Entrusted to a Highlander Read online

  “What’s wrong, Purity?” he asked. “Have I hurt you?”

  Her head snapped up, not realizing it had drooped in sorrow. If he only knew what he had made her feel, but why would he care? He had never cared for her and he never would.

  She offered an easy enough excuse. “The day has worn on me.”

  He nodded and asked, “Would you truly have sent me away with no news of Raven?”

  “I have no news of her to share with you,” she said, which was a partial truth. “I will gladly share what I know, but it will be of no help to you.”

  “Tell me anyway,” he said as he finished cleansing the wound.

  Purity went back to the day of the attack on the Clan MacKinnon, the day that Arran’s brother Royden and Oria were to wed. A day that had changed all their lives forever.

  “Raven and I had gone to the woods before the wedding ceremony was to start. I was upset because my da was sending me to the convent, to protect me or so he said. We heard the screams.” They still echoed in her head to this day. “Raven was ready to jump in and help, not so me. I was so afraid that I couldn’t move. Raven told me to stay where I was and keep safe and off she went. But after a short while, I realized I had to help. I came across Raven trying to drag your da away from the battle. He was wounded badly and I thought for sure he’d die. We dragged him into the woods. She ordered me to stay with him and she went and got the women and bairns who had made it inside the keep to follow her into the woods. She insisted that we all leave and get your da to the witch so she could save him.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think the witch could save him, but she did. Raven told me if she could join us she would, but we were not to wait for her or look for her. I didn’t see her again until about a year later and only for a short time. She told me she couldn’t stay that people were still searching for her, wanting to force her to marry a man who would then become Chieftain of the Clan MacKinnon and possess all the clan’s land and holdings. She couldn’t chance staying in one place or jeopardizing the safety of others with her presence. She also warned me that if I was found, I could be forced to wed a stranger as well and the Clan Macara would then be claimed by him. She told me she would be in touch when she could.”

  Purity offered no more, fearing she might say too much and she had given her word to Raven and intended to keep it.

  “When last did you hear from her?” he asked.

  “Only one time and not recently,” she said truthfully, since after that one time she hadn’t heard directly from Raven. It had been through messages.

  “I promised to keep her safe. I won’t rest until I keep my word,” Arran said, wrapping a clean cloth around Purity’s arm and ripping it to knot and keep it in place.

  “Your da has returned home,” Purity said, feeling it best not to speak any more about Raven.

  “I know, Royden sent me a message. The witch returned with him.”

  Purity looked to the cottage as she nodded. “This is Wren’s cottage. She offered it to me when she went home with your da. They fell in love.”

  “So Royden’s message stated,” he said as if the news meant nothing to him.

  His fingers had slipped down along her arm to rest just above her wrist, squeezing the flesh lightly. She didn’t think he even knew he did it and she hoped he wouldn’t stop. She wanted to linger in his touch that felt more intimate to her than he would ever know.

  To keep him talking, she asked, “What happened with you after you were captured?”

  “You don’t need to know,” he said and the finality of his words made it clear he would say no more about it.

  “Tell me one thing,” she said, and before he could deny her, she asked, “Why is your hair cropped?”

  “It got in the way of battle.”

  His hand fell away from her arm and the strangest sensation took hold of her. She felt as if she’d lost a limb, like a part of her had suddenly gone missing.

  He stood. “I need to settle my horse so she knows we will be staying here.”

  He caught her unaware, her eyes widening in surprise. “You’re staying? For how long?”

  “A day or two, enough time for you to gather your belongings.”

  “My belongings?” she asked.

  “Aye, you’re returning home with me,” he said and turned to walk away.

  Purity scrambled to her feet. “I most certainly am not going home with you. This is my home and this is where I will stay.”

  Arran turned and the intensity of his scowl had Purity taking a step back.

  “You will be going home with me,” he said as if it had already been decided and turned away from her once again.

  “No, I won’t,” she argued, the thought of losing her freedom to frightening to imagine.

  He turned again. “I would think Raven spent more time with you than you tell me since you’ve become as stubborn and foolish as she.”

  “I prefer stubborn and foolish, to the weak, shy, malleable woman I once was. I would have never survived the attack or what followed otherwise.”

  “I suppose that is true, but you need not worry any longer. I will see you kept safe,” he said once again as if it had already been decided and he walked off, letting her know he’d hear no more about it.

  Purity opened her mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. It would do no good to continue to argue with him. This was her home now and this was where she would stay. He had no say over her. No one did, at least here in the woods. If she returned home, it would be to live under her father’s dictate and she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.

  She would talk with Arran later and make him see reason, if that was at all possible. Before she walked away, she called out to Arran. “The lean-to will provide shelter for your mare from the rain the approaching dark clouds bring.”

  Arran had noticed the gathering dark clouds himself and walked the mare over to the lean-to and stowed the saddle and blanket back far enough so that the rain wouldn’t reach it.

