To Love A Highlander (Highland Warriors Book 1) Page 15
The strength of his arm and the heat of his body against hers had her recalling last night and how he had trapped her against the door with his body. The spark of passion that had flared in her then, flared to life once again. She warned herself to look away, but her eyes betrayed her and hurried to his eyes to see… passion there as well.
“I am curious. Is it that you have been too long without a man that you look at me with such hunger?”
Unlike her father who ignored the never-ending barbs to his character and beliefs, she was growing tired and angry at the endless insults and falsehoods she had been accused of.
Espy kept her voice to a whisper. “Did you ever think that I look at you that way because I have never been with a man and I wonder what it would be like to be intimately touched, for the first time, by you?”
Craven hooked his arm tighter around her waist as he lowered his mouth near hers to murmur, “Be careful, I just may settle your wonder and my curiosity.”
“Espy!” her grandmother called out.
Craven quickly dismounted and with a strong tug had Espy off the horse shortly after him.
Espy ran to her grandmother’s outstretched arms and when they closed around her, she almost burst into tears. They held on to each other, hugging as if they feared someone would tear them apart.
Finally, her teary-eyed grandmother spoke, though not to Espy. “I am grateful you have returned my granddaughter to me, Lord Craven.”
“Only for a visit,” Craven said.
“I am still grateful, for I have sorely missed her.”
“Two of my warriors will remain here while my other warriors and I hunt,” Craven said and mounted his horse and looked to Espy. “Be prepared to leave when I return.”
She nodded and watched him ride off, feeling a strange tug at her heart, which she told herself to wisely ignore. She had seen how women suffered for making unwise choices when it came to men and love, and she did not want to be counted among them.
Upon entering the cottage and seeing it empty, Espy asked, “Where is the woman you were tending?”
“She is well and has returned home only yesterday,” her grandmother said and pointed at the table. “Sit and I will fix a brew and you can tell me why you look at Lord Craven with such longing.”
Chapter 16
Espy could never keep anything from her grandmother. She only hoped no one else saw what was so obvious to the observant old woman.
“I see the same in his eyes,” her grandmother said as she busily prepared a hot brew.
Espy’s head went up a notch upon hearing that.
Her grandmother laughed softly. “It is always good to hear someone say what you have seen for yourself, but are not quite sure if you are seeing it correctly. Let me assure you that you have seen it as clearly as I have.”
Espy went to speak, to let her grandmother know that nothing would ever come of her and Craven, but the old woman provided some wise words.
“Let it be, Espy. Let it find its way on its own.” Her grandmother patted her hand. “Now tell me all that has happened since last I saw you.”
Before she could share, curiosity had Espy asking, “What ailment had the woman, who kept you from visiting with me?”
“Actually, it was rather odd. She believed herself quite ill and complained of pain, but the more I tended her the more I believed there was nothing wrong with her. Then she suddenly proclaimed herself well and took her leave.”
Espy was reminded of Ober and his similar complaints. She tucked the thought away to discuss later with Craven. Now all she wanted was to talk with her grandmother and gather her few personal items to take to the keep with her.
Grandmother and granddaughter talked and talked and talked until a comfortable silence finally settled between them as they finished their brew.
“I have missed you so much,” Cyra said, reaching out to place her hand over Espy’s and give it a firm squeeze.
“And I you, Seanmhair,” Espy said, her heart already aching that she would be leaving her grandmother again, then a thought came to her. “I have been given a cottage where I tend the ill. You should come stay there until this is settled. Then we can return home together.”
“I am pleased to know that Craven allows you to provide healing to his clan just as I provide healing to the surrounding area. Besides, home is where your heart is and my heart claimed this place before your mum was born. I cannot leave it.”
“I understand,” Espy said. “When all is done, I will return home.”
“To where your heart is,” Cyra reminded. “We should gather your few things so that you may take them with you.”
It was when Espy held her father’s journal filled with knowledge that she shared her intentions with her grandmother. “I am going to go through every page that Da painstakingly recorded in hopes of identifying all the leaves in the pouch of deadly herbs that had been given to Aubrey and see what it may reveal.”
“That was horrible of someone to do.” Cyra shook her head. “Greed, jealousy, revenge are just a few of the things that can cause people to do harm to others.” She shivered as if a sudden chill had taken hold of her. “Then there is pure evil, which causes harm without provocation or consideration.”
“I find it difficult to believe someone would want to harm Aubrey. She was a lovely, sweet woman and liked by all.”
“Perhaps it was not Aubrey they wanted to hurt,” Cyra suggested. “There is good reason Craven is referred to as the beast. He slaughtered many in battle, perhaps someone wants revenge.”
“I will find out the truth,” Espy declared as if it was already done.
“You always were a determined one, but you must be careful,” Cyra cautioned. “If you pose a threat to someone who seeks revenge against Craven, you could be harmed.”
Sound of approaching horses caught their attention and the two women hurried and hugged each other.
