Pledged to a Highlander Page 6

  “I owe you an apology,” Oria said.

  Royden hadn’t expected that from her and if anyone owed an apology, he did—for everything. She spoke before he could stop her.

  “I let my anger get the better of me and said something that was purposely meant to hurt you but was not the truth. You kept me as safe as you could that day. You fought bravely protecting not only me but the whole clan. I was proud of you then and I still am. And I am proud to be your wife. I hope you can forgive me.”

  He was stunned by her apology, though more stunned that she was proud of him and proud to be his wife. “It is me who owes you the apology. It is unforgiveable what I said to you. I can blame it on my own anger, but I’m not even sure from where that anger came.”

  “It hasn’t been an easy reunion,” she said before he could say any more. “We both have changed.”

  But what of their love. Had it changed as well, he wondered.

  A knock at the door had Bethany entering with a platter of meat, cheese, and bread. She placed it on the chest beside Oria and went to the table and filled two tankards with wine, handing one to Royden and the other to Oria, then she left without a word.

  “Tell me about Burnell and your marriage. I’d like to know,” Royden said and handed a piece of cheese to his wife. She was in need of food and he intended to see she got it.

  Oria took it, though made no effort to eat it. She held it in her hand and she seemed to drift away in thought for a moment.

  He didn’t think she noticed that she sighed heavily before speaking.

  “Burnell treated me well. He was tender and mannerly and soft-spoken. He never lost his temper or raised a hand to me.” She ran her fingers over the scar along her jaw. “Burnell had Letha, Clan Learmonth’s healer, tend my wound. She did the best she could.” Her hand hastily fell away from her face as if she wanted no more memories of that time. “Burnell gave me something I thought I had but until I got it, I never realized I didn’t have it in the first place.”

  “What is that?” he asked, thinking he had always given her what she asked of him.

  “Freedom,” she said softly and with a smile of a cherished gift she had appreciated. “I could come and go as I pleased.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Royden said, the thought of her going off completely on her own a frightening one.

  She swallowed the bite of cheese she had taken and sipped a bit of wine before responding. “I found it exhilarating, not having to seek permission for almost everything I did.”

  The thought of her going off on her own as she had done when she had gone into the woods would not work with him. He would worry endlessly not knowing where she was, what danger she may be in.

  “I will not have my wife going off as she pleases,” he said and could hear the command in his voice. It was a necessity for a time and though now not always needed, it was a habit not easy to break.

  “I’m not your wife—yet,” Oria said.

  Her tongue had never been quick or defiant with him. That had changed. She was right. She wasn’t truly considered his wife until their marriage was consummated.

  “It’s not a tender, mannerly husband who will be in your bed this time,” Royden warned. “Are you prepared for that?”

  There was a time that ‘aye’ would have spilled from her lips without hesitation. But that would have been to a man she had known well and loved with all her heart. That man was gone replaced by a man she no longer knew, though she still loved even though he was now a stranger to her. She had sought seclusion these last three days, the incident in the woods forcing her to think on all that had happened since his return. He was a man filled with anger and also blame. And she couldn’t help but think that he blamed her for marrying Burnell. Much needed to be settled between them, only then would their marriage—their future—have a chance at succeeding.

  “Your hesitation answers for you,” Royden said with annoyance.

  “Let me explain.”

  “What is there to explain? You either welcome me in your bed or you don’t,” he snapped.

  “I suppose it is that simple,” she said with a sadness that tugged at her heart.

  “Then I’ll have an answer,” Royden demanded.

  This time Oria didn’t hesitate, even though it hurt her to say, “I’m not ready to welcome you to my bed yet.”

  Royden lashed out in anger, raising his arm that had no hand. “Can’t stand the thought of a stump caressing your naked flesh?”

  If only he could feel the tingle of excitement and anticipation that raced through her at the thought of his touch, whether it was his hand or his stump, it didn’t matter. She’d never stopped aching for his touch. Or dreaming. Good Lord, the dreams of him touching her had driven her mad with desire.

  “I have no aversion to your stump, Royden,” she said softly.

  She spoke as she once did, with a gentleness that also reminded him of her honesty. Was it possible? Was the loss of his hand not repugnant to her?

  “How did you lose your hand?” she asked.

