The Highlander's Forbidden Bride Read online

  But she had…and it had changed everything.

  Ronan stirred, and she pulled her hand away, not wanting to be caught touching him. He moved slowly at first, then, as if realizing where he was, his head shot up and his wide eyes went straight to hers.

  “Good morning,” she said with a croak to her dry throat.

  He sat up, and the weight lifted off her, though to her way of thinking she had lost a shield of protection.

  His hand went to rest at her brow, then on her cheek and with a smile he proclaimed, “The fever is gone.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  He shook his head. “No, thanks to Bethane.”

  “That’s right. We’re not in the cottage anymore,” she said with a sadness that overwhelmed her. She would no longer be alone with him, no longer share a bed.

  Silence settled over them as if neither knew what to say. Bethane broke the awkward moment when she entered the room.

  Ronan hastily stood and stepped away from Carissa as if embarrassed that he had been caught in such an intimate pose with her.

  Carissa felt rejected, and her sharp tongue took over. “No need for you to care for me anymore. Bethane will tend me.”

  “Fine,” Ronan snapped, annoyed, and stormed out the door.

  Bethane smiled. “He cared for and worried over you.”

  Carissa struggled to sit up. “He did?”

  Bethane nodded, helping her up. “And you cried out for him.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, and he was there for you, refusing to leave your side. And I cannot believe that he walked all day pulling you on that makeshift sleigh to get you here.”

  “I remember him putting me on the sleigh, but I recall nothing after that,” she admitted, to her chagrin.

  Bethane sat on the bed beside her and rested a comforting hand on her arm. “He left here wanting you dead and returned wanting you to live.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked anxiously.

  “I asked him, and he told me that he wanted you to live. What happened while you both were gone?”

  Carissa thought a moment, then whispered, “Everything.”

  It wasn’t until that evening that Ronan returned to Carissa and only out of necessity. Bethane was called to a cottage to deliver a babe and she asked him to see that Carissa got supper.

  She was sitting up in bed when he walked in with a covered tray.

  “I’ve brought you supper,” he said a bit abruptly.

  “Thank you, I’m starving.” She pushed the blankets off and swung her legs off the bed.

  “What are you doing?” he scolded, placing the tray on the table and hurrying over to her.

  “I want to eat at the table. I’m tired of being in bed.”

  “You’re not strong enough yet.”

  “I am so,” she said, and stubbornly stood. Her legs trembled as she took a step, her eyes turned wide, and her face turned pale as she began to collapse.

  Ronan had her in his arms in no time, and she had her arms around his neck just as quickly. Their faces were so close they almost touched and Ronan instinctively rested his cheek on hers.

  Her flesh was cool and soft, and he shut his eyes and thought how it felt with Hope. And for a moment he allowed himself to believe that he held the woman he loved.

  Finally, he moved his head away, but as he did, his lips lightly brushed over hers. The intimate contact shocked them both, and they turned their faces away.

  He returned her to bed.

  “I prefer to sit—”

  “You stay in the bed until you gain back your strength,” he finished.

  She opened her mouth to disagree.

  “Don’t bother to argue,” he informed her, tucking the blanket around her. “You’ll stay put for at least tonight.”

  He put the wood tray on her lap and slipped off the cloth that covered it and placed it across her chest.

  She smiled and happily dug into the soup, which was thick with meat and vegetables.

  He pulled a chair close to the bed and straddled it, resting his arms along the top. He wanted to talk with her, but didn’t wish to interrupt the meal she was obviously enjoying. He intended to wait until she finished, but she had a different idea.

  “Ask me what you want?” she said between spoonfuls.

  “What defense do you propose to present to my brother?”

  “The truth.”

  “Define the truth.”

  “I harmed no one,” she said.

  “That could be debated.”

  “But it cannot be denied, and as you told me, your brother is a fair man.”

  “You expect to be freed?” he asked.

  “I expect the truth to set me free.”

  He stood, pushing the chair aside. “Then speak the truth about Hope.”

  “She once lived, but does no more. That is all there is to Hope.”

  “Why did you conceive her?”

  “The same reason why I let her go…necessity,” she said. “Just as you should have let her go.”

  She held out the tray to him, the soup only half-finished.

  “You should eat more,” he said.

  “I’m no longer hungry.”

  He took the tray and set it on the table.

  “Do you think we could ever be friends?”

  Her question shocked him as did his answer. “You are an enemy of the Sinclares.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  Odd, since he understood nothing. He was more confused than ever, and she had been the one to confuse him.

  She slipped down under the covers. “I’m tired. I wish to sleep.”

  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he offered, though the truth was he didn’t want to leave her.

  Carissa’s curt tongue surfaced. “I prefer to be alone.”

  He walked over to her. “Alone can be a lonely place.”

  “It is the only safe place when there is no one to trust,” she said, and turned her back to him as she slipped farther beneath the blanket.