“I will be taking Trumble with me,” Espy said, swinging her cloak over her shoulders.
“Is that wise?” Cyra asked. “Many will think him a kelpie and may try to harm him. He is safe here tucked away from everyone.”
“He cannot stay locked away. It is not fair to him and it is what his previous owner did to him. I will not see him become a prisoner once again. I will watch over him just as he has watched over me.”
“You and Trumble are perfectly matched. You are both strong-willed,” Cyra said with a gentle laugh.
Espy stepped out of the cottage, a wrapped bundle in hand to see one of Craven’s warriors headed to where Trumble was lodged. She hurried over to Craven. “He does not go for my horse, does he?”
“He does,” Craven confirmed. “He will bring—”
Espy did not wait for Craven to finish speaking, she took off after the warrior. The loud sounds and beating of hooves on the ground warned Espy she was too late, Trumble was warning the warrior to stay away and if he did not pay heed, Trumble would do him harm.
Trumble’s legs were raised and looked ready to come down on the warrior who had tumbled to the ground when Espy entered the small barn.
“Trumble! It is all right. You are safe,” she called out and the horse snorted and moved back as he brought his hooves down away from the warrior. She took a step toward Trumble when a powerful hand gripped her arm, stopping her.
“Stay away from the beast,” Craven ordered.
“He is not a beast. He is my friend and I will not let you hurt him,” Espy challenged.
Craven’s commanding tone and that he had grabbed Espy did not sit well with Trumble and he pawed the ground, snorted, and paced in agitation.
If Espy did not let Trumble know she was all right, there could be a serious problem. “I am fine, Trumble. No one wishes me harm.” She raised her free arm, swinging the bundle in her hand for him to see. “You are coming with me, my friend.”
He stopped pacing and acknowledged her with several nods.
“Let me go. He thinks you mean me ha
rm. He will not hurt me,” she whispered softly to Craven, though never took her eyes off Trumble.
Craven was not sure about that, but he recalled how she had spoken with affection about her horse on their ride here and so he trusted that she knew what she was doing. He let her go.
Espy walked at an even pace to Trumble, so that he would see that there was no reason to think they needed to hurry and escape as she and the horse had done on other occasions. She reached up and he brought his face down to her hand. She rubbed him gently, then placed her face against his and whispered softly to him.
Craven grew annoyed watching her and his annoyance mounted as she lingered and lovingly rubbed the stallion’s long, slender neck.
“We need to be on our way,” he snapped.
The horse raised his head, nodding, and gave a snort as if he agreed with Craven.
“I would ask if you could manage to ready the horse, but I see that you can. Hurry and be done with it. I received word that the physician will arrive soon at the keep and I wish to be there,” Craven said and took his leave.
“As do I,” Espy said to Trumble. “It has been too long since we raced across the land. Today we fly like the wind.”
Espy took hold of Trumble’s reins and escorted him out of the barn to see one of Craven’s warriors presenting her grandmother with a rabbit ready to put on a spit. That Craven had shared the hunt with her grandmother warmed her heart.
Craven watched as the large horse looked around and tugged Espy toward a large rock. She climbed up on it and mounted the stallion with ease. She and the horse certainly seemed compatible and why that should annoy him frustrated him even more.
His frustration turned to concern when it seemed that the horse appeared anxious and he feared the large animal would take off, leaving Espy unable to control him. She also appeared anxious and he would be concerned that she was planning to flee if he was not confident that that was not her intention. He no soon as approached Espy then the large horse took off. Instinct, born from years of riding into battle, had him following after her and it was a good thing he did. His horse struggled to catch up with her. Never had he seen such speed in a horse and never had he seen a woman ride a horse with such confidence. Bent low, it appeared as if Espy was whispering encouragement to the stallion. The pair were quite a sight, though it did not sit well with Craven that his horse could not match the stallion’s speed. His mare was fast, often leaving his warriors to follow in his wake as they did now.
His stomach began to twist in a knot and as she grew smaller in the distance the tighter the knot got. She was much too far from him. If something happened, he could not get to her fast enough.
Helpless.
He would be helpless to save her, keep her from harm.
A bend in the path was coming up and she soon would be out of sight. His heart pounded against his chest like the force of the mighty sticks that pounded unmercifully on the battle drums when warfare was imminent. He would never let her ride that beast of a horse again.
He thought his heart would burst from his chest when she suddenly disappeared from sight and when he finally reached the bend, his anger erupted and he spewed several oaths. She was even further away from him than before. Her horse was flying across the land and there appeared to be no stopping him.
Craven was never so relieved to see the village and keep come into sight and to see Espy slow the horse down and enter the village in an easy trot.
Espy’s heart raced madly, her cheeks stung from the wind that had whipped at her face, and she could not, nor did she want to, keep a broad smile from surfacing. It had been far too long since she and Trumble got to ride without caution or care, and she was so pleased that they finally had been able to do so.
