Highlander's Captive Page 5

  “Don’t worry I will confirm that Owen was a perfect gentleman and slept on the opposite side of the campfire from you.”

  “How would you—” The thought startled her silent for a moment, and then she swatted his arm that hugged her stomach. “You were spying on us.”

  “That I was, so I will be able to confirm that nothing improper happened between you and Owen.”

  “Nothing improper has happened between us,” she snapped.

  He laughed. “We are naked in bed together.”

  “To save our lives.”

  “And your brother will want to save your reputation.”

  “He can easily do that by granting permission for Owen and me to wed,” Wintra said, though had her doubts.

  Torr pressed his cheek to hers. “Owen is not in bed with you naked, I am.”

  Wintra gave his rib a good jab with her elbow, though it did not seem to bother him in the least. “You would force me to wed you? And you claim to be honorable?”

  “I would not force you to do anything unless...”

  “Unless what?” she demanded.

  “Unless you were too stubborn to see that it was best for you.”

  With a sharp, unexpected wiggle, she managed to loosen his grip and with a swift turn of her body, faced him. “Too stubborn? What is best for me? And, of course, just like my brother, you would know what is best for me.”

  “I would.”

  “You are so sure?”

  “Absolutely, and I can prove it.”

  “Please do.”

  He brought his face close to hers. “It was best we remained back to front in bed or else the temptation of your hard nipples pressing into my chest and your lips, so damn rosy and plump for kissing would be too damn hard to ignore. And once I started kissing you, I wouldn’t stop and you would not want me to stop. Then we would have a much bigger problem.”

  His warm breath fanned her face and tickled her senses, or was it his words that had her senses befuddled? Why did her skin tingle? She had never experienced such odd sensations with Owen, but then Owen had never even held her hand. Surely, she would feel the same if—

  “Oh,” she sighed when suddenly an exquisite throb started between her legs. She had felt it on occasion and had talked with one of the nuns about it, thinking there had been something wrong with her. The nun had explained that it was a wicked feeling and that she must ignore it. Never. Never must she surrender to it. The only time surrender was permitted was when she wed and wanted to make a child with her husband. She had wondered if they had told her the truth, and then one day a woman, round with child, had come to the abbey. The nuns had told her that the woman had not ignored the wickedness when it had hit her, and she was now carrying a bastard child. Her family sent her away to have the babe, and the babe would be given to a peasant family to raise, and she would be forced to take her vows at the abbey. The birth had been a difficult one and the woman and child had died. The nuns had said it was for the best.

  It had upset Wintra for she found it a constant battle to fight the wicked feeling that so often overcame her. She had gotten on her knees and prayed, each and every time the feeling had snuck up on her, until it went away, though it had returned again and again. She had done a lot of praying on her knees. But this—this—felt so heavenly that she could not understand how it could be considered wicked.

  His lips brushed hers and the throb increased.

  “One taste, just one taste,” Torr said more to himself than to Wintra. He had warned himself against it, but he couldn’t resist. He needed just one taste to satisfy his curiosity, and then it would be done. He brushed his lips across hers, and damn if they didn’t intoxicate. He had to taste her, he simply had to.

  As soon as his lips touched hers the throb turned to a merciless beat and the nuns’ endless warnings echoed in her head.

  Wicked. Wicked. Wicked. Stop!

  “Stop!” It was as if the word shot from her mind to her lips.

  Torr snapped his head back, her sharp yell feeling like a stinging blow.

  “Do not kiss me. Y-y-you have no right,” she said stumbling on her words while her chest heaved heavily.

  He was no novice when it came to kissing or making love to women. He could tell when a woman was willing and when passion had taken hold of her. Passion had budded in Wintra, but he was not the man she loved.

  She turned around without saying a word and lay still. She was relieved that Torr did not reach out and touch her. She feared that if he did she would surrender to the wickedness. And for a moment the memory of that poor woman’s continuous cries of pain as she tried so hard to bring her babe into the world surfaced to haunt and warn.

  What also disturbed her was the thought that she had been about to surrender so easily to Torr, a complete stranger. Was she one of those women the nuns told her about? The ones who would succumb to the wickedness and spread their legs for any man, even complete strangers?

  Wintra hurried to silently recite prayer after prayer. As she did, she began to shiver, not from the cold, for she was still warm from his kisses, but from fear of how she so easily could have surrendered to this man. Another shiver, a stronger one, hit her, thinking of how horrible the consequences could have been. And she promised herself she would never, ever let it happen again.

  By how stiff she lay beside him, Torr knew she would not want him to touch her. But she had shivered too often and this last one had quivered her body much too hard. She still held a chill. She needed warming.

  He reached out and grabbed quick hold of her, securing his arms over hers as he drew her back against him. She struggled as he expected she would, and he rested his legs over hers to stop her from thrashing about.

  “Stop!” he ordered sharply. “I will do nothing but hold you, so that we both stay warm.”

  “I have your word on that? My brother’s warriors are expected to honor their word. I expect the same.”