  Ronan was glad for Bethane’s company several hours later. He had been alone with his thoughts much too long, and nothing, absolutely nothing, made sense to him.

  “Everyone rests peacefully,” Bethane said upon entering the cottage.

  Not quite everyone, he thought, but said nothing.

  “Now it is my turn,” she said.

  He rose from the rocker, offering it to her.

  “Stay,” she said, “at least until I prepare a hot cider for myself. Would you like one?”

  He nodded, thought to return to the rocker, but didn’t, though it caught his attention. It was similar to the rocking chair in the cottage, almost identical. He turned to glance at Bethane.

  “You have a question?” she asked, handing him a tankard before she took hers and sat in the rocker.

  He had a thought, but dare he express it?

  “So is it my eyesight or wisdom?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me know.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then he recalled their talk. Before he went chasing after Carissa, he had asked Bethane why she helped them both.

  “It isn’t your eyesight,” he said, “though I may question it being wisdom.”

  “Wisdom is not easy to accept simply because it reveals the truth. Is the truth too difficult for you to accept?”

  He shook his head. “When I find out the truth, I’ll let you know.”

  “Don’t forget to open your heart along with your eyes,” she warned. “Now, I must get some sleep. I’m exhausted. Would you mind sleeping in the healing cottage? Carissa needs tending until her strength returns.”

  Ronan downed the last of the cider and placed the tankard on the table as he passed it on the way to the door. He turned around. “There is no need to offer Carissa sanctuary, she is willingly returning home with me.”

  “I thought as much.”

  Puzzled, he asked, “Why?”

  “Carissa is f
ar too skilled ever to be captured. If she wanted to be free of you, she would be.”

  Chapter 20

  Bethane’s words haunted Ronan for the next couple of days. And was one of the reasons he didn’t mind remaining at the village Black for a while. It gave him more time to do as Bethane suggested and open his eyes, though his heart was a different matter. However, he did wish to see Carissa as clearly as possible.

  Another reason they would not take their leave was that he wanted Carissa fully healed and feeling strong once again before they embarked on the journey to his home.

  In the meantime, with Carissa improving, there was no reason for her to remain in the healing cottage, and Bethane suggested she occupy her granddaughter Zia’s cottage for the duration. And Ronan could make use of the small nook with a single bed that was part of the sleeping quarters but separated by a curtain.

  Neither objected, and he wondered if she felt as he did. He could find any number of reasons to remain near her, but the simple truth was he did not want to be separated from her just yet.

  Everything had changed, and he had to define that change if he was ever going to find peace when it came to Hope.

  He walked toward the cottage, snow crunching beneath his boots, an icy wind stinging his face and his arms wrapped around a covered basket. He struggled to open the door when he reached it and finally managed to get it open, though the wind whipped it out of his hand.

  He was giving it a forceful shove closed with his shoulder when Carissa stepped forward to help him. He shook his head. “It’s too cold near the door.”

  She remained where she was in front of the hearth.

  “What do you have in the basket?” she asked.

  “All of what you need to make apple buns.” He smiled and yanked the cloth off the top.

  Her joyous smile stunned him. She looked as happy as a young lass who had just received the most wonderful gift. However, he was more stunned when she rushed around the table, threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

  His arm instinctively circled her waist, and he held her against him for a moment until they realized the awkwardness of the situation. But instead of pulling away, he moved his mouth to hers.

  He needed to taste her, fully taste her, and see for himself if there was any remnant of Hope. And she didn’t deny him. She closed her eyes and waited.

  He did the same, wanting no distractions just the taste of her. When he pressed his lips to hers it was as familiar as returning home. The thought startled him, and he abruptly stepped away from her.

  She stumbled back and quickly braced her hand against the table, while her other hand grabbed at her stomach.

  “Are you all right?” Ronan asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered.

  The woman who answered him was far from the brashly confident Carissa. Her voice trembled with an uncertainty that left her vulnerable. There wasn’t a time he could recall when Carissa was ever defenseless. If she had no weapon, her tongue served as a good replacement. Even when he had surprised her at the cottage, she didn’t appear helpless. She had challenged him at every turn. And that’s what made it so difficult to believe that a kindhearted soul could actually reside in Carissa.

  It could all be a ruse for her to obtain her freedom.

  She seemed to gain control and immediately got busy emptying the basket and preparing to bake. Like him, he assumed she didn’t want to discuss the kiss that had tasted all too familiar.

  “The apple buns are my favorite,” he said, sitting at the table, hoping to dig through the lies to discover the truth.

  “Mine too.”

  He suddenly realized that her smile was different. It was bright as if she was truly happy, rather than her usual wicked grin. Or was it because he was seeing her with open eyes?

  He watched her hands move skillfully and expertly, and it made him wonder how she had learned to cook so well. It was only one of many questions he intended to ask of her.

  “How did you acquire your cooking skills?”

  She hesitated to answer.