She paid no mind to the stares and mouths that dropped opened as she rode through the village. Trumble often caused a stir, though he held his head erect proudly, almost daring anyone to say something.
Espy rode Trumble straight to the barn and the young lad Leith, who mostly tended Craven’s horse was there. He backed away, stumbling over his own feet as he did, while keeping wide eyes on Trumble.
One thing Espy was sure of was that Trumble favored children. He calmed around them and behaved well.
“Trumble will not hurt you, Leith,” she said after dismounting. “He will be your friend if you let him.”
“Truly?” Leith asked, taking a cautious and curious step forward.
“He lets only those he likes touch him,” she said and patted Trumble’s neck. “Trumble this is Leith and he is going to look after you. He is a friend.”
The lad bravely stepped forward and stretched his hand out and Trumble nodded his head as if to give the lad permission to touch him, and Leith smiled.
Craven watched from a distance and could not believe when Leith took the reins from Espy and led the horse into the barn without incident.
His warriors came up behind him and stopped and when Craven directed his horse forward, his warriors followed.
Craven was off his horse and in front of Espy so suddenly that Espy almost stumbled back if it were not for his hand taking hold of her arm and steadying her. Keeping his hold firm on her, he hurried her away from the barn.
“Never do that again,” he ordered sternly.
Her eyes narrowed in question. “Do what?”
“Ride a distance from me,” he said and tugged her along, forcing her to walk faster.
“It was not intentional.” She tried to explain while taking two steps to his one stride to keep up with him.
“So your horse was in command, not you,” he accused.
“I am always in command when I ride,” she assured him proud of the riding skills she had acquired, though more out of necessity than want.
He stopped so abruptly that she nearly fell against him and once again his powerful grip steadied her.
“Shall we test that assumption?” he challenged.
One look at the passion swirling, like a storm about to break, in his eyes and it was obvious it was not the horse he was talking about her riding.
He lowered his head until their brows almost touched. “I am in command—always—and you will obey me.”
“Is it obedience you want or surrender to your command?” she dared to whisper to him.
His lips nearly settled on hers when he said, “Both!”
Espy was glad when he released her.
“Go. I will let you know when the physician arrives, for I have questions for you both.” Craven watched her take eager steps away from him. A wise choice, since if she had stayed… he chased the troubling thought away. He still could not fathom what made him want Espy so much. A single word, an innocent look, a simple touch from her… any or all aroused him.
He shook his head and continued up the steps to the keep. He called out for a drink upon entering the Great Hall and downed a tankard of ale as soon as one was placed in front of him. Watching Espy today and the strength it took to ride the stallion with such skill had fired his desire for her, but then his desire had been growing steadily for her and trying to deny it was useless. But what to do about it was another question, a question that continued to haunt him.
“You need a good poke.”
Craven raised his head and brow at Dylan.
Dylan threw his leg over the bench and joined Craven at the table. “Though you never were one for picking up a stray woman. You were always particular with the women you took to your bed.” He shook his head. “I could never understand why you denied some of the women who made it clear they wanted you to poke them.”
“My father once told me that a good poke would satisfy a man for a while, but to couple with a woman you loved was beyond satisfying. I realized the truth of his words when I wed Aubrey.”
Dylan filled a tankard for himself. “I may have disagreed with you if I had not wed Britt. It does make a difference when you lose your heart to a woman.”
“Not for all men,” Craven said.
Craven shook his head. “No and I do not want to hear anything from him.”
“What of the other one?”
“He keeps himself locked away in that decrepit castle, the nearby villagers far too fearful to go anywhere near it.”
“How does he survive?”
“You are talking about Slain. He always survives.”
Quiet settled over them again while they each downed what was left in their tankards, then Dylan filled them once again.
“I never saw such fierce and mighty fighters like you, Slain, and—” Dylan stopped as if he feared saying the name. “Is it true he killed an entire camp of warriors by himself?”
Craven turned his head away, memories better left forgotten stirring in his mind. “Every last one of them.”
“No wonder people call him a demon.”
Craven looked once again to Dylan. “Endless battles and loss can steal the heart and soul out of a once good man. I was lucky. I found Aubrey just at the right time.”
“I did not fight as many fierce battles as you and your two friends, but the ones that I did, linger forever in my mind.” He raised his tankard. “To the brave ones who did not return home.”
Craven raised his tankard and thought about the two men who were once as close as brothers to him. He wished there was something he could do to help Slain and as far as the other one—Warrick—there was no help for him.
A warrior entered the hall and approached Craven. “The physician has arrived, my lord.”
Chapter 17
Edward MacPeters downed his wine with trembling hands as he sat fidgeting nervously on the edge of the chair in Craven’s solar. “I do not know how I can help you, Lord Craven. I did all I could at the time. It is that barbaric healer who is responsible and should be punished.”
Seeing the frail looking man now, Craven wondered how he had ever had such confidence in him. His beady eyes and sharp-hooked nose reminded him more of a bird of prey rather than a man who was supposed to heal.