  “You have my word.”

  The tenseness left Wintra’s body, though a spark of it remained. Torr hadn’t expected anything less. She trusted him only to a point. It was good that she did, for he did not trust himself. She enticed like no other woman, something he hadn’t expected.

  “Why do you love, Owen?” he asked to his own surprise.

  It surprised her that she struggled for an answer. Why did she love Owen? He had been kind and good to her. He paid her attention when most didn’t, and he talked with her as if he was interested in what she had to say. But since there was no one to talk with about falling in love, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel when falling in love.

  “Can why you love someone be explained that easily?” she found herself asking.

  “Love grabs the heart and won’t let go no matter how much you fight it.”

  “You know this from experience?”

  “From what I’ve observed.”

  “You have never been in love then?” she asked and wondered why she should be so curious.

  “No, love has never struck me, though I wouldn’t mind if it did.”

  “You wish to fall in love?”

  “I do, and I hope it is at least half as strong as the love your brother has for Dawn, his future wife.”

  Wintra found herself speechless for a moment, and then questions poured out. “My brother has fallen in love? He is going to wed? Who is this woman? What is she like? Does she love my brother as he loves her? I cannot believe this.”

  “Believe it. Your brother has fallen in love with my sister and will wed her soon. Dawn is a kind, loving, wonderful woman and your brother is lucky to have found her. And he is lucky that she loves him.”

  “My brother is a good man,” Wintra snapped defending Cree, though at the moment she was angry with him or was it more disappointment that she felt. Now she understood why he hadn’t come for her himself. He was too busy being in love to bother with his sister. She was surprised he had not suggested that she take her vows and remain at the abbe
y. This way she wouldn’t be in his way, interfere with his life, or be more trouble than she was worth to him.

  Her heart felt heavy. She loved Cree dearly and missed him terribly. She had thought he felt the same. He had repeatedly promised her that they would once again be family, be together, never to part. Now he would have a wife. Would there be room for his sister in his life?

  “I agree. Your brother is a good man, and he will see that you have a good husband.”

  Torr answered the question on her mind without her having to ask it. She and Cree would never be family again. He would find her a husband and send her away—again.

  “I have found a good man to be my husband,” she said rebelliously.

  “It is not your choice to make.”

  “My brother can find love, but I cannot?”

  “You should discuss that with your brother,” Torr advised, attempting to delay the inevitable.

  “Discuss?” She gave a defiant laugh. “What is there to discuss? I have no say in the matter. It will be decided for me.”

  I think not. She wished she could have shouted the words at him, but she wisely kept silent. She would not be forced into a marriage with a man she did not know, who she did not love, and who did not love her.

  Owen had claimed to love her. After they had become better acquainted, he had begun to hint at his feelings for her. Until one day, he had boldly admitted that he had fallen in love with her. He had struck her speechless, and she had not been too pleased with what he had said in her wake of silence.

  “You are virginal in so many ways that I am sure you do not even know that you are in love with me. I see your love for me in your eyes, and I am honored that one so beautiful would love me.”

  Did she truly love Owen or had she seen it as a chance to escape the abbey that had grown more confining every day?

  “Perhaps the decision would be one that will suit you.”

  Wintra had almost forgotten that Torr lay wrapped around her that was how natural it felt to be in his arms. She sighed, having grown tired of the worry. “The only decision that would suit me is the one I would make myself.”

  “Be careful that your mulishness doesn’t lose you something that may be good for you.”

  “I know what is good for me,” she insisted.

  “As you say,” he said as if the matter was settled.

  “How long before the clothes dry, do you think?” she asked on a yawn.

  “Hours. They are well soaked.”

  “We will be here through the night then?”

  “It would seem likely, especially if the snowstorm continues.”

  Wintra felt weary. She hadn’t slept well last night at all, waking often and at every sound. An odd thing had happened though, and she hadn’t given it much thought until just now. When she had finally fallen asleep, her eyes heavy with fatigue, something had stirred her awake. Her vision had been bleary, but she had thought she had seen Owen leaving the campsite. It had been a ridiculous thought, so much so that she had fallen back to sleep without worry. Owen would never leave her alone, unprotected. What then had she seen?

  She had been foolish not to shake herself awake and make certain Owen had been there. After all, he had gone off in the morning to hunt for food without telling her. But why would he leave in the dark of night? Where would he be going? Unless it had been to relieve himself. Why had not she been more observant? And should she have been so trusting of Owen?

  Suddenly, she wondered if it would be wiser of her to return to her brother. Cree loved her, she had no doubt of that, so would he not want to see her happy? Would he not grant her permission to wed a man of her choosing? Owen had all intentions of speaking with Cree and seeking his permission to wed her, so what did it matter if she simply went on ahead and spoke with her brother about Owen? She could have the matter settled before Owen arrived and all would be settled easily.

  With her mind at ease and her body exhausted, though toasty warm, Wintra drifted off to sleep.

