Entrusted to a Highlander Page 6

  Arran stared after her. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him without him initiating the kiss, not yet at least. She had surprised him and it had appeared that she had also surprised herself. It was, however, a start for them.

  He wished he could give her more of himself, but something inside him had died slowly with each battle until—there was nothing left of himself to give.

  Your lips are the only ones I ever wanted on mine.

  Her words had startled him when he had asked about kissing her. He hadn’t known what to make of them. He had said nothing, since he hadn’t known what to say. Did she have feelings for him? Had she always had feelings for him? When she had begged him to marry her years ago, it was to save her from having to wed a man of her father’s choosing. Or so he thought.

  He shook his head. He had no time to get lost in such thought. He had to see to the dead men and get back to Purity. While he worked on moving the bodies, his mind worked on possibilities. He’d found himself wondering about the first three men who attacked her. What had they been doing in a remote part of the woods, an area people seldom frequented? The few snatches of conversation he had caught when he had followed the scream told a different story. They hadn’t happened upon her. They had been there searching for her. And with the two men showing up today and charging at him with their weapons, instinct told him they had purposely been there for her as well. He had the strong suspicion that someone was after Purity. Why? Could her father have sent men out searching for her? If so, why now? Why hadn’t he searched for her years ago?

  Something was amiss where Purity was concerned and he was determined to make sure nothing happened to her and even more determined to make her his wife. It was the one way he could definitely protect her.

  Arran sat on the chair braced against the door to sleep later that night. Instead of sleeping, he listened to Purity’s restless twists and turns in bed, until he finally asked, “What’s wrong, Purity?”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “My mind is too busy for sleep.”

  “Talk to me. Tell me about your time in the woods. Have you spent it here all alone these many years?” he asked, having been unable to sleep himself and wishing to hear more about her life since he’d been gone.

  He didn’t command. He actually sounded interested in knowing and so Purity found it easy to respond to him. “I’ve only been here in Wren’s cottage for about two months.”

  “Before that where were you?”

  “About a fifteen-minute walk from here. After the group of us, mostly women, and a couple of older, wounded men, escaped the mayhem and horror of the attack, we did as Raven told us to do—we found the witch. Actually, though, she found us wandering. She showed us a safe place where we could stay. We got busy constructing shelters, hunting for food, making a home for ourselves until the day we could return home. At least we all hoped for that. After a couple of years passed, a few got discouraged, especially when the news that reached our ears was not good. The only thing that kept us going was your da, Chieftain of the Clan MacKinnon, growing stronger with time. And when news came that you and Royden continued to live, hope thrived and your da encouraged it. He swore that one day the Clan MacKinnon would be even more powerful than it once had been.”

  “There must have been much rejoicing when you received word of Royden returning home,” he said and though shadows hid her face, he knew she smiled. He could hear it in her response.

  “Aye, much rejoicing and even more so when we heard that Royden and Oria had wed. Everyone agreed, the Clan MacKinnon would grow powerful once again.”

  “But you couldn’t leave because you didn’t know what would happen when you returned home. So you stayed here all alone.” She did what she had to do and yet it gnawed at his gut that she’d been forced into that situation. She should have never been left here alone, though he knew what she would say.

  “I’m not alone. I have King and Princess, and many more animals that call the woods their home,” Purity said. “And I truly love Wren’s cottage and her wonderful garden, and that it sits secluded with an abundance of foliage and trees. I’ve been content.”

  “You will be content wed to me.”

  Purity couldn’t contain the light laughter that bubbled from her. “You command me to be content when we wed?”

  “I don’t command. It will be so. We are friends. Friends that have known each other for some time. Our families are friends. I will treat you well. You will have no reason to complain. We have already established that we both enjoy each other’s kisses. Therefore, you will be content wed to me.”

  Once again he mentioned them being friends. How could he have thought that when he had barely spoken to her. Years ago she wouldn’t dare voice what she truly thought. But much had changed, including her, so she spoke her mind.

  “Friends?” she questioned. “I didn’t think we were friends, acquaintances perhaps, or I was simply Bayne’s sister to you, but never were we friends. Friends talk with each other, spend time together. We did none of that.”

  “Acquaintances then if you must, but friends now. We talk and spend time together” he said as if that proved and settled it.

  She laughed again and not too lightly. “We spend time together because you refuse to leave, and as for talking? I do most of it. You offer little. If we are friends, or to be friends, then share with me,” —she turned serious— “tell me how you got those scars on your back.”

  When silence followed, she questioned that if they couldn’t be friends, if he couldn’t talk freely with her, then how could they ever be husband and wife.

  Arran never intended to tell anyone, though there were a few who knew, like him that thought the same, the memories were better left alone. And Purity certainly didn’t need to know and yet for some reason he had the urge to tell her.