  “You’ll do fine here, Hope. We’ll have a rest for a day or two, then be on our way home. I’ll build you a fine shelter where no rain or snow will touch you.”

  The horse snorted and Arran stroked her neck reassuringly. “Purity is a good woman. She loves animals and will be kind to you.”

  He grew quiet thinking on the moment he had realized who she was. It had surprised—more so shocked—him as did the sudden feeling of contentment, relief, and a sense of finding something that had been lost to him that had taken hold of him. It had wrapped around him like a comforting, familiar hug and he had almost taken her in his arms, the urge to hold her tight against him overwhelming.

  He had never been attracted to Purity, not because of her deformed hand, that never bothered him. It was his taste in women back then that kept him enjoying the women willing to couple for the fun of it. Marriage hadn’t been on his mind and it wasn’t now. He wasn’t fit to marry then and he was less than fit to marry now. While his need for a woman hadn’t abated, the fun he once had with women was now lost to him.

  The mercenaries had supplied an endless array of women to their warriors to satisfy their needs. He had taken full advantage of it. It had helped him cope with being held captive. When he’d been with one of those women, it had been like being back in the barn with Flora, a woman he had regularly enjoyed a good poke, some talk, and laughter with. He’d been a favorite among the women in the mercenary camp, many fighting over him and he did his best to please them all until…

  Arran shook his head, not wanting the memory to surface.

  A sudden bark from the large dog had Arran reaching for his sword he had rested against one of the posts. He quickly searched the area for Purity and saw her look to where Princess was headed, no longer barking, her tail wagging. He left his sword where it was along with his axe, confident that the concealed weapons he carried on him would suffice if necessary. Then there were always his hands. He had learned how lethal hands could actually be.

  He wa
tched Purity’s face break into a wide smile and she rushed to greet the man who stepped past the bushes, a horse following behind him. He was tall and thin with sharp angles to his face, and eyes that brightened when they caught on Purity. His brown hair reached his shoulders and there wasn’t a trace of gray to it. He was young, Purity’s age or a few years older.

  Arran’s hand went instinctively to his waist where a dagger lay in its sheath and a rumble of annoyance issued in his chest. Purity had told him there was no man she relied on, but the way they smiled at each other made Arran wonder. And Princess seemed to regard him as a friend, wagging her tail as she danced around him. Even the cat had come out to greet him, meaning the animals knew him well and liked him. That would also mean he’d been here often.

  He walked toward them, eager to find out who he was and what he was doing here.

  The man’s smile vanished when Arran drew near.

  Purity turned knowing full well what robbed George of his smile. “Arran, come meet George. He is the merchant who brings me the fine wine.” She turned to George again. “George, this is Arran of the Clan MacKinnon.”

  George’s smile returned though it wasn’t the brilliant smile he had turned on Purity.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” George said with a nod.

  “That is fine wine you bring Purity. How did you come by it?” Arran asked, stopping so close to her that their arms touched.

  “I bartered with another merchant for it. I don’t know how he came by it,” George said, his light brown eyes darting nervously about.

  The man obviously lied and he wondered why.

  “You will stay the night?” Purity asked, stepping closer to George.

  What was the matter with her? Hadn’t he warned her about inviting men to rest here? Or had she become like the willing women he had known, enjoying a good poke now and again with a man of her choice? Somehow he couldn’t rationalize that with the shy, quiet Purity he had once known.

  “That is generous of you, Purity, but I must be on my way today. I must make it to Stitchill Monastery before day’s end. I have items that are much needed.”

  “Then don’t let us keep you,” Arran said.

  Princess barked again and it was followed by a loud meow and Arran was quick to glance around while George and Purity smiled as they looked down at the dog and cat.

  “You want your treat?” George asked with a smile and Princess wagged her tail while King wound himself around George’s legs.

  George plied the animals with treats. No wonder they had hurried over to him and that made Arran wonder even more about the man.

  The animals took their treat off to enjoy and George pulled something from one of the two sacks that hung on either side of the horse.

  “A gift for you, Purity,” he said, shaking the material loose to reveal a hooded, dark wool cloak. “Yours is far too threadbare to keep you warm this winter. And with the way the animals are foraging and storing already, I’d say this winter is not going to be an easy one.”

  Purity’s face lit bright and Arran was amazed by what a happy smile did to her features. She was far prettier than he had ever imagined. Again, it was difficult to reconcile the shy lass he once knew to this lovely woman. Or had he simply never bothered to truly look at Purity?

  Purity took it from him. “How generous of you, George. It’s lovely and I’m grateful.” She slipped the cloak over her shoulders and hugged it to her tight. “The winter in the woods will surely be more bearable with this fine cloak.”

  A blush ran up to stain George’s cheeks and he quickly turned away to fetch something off the horse.