  Torr could feel when her body relaxed and sleep claimed her. It was as if she melted in his arms, as if she surrendered. He chased away the thought of her surrendering to him. His arousal had finally eased and he did not want it returning any time soon. He had always managed to control his desires rather than give them free rein. It was far less troublesome that way. And as far as beautiful women—they were just as troublesome. Add to that stubborn, and you really had a problem. And that problem was lying in his arms right now, and damn if she didn’t feel good there.

  The heat from their snug bodies had him finally relaxing, his eyes drifting closed, though he came alert when the wind rapped against the door. It sounded as if the snowstorm had intensified, and he worried that they would be stuck there for days rather than hours. He wanted to get Wintra home, so that Cree could settle the problem.

  He smiled as he dozed off, wondering how the mighty Cree would fare against his beautiful, tenacious sister.

  Chapter Six

  Torr inched the door open to take a look. The snow and wind had eased to a trickle. Once their clothes dried they could be on their way. He shut the door and went to test the garments. His were nearly dry, but Wintra’s would take a bit longer. He stoked the fire, and then stood warming his hands.

  He didn’t know how long he had slept, though the fire hadn’t died down that much, so it couldn’t have been that long. He was anxious to be on his way. He didn’t care for the troop of warriors he had seen Owen with. He did not think it would bode well for him if their paths should cross. While he did not doubt his fighting skills, he also did not doubt that he would be outnumbered. His instinct had served him well in battle and he always paid it heed. And presently instinct was warning him to beware of Owen and his intention regarding Wintra.

  Another two days, possibly three due to the snow, and they should be home, or at least on Cree’s land. Would Owen dare follow there? And how had he reacted when he had discovered that the woman he loved was gone? Torr’s own task had been a simple one, bring Wintra home, but had proven far more a puzzle than he had imagined.

  Wintra had been abducted and Owen had conveniently rescued her and decided to take her to his friend’s home due to the snowstorm. So why send his men away, leaving him and Wintra on their own, unprotected? Unless he knew another troop of warriors were nearby, though why meet with them secretly?

  He turned, his glance falling on Wintra. Her wound still needed cleaning, the blood having caked around the abrasion while some blood had dried along her brow. He hadn’t been concerned with it, since it had stopped bleeding rather fast, a good sign. He shook his head as he continued to stare. The blood on her face did nothing to distract from her beauty. He wondered if anything could.

  He gave his head a firm shake and turned away from her. This was definitely going to be more difficult than he had thought, and not just for him.

  “Torr.”

  He turned, his name having spilled anxiously from her lips, only to find her still asleep.

  “Help me, Torr,” she whispered even more anxiously.

  She was crying out to him in her sleep, seeking his help, but why him and not Owen? He did not hesitate to go to her, slip beneath the covers, and take her in his arms. She snuggled back against him as his arms closed around her.

  “You are safe with me and always will be. You have my word.”

  It was as if her whole body sighed with relief and relaxed once more.

  ~~~

  Wintra woke with a start. It took her a moment to realize where she was and why. She sat up in bed, holding the blanket over her naked breasts, and stared wide-eyed at Torr.

  “You are dressed,” she said surprised or was she relieved?

  “Your garments are still a bit damp.”

  “How long before they dry, and how long have I slept?” she asked, lifting her hand to her hair, knowing it must look a sight, but then it always did, the mass of curls doing as they pleased.

  He was upon her so fast, g
rabbing hold of her wrist that she did not have a chance to respond.

  “Your wound, remember?” he explained.

  She nodded and tugged to free her wrist, and he released it without hesitation. He was proving more and more to be a decent man.

  “I will get some snow and melt it so I can cleanse the wound for you,” he said and turned to see to the task.

  Wintra watched him as he scooped up a worn bucket near the fire and went to the door. His muscled frame was now familiar, very familiar, and she found herself intrigued by it. She studied his every movement. His muscles grew taut as he reached and bent just outside the door, and then he stood tall, his shoulders drawn back and his chest expanding. He was delicious.

  Delicious?

  Whatever was she thinking? It was as if she was salivating over him as she would over a luscious sweet. Luscious sweet? Had she gone completely mad? Good lord, she was one of those wanton women who couldn’t control herself. She shut her eyes and shook her head. She was a good woman. Then why did she throb between her legs when she looked at him? She would pray. Prayer would save her. And she would not look at him.

  “Is something wrong, Wintra?”

  Concern filled his voice, actual concern. He may have been ordered to see to her safety, but his concern for her was his own, and it tugged at her heart. She kept her eyes closed as she answered, “Nothing is wrong; I am fine.”

  Torr stared at her not sure what troubled her, but knowing something did. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Why did he have to sound so sincere? She could not recall Owen ever sounding as sincere as Torr. One day, when she had been upset, Owen had asked if she was all right, and when she had told him she was fine he had simply accepted her response, not so Torr. He had seemed to sense that she wasn’t fine and was concerned enough to ask again.

  “Somewhat fine,” she corrected.

  “Open your eyes, look at me, and tell me what is troubling you.”