  He didn’t stop himself. “I was taken captive during a battle with a horde of savages. Their leader—a soulless, evil man—enjoyed inflicting pain. You never knew when you would be beaten or which prisoner would get taken. Or if you would have days or hours after the last beating to recover. One prisoner suffered so badly—so many beatings—he begged for death.” He cringed, the stench of the cell returning to him along with the man’s pleas. “He begged and begged and begged for one of us to kill him, to end his suffering. Everyone had been warned not to help him or they would suffer tenfold for it. One night when everyone slept, I crawled over to him, not making a sound. I placed my hand over his mouth and his eyes went wide. I removed my hand and I nodded and he smiled and nodded in return. He took my hand and placed it over his mouth and nose. It would have been faster and easier for him if I snapped his neck, but they would have known his neck had been snapped and so he let me know how I should end his misery. He closed his eyes ready to meet death. Suffocation would have taken too long and he no doubt would have struggled and brought attention to us. I didn’t even give it thought. I snapped his neck quickly. In the morning when they found him, I let the guards know what I did so that no one else would be punished.” He shook his head. “I should have known better. I got lashed first. Then I was made to watch as the other men were made to suffer worse than I did.”

  Arran was stunned when Purity suddenly appeared before him and dropped down into his lap, her arms going around his neck as she laid her head on his shoulder, and his arms went around her.

  “I’m so sorry. You were so brave to do that and so kind.”

  He heard her sniff back tears, but he couldn’t let her think that he was brave or kind. “I’m neither of those, Purity. My only thought had been that the man had been used by our captives to keep us in fear. If someone helped him we’d suffer, if no one helped we’d still suffer watching him die slowly and painfully, wondering which one of us would be next. So out of fear of being the next man begging to die we all suffered. I didn’t kill him out of kindness. I did it to regain control, though I doubt any understood that.”

  Purity raised her head off his shoulder and looked
at him. “You can tell yourself that all you want, but I know differently. You’re kind and that’s hasn’t changed.”

  Arran grabbed the back of her neck as his lips came down hard on hers. He purposely kissed her with force. He wanted her to understand that there was a brutality to him that wasn’t there before. He shoved past her lips with his tongue, waging a battle with hers. He waited for her to fight him, to break free of him, and he would let her go since she’d finally see what kind of man he had become. She shocked him when she returned his kiss with just as much force, her arm coiling around his neck and holding on, her tongue battling his with fervor, and her breasts pressed against his chest, her hard nipples jabbing at him like the tips of a dagger, leaving their mark. And his shaft swelled in response.

  He hooked his arm under her legs and another around her back and bolted to his feet to carry her over to the bed and drop her down on it before it was too late and he lost not only control but his mind. He couldn’t recall ever not only needing but wanting a woman as much as he wanted Purity right now. Where had his control gone?

  “I am not kind,” he said, sounding like he growled and glad for it.

  Purity raised herself up on her elbows. “No, you’re not. You ended a remarkable kiss when it wasn’t necessary.”

  “It was necessary,” he argued and when she went to protest, he yanked aside the hide hanging between his legs. His shaft jutted out stiff and proud, almost touching her face. “It was necessary since I refuse to couple with you before we’re properly wed.”

  Why in heaven’s name did she have the urge to touch it? That strange thought had her lifting her eyes up to his and saying quickly, “You should return to the chair.”

  Arran did just that without speaking a word, his heart pounding and his shaft aching. He had gotten to a point when he needed a poke he’d find a willing woman to accommodate him. He had felt nothing for the woman, she had been a means to an end—his need being satisfied. Not so with Purity. There was something about her that he still couldn’t grasp, couldn’t figure out, but it was more than a poke, and more than a need that he wanted her to satisfy.

  After a few minutes of silence, Purity said, “Arran, I’m truly glad you told me about your scars.” He didn’t respond and she hadn’t expected him to. She turned on her side after pulling the blanket over her and prayed sleep would come fast.

  Arran silently argued with himself for having told her. He should have never done it and yet part of him was glad he had. They were to wed and she should know how much he had changed. And she certainly had to know how wrong she was thinking him kind. It was obvious and he wished she wouldn’t be so blind to it.

  He silently cursed, annoyed at himself and more annoyed that his arousal refused to abate. His control was slipping and he wouldn’t have that. If he couldn’t control something so minor, how would he be able to keep command of anything?

  Memories. Harsh memories, that was what he needed to think on. The face that had been burned in his memory shot up in his mind. He’d been a fierce looking man. Scars and pure evil marred every curve, line, and wrinkle on his face that may have one time held fine features. No more. Evil had won out. Evil had control of him.

  He hoped that somehow, someday, he’d have the pleasure of killing the monster.

  Arran didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, though he’d been glad for it, and glad he had learned to exist on little sleep. And glad he had woken before Purity. He hurried into the rest of his clothes and headed outside and after seeing to his horse, he headed into the woods with plans to hunt to see them fed.

  His thoughts were so chaotic that he found himself cursing several failed attempts at snaring an animal.

  “Looks like luck and skill isn’t with you today.”

  Arran turned, his dagger in hand, annoyed he had failed to hear someone approach, though relieved to see… “Brother Noble.”