  Purity might think she’d be spending the winter here in the woods, but Arran knew better. She was going home whether she liked it or not.

  George turned around, the blush almost faded, and held a skein of wine out to her that Arran quickly snatched out of his hands.

  Purity turned an annoyed look on Arran.

  “I must go,” George said hastily.

  “We haven’t talked in some time. I’ll walk with you a short way,” Purity said.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Arran ordered and took hold of her arm.

  Purity thought a shackle had locked around her arm, he held her so tightly. With a sharp snap of her head, she looked him in the eyes and demanded, “Let go of me now!”

  Arran turned his attention to George. “She was attacked by three men earlier. She was wounded and it could have been far worse if I hadn’t arrived when I did.”

  “Good, Lord, Purity!” George said. “It is good Arran was here to rescue you and keep you safe. He is right. Do not be foolish. You must stay here with him.”

  “You should be careful yourself. Travel on one’s own can be a challenge,” Arran cautioned.

  “I am well aware and do my best to keep safe, but I am grateful for the advice. Now it’s best I be off since a room waits for me at the monastery and there are those looking forward to seeing me.”

  “You’ll return soon?” Purity asked anxiously.

  “I have delayed telling you since it troubles me to say that I won’t be returning,” George said. “I will join my sister’s clan and help her see it thrive.”

  “I am happy for you. Stay well and safe,” Purity said.

  George looked from Purity, then to Arran, and back again to her. “Things are changing in these parts. You should let him keep you safe, Purity.”

  George disappeared into the woods and Purity felt tears sting her eyes. She had been waiting for the message he had delivered and now that it had come, she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Do you have feelings for this man that you grow upset over his permanent departure?” Arran asked, seeing her eyes grow moist as he released her arm.

  “He was no more than a friend, someone to talk with, and that I will miss.”

  “You will have many friends when you return home with me,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Don’t you understand that I cannot go home? My father will force me to wed a stranger or one responsible for the attack on your clan will send one of his warriors to claim me and the Clan Macara. It is not safe for me to return home.”

  “You’re with me now. I will keep you safe.”

  Again he spoke as if it was done and Purity got annoyed. “It is not as easy as that. You cannot keep me safe if my father chooses to wed me to someone or if I am forced to wed someone.”

  “It is easy,” he insisted. “You once asked me to wed you.”

  “I begged you to wed me,” she reminded, feeling ashamed that she had pleaded with him.

  “However it was, I accept. We will wed and that will keep you safe.”

  Chapter 4

  Purity woke the next morning frustrated. Arran refused to see reason no matter how much she argued against his proposal. He was intent on seeing her kept safe and sacrifice himself to do so. She was not so willing. She used to dream—more so pray—to one day become his wife, and though her love for him hadn’t faded, the dream and prayers had. Many things had changed, including her. He’d always have her heart, but life was different for her now. She had found a place for herself and she was content.

  She stretched herself out of bed and hurried out of a worn shift that she used for sleeping and into her day shift and tunic. Both garments were a bit worn but they did well enough. She had one more shift and tunic less worn and wore it as little as possible so it would last. Wren, the woman who lived here before her, left a few garments for her, but she saved them for future use.

  Her life was good here and no matter what Arran had said, she would not return home with him and she certainly wouldn’t become his wife.

  After giving her hair a good combing and braiding it, she ventured outside. Arran had refused her offer to bed down in the cottage on the floor. He insisted on remaining outside even though a misty rain had been falling. She hadn’t argued with him, since she was learning quickly enough there was no arguing with him. He would lear
n soon enough his dictates were lost on her.

  She stepped outside and she froze in place as her eyes settled on Arran’s naked back. He stood with his back to her next to the rain barrel, water streaming down the grooves, muscles, and scars along his back. Five years ago, she had watched him from the woods when he’d been on the practice field. Often in the summer he would remove his shirt and she recalled how smooth and unmarred his skin had been and the muscles along his back and arms had been plentiful. His back was unmarred no more. It bore a mixture of scars he had to have gotten in battle and some from the lash of a whip. His shoulders seemed broader than she remembered, though it could be the muscles he had gained there and along his arms that made him appear that way.

  She jumped startled when he turned to her.

  “The scars on my back hold tales I will never tell you and you will never ask me about,” he said.

  Purity’s gaze rested on his naked chest and midriff. His flesh was solid and rippled with more muscle than she had ever seen on him and a scar—long healed—marred his left shoulder. What cruelty had he lived that scars forever stained his skin? Her heart hurt for him and she had the urge to hug him tight, to infuse him with her love, and chase away the pain of the past.

  “Don’t waste your time on sorrow for me, Purity. I left more scars on others than the ones left on me.” He grabbed his linen shirt off the small bench near the rain barrel. “You have today to gather what you wish to take with you. We leave early tomorrow.”

  Purity sighed. “I don’t know how many times I must say this before you grasp it. I’m not going with you.”