  “I would truly like to know,” he said with a smile, reaching across the table to grab a piece of dried apple.

  She stared at him for a moment, and he felt his heart catch; he couldn’t believe that he saw deep sorrow in her eyes. He didn’t believe Carissa would ever feel the slightest sorrow. She had no heart, but Hope did.

  He attempted to encourage an answer out of her. “I’m grateful to whoever taught you, for I’ve enjoyed every meal you have cooked.”

  Her smile brightened along with her eyes. “Ula taught me.”

  “Is Ula your mother?”

  “No, my mother died when I was young. Ula was a slave.”

  “Was a slave?”

  Carissa nodded. “She escaped.”

  “How?” he asked, curious, since Mordrac’s stronghold wasn’t a place from which to escape easily.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Was Ula an old woman?”

  “She spoke of her grandchildren to me. She loved them dearly and missed them terribly.”

  “It’s amazing that an old woman could do what few if any have done. Escape your father’s stronghold.”

  “Your brother did it,” she reminded.

  “And I’ve often wondered how.”

  “He is a resourceful and determined man.”

  “Was Ula the same?” he asked.

  She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “I think what made it easy for both Ula and Cavan to escape was love.”

  “Love?” he repeated, not certain he heard her right.

  “Yes, love,” she confirmed. “Ula’s and Cavan’s love for their families gave them the courage they needed to escape. It was the driving force that encouraged them never to give up.”

  And it was what propelled him to find Hope.

  “I suppose love is more powerful than most imagine,” he said. “Love endures where nothing else can.”

  “My father would have disagreed. He believed hate endured, and love never lasted.”

  “Then he never knew love.”

  “I often wondered the same myself,” she said. “He hated so much that he never allowed room in his heart for anything else.”

  Not even the love of a young daughter.

  The thought shocked but also tormented him. How could a bonny lass be raised on hatred rather than love?

  She placed the buns in the hearth to bake and turned to Ronan with a smile. “I think I should make us a flavorful stew for supper.”

  “I’d like that,” he said, and stood. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it from Bethane.”

  “We should ask Bethane to join us,” Carissa suggested. “She has been good to us.”

  While Ronan would have preferred to be alone with Carissa, he knew she was right. Bethane had been very good to them. She had given them time together, to discover and learn more than he ever imagined.

  “I’ll invite her,” he said.

  “Good,” she said with an excited clasp of her hands. “I will bake fresh bread to go with the stew.”

  He walked over to her and took her hand. “Tell me what you need.”

  She stared at him for a moment, and he could see that she struggled to reply. And he knew that she wasn’t thinking of her need in terms of baking, and neither was he.

  The kiss was unexpected though desired by both. This time it lingered, as if sampling and finally realizing the taste was exactly what both favored, they drank deeply.

  Their lips were the only part of them that touched as though if they went any further, neither of them could prevent what would happen.

  It was a kiss that stirred their souls, and when it ended, their brows rested against each other’s and both took deep breaths, though neither spoke.

  When they finally broke apart, Ronan asked, “What do you need?”

  Carissa answered before she thought, “You.”

  Carissa, her legs unsteady,
plopped down on the chair at the table after the door closed behind Ronan. He hadn’t replied to her response. He had simply walked out the door.

  Something had changed between them, or had it changed in her? Had the fever robbed Carissa of her last bit of strength or had it helped Hope emerge? She didn’t know, although she knew that she didn’t want to live as Carissa any longer.

  It wasn’t who she was, and she didn’t want to pretend anymore. She was so very tired of being who she wasn’t. And with a taste of what she could have, it made her all the more eager to want it.

  Fool. It can never be.

  Not true, she could hope. Hadn’t he kissed her? And there was no denying that they both enjoyed it. But then they had always enjoyed it, from the very first. Her skin continued to tingle from their recent kiss, just as it always had.

  She still wondered how it was that they had so easily and quickly fallen in love and how it had seemed to endure even through separation and supposed death. Ronan hadn’t stopped loving Hope even though he had believed her dead. It seemed that he loved her even more.

  And she hadn’t stopped loving him. She had no idea where their love had been born, but somehow it had been given life, and she so badly wanted to see it continue to live and grow strong.

  She got a sudden chill, and she realized that the tingle from Ronan’s kiss had dissipated, and she missed it. She missed him, and she wondered how she would ever live life without him.

  Hope.

  There truly was none for her, but there was Hope herself. If she could find the courage to let Hope live. But then, for that to happen, Carissa had to die. They both could not survive together. Only one could stay, the other had to go. And though she might be tired of Carissa, it was due to her strength and courage that she had survived. How then did she deny her?

  She remained by the fire until Ronan returned, then she got busy preparing the stew while he once again joined her at the table.

  “Bethane will be happy to join us,” he said with a grin. “I boasted about your cooking.”

  “I’m not that good a cook.”

  “No, you are a great cook. I’ve never tasted such flavorful food.”