  The brown-robed figure kept his distance, his head bowed and his hood down low so that no one could look upon him and no one wanted to. He was a leper. He resided at Stitchill Monastery and delivered messages to and from the monastery. Arran had met him shortly after his release and he had taken messages back and forth between Arran and Royden, keeping Arran updated on what went on at home.

  “You do well?” Arran asked.

  “As well as can be expected for one whose flesh is rotting away,” Brother Noble said and turned away coughing. He turned back, clearing his throat, though it still sounded raspy when he spoke. “Any luck finding your sister?”

  “Not yet, but I have hope.” A sudden thought hit him and he was quick to say. “I have a favor to ask of you, Brother Noble.”

  “Ask. If I can grant it, I will,” he said.

  “I need you to perform a wedding ceremony.”

  “Who wishes to wed?” Brother Noble asked.

  “Me.”

  Chapter 7

  “Marry you now?” Purity asked, not sure she heard him correctly.

  “We don’t know what awaits us on our return home,” Arran explained. “Brother Noble can wed us, then register our marriage with the monastery. Once you’re my wife, you’re—”

  “Under your rule, your dictate,” she finished.

  “Under my protection,” he corrected. “You’ll be safe with me and with no worry of your future.”

  “It’s so sudden,” she said. It was one thing to talk about marrying him but now with that decision right in front of her, she was uncertain if it was the wise or right thing to do.

  “Aye, it is sudden, but it’s necessary. I never thought to wed, but I will gladly wed to see you safe, Purity.”

  “I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me,” she snapped, annoyed that he married her out of a duty he felt necessary to uphold.

  “It is no sacrifice. I do this willingly.”

  Her most precious dream and worst nightmare were colliding. She had often imagined becoming his wife and sharing a life with him and she had had nightmares of being forced to wed out of duty. How could she ever reconcile the two?

  He stepped close to her, cupping her face in his hand, his long fingers spreading along her cheek and under her jaw as his thumb grazed her lips. She silently cursed herself for going weak in the legs when he touched her with a tender intimacy.

  “I know this isn’t what either of us wanted, but we both know it’s necessary. I will tell you as often as you need to hear it—I will be a good husband to you. I will always be there for you. I will always protect you.”

  It was reasonable under the circumstances. She couldn’t argue that. But she also didn’t want to be trapped in a situation that might not prove necessary. “When we return home if all is well and our marriage proves unnecessary will you agree to dissolve it?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation and to her surprise. “If we don’t consummate our vows and seal our union then it can be easily nullified, leaving you vulnerable. I won’t chance that.”

  This all had to be a dream and she would wake up and be what? Happy or disappointed to find she didn’t have a chance to wed Arran Mackinnon?

  Disappointed.

  Her answer made her decision easy. “Let us wed and be done with it.”

  Arran stole a gentle kiss, then whispered, “Not done, just beginning.”

  Brother Noble kept his distance as he coughed, gasped, and struggled his way through joining them together as husband and wife. And while Purity didn’t understand most of what Brother Noble had said—or she was still too shocked to understand him—she clearly heard him say, “And with God’s good grace and blessing I join you as husband and wife.”

  “Thank you, Brother Noble,” Purity said when it was done, familiar with the leper since he had passed this way a few times.

  “It is my pleasure and may I wish you both many bairns and many happy years together,” Brother Noble said with a raspy struggle. “Now I must go. Stay safe.”

  “You as well, Brother Noble,” Arran said.

  Pu
rity stood there glancing around. Princess laid stretched out on the ground in a spot that caught the sun and King was curled in a ball sleeping close by him. The birds twittered in the trees, a light breeze rustled the colorful autumn leaves, sending some of them drifting to the ground. Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed.

  “Are you all right, wife?” Arran asked, the name falling easily from his lips and, oddly, liking how it sounded.

  “It’s no different,” she said with a touch of sorrow.

  He stepped closer and reached out, running his hand slowly down her cheek. “Everything is different—you, me, our families. Nothing is the same as it had once been. We start anew. We have no choice.”

  He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  “Has Princess’s paw healed enough to walk?” he asked.

  “Why? You want us to leave?” she asked, not ready yet. She needed time to digest that she was Arran’s wife.

  “No, we’ll remain here a few more days. But my hunting excursion was a dismal failure and I thought we’d all go to catch fish.” He looked up. “The sky is clear. There is an unusually warm breeze and who knows how long both will last. We should take advantage of it while we can.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, thinking this might work. They could actually be a family.

  “Good,” he said and leaned down to give her a quick kiss, then he turned to the animals. “Come on, King, Princess, we’re going fishing.”

  Purity sat by the edge of the water, Arran beside her, and King looking none too happy that no one was fishing. She was glad they didn’t rush. She enjoyed sitting quietly beside him, listening to the water cascade over the rocks, letting the pungent scent of the woods tickle her nose, and letting her eyes linger on the beauty of the area.

  “You’ll miss this,” he said.

  “Is it that obvious?” she asked with a soft chuckle. “I’ve always been partial to the woods. It was and still is a sanctuary to me, a place that offers comfort.”