  Neither knew what had happened to the other, what things had forged new strengths and what things had depleted them, and what had changed them, during the five years that had separated them. Oria wanted to know, but she also knew how difficult it would be to share those things.

  “You weren’t here to see it?” Royden asked to confirm that she hadn’t, hence her question. If that was so, he was relieved. It hadn’t been a sight for her to have seen.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  He hesitated. There was no need for her to know.

  “Please, Royden, I want to know

  He relented. “It was at the end of the battle the day of the attack. I could tell we were losing, but I couldn’t surrender, either could Arran.” He didn’t say how he had hoped, prayed, begged God to see that she had somehow managed to escape. He had feared for her outcome more than he had for himself. “It happened so quickly. I heard Arran warn with a yell and I struck down the warrior I was fighting. My arm instinctively went up to protect me from whoever rushed up behind me. His sword came down and my hand was gone. Arran and I both sent our swords through the warrior and that’s how the battle ended. If it hadn’t been for Bethany searing the wound when she did and Arran’s help, I would have died.”

  A cold dread ran over Oria at the horrible image his words had painted and the suffering he must have endured. The thought of how close he came to death frightened her senseless. It had been a terror she had lived with until word had reached her and she had discovered that Royden was still alive. A joyous and sad day. She’d been filled with joy for him, but saddened beyond belief that they weren’t together.

  “I don’t need your pity,” Royden said, seeing it in her eyes.

  “You mistake pity for sorrow.”

  “I don’t need that either,” he said, snappishly. “Life goes on no matter what.”

  “It certainly does, but there is time to grieve.”

  He huffed and stood, going to refill his wine from the jug on the table. “What good does it do to grieve? It won’t change anything. The only thing that matters is to fight and conquer,”

  He hadn’t thought that way before and his words gave her a glimpse of what life must have been like for him the past five years. He had lived an endless battle to survive, and her heart broke for him.

  He returned to his chair, taking a gulp of wine before he spoke. “We’re wed and nothing is going to change that, since I won’t see you—”

  “Homeless,” she finished, though wished for a different response.

  He shook his head. “Taken and given to another.”

  Her heart plummeted. For a brief moment, she thought he was about to say taken from him. She wanted to hear that from him. Hear that he never wanted to let her go. Hear that he still loved her or loved her more than ever before.

  “You need to eat,” he said, pointing to the platter of food. “Bethany is worried about you.”
>
  What about him? Was he worried at all about her? She certainly was worried about him.

  She picked up a piece of cheese.

  “There’s much to be done around here. I could use all the help I can get,” he said, wanting to keep her from isolating herself in her bedchamber.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked with little enthusiasm.

  That she seemed not the least bit interested sparked his anger and he spoke harshly. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and see to your duties.”

  She almost let her tongue loose on him, but stopped. She hadn’t seen to the duties expected of a wife. How could she when she didn’t even feel like a wife? That was no excuse though. She had given herself time to consider everything or had it been grief that had kept her tucked away? Had she needed to grieve for what had truly been lost to her and Royden before she could begin again? She didn’t know. She only knew she had to go on living just as she had done when she had lost him on their wedding day.

  “I will see to my duties,” she said.

  He wondered just how well she would when her response lacked emotion. She had once been so eager to be his wife and take over the duties of the keep. But that had all changed. There was no going back, no wishing, no dreaming that things would again be the way they once were. They would never be the same again.

  Oria dropped the piece of cheese on the platter not having taken another bite.

  “You need to eat,” Royden said as if it was an order.

  “I’m not hungry,”

  “That doesn’t matter. You eat to keep up your strength whether you want to or not. You never know where your next meal may come from,” he warned.

  His remark gave her another view into his time spent away.

  She had to ask, “Did you know hunger, Royden?”

  “The past is the past, Oria, let it stay there,” Royden said. “Now eat.”

  Oria didn’t wish to argue. She took the piece of cheese she had returned to the platter and nibbled on it.

  “How long did the mercenaries remain on Burnell’s land?” Royden asked, needing to turn the conversation away from them.

  “A few remained while a majority of them left after a year. They just packed up and one day were gone.” Oria said and shook her head. “It was so strange, though Burnell didn’t seem surprised.”

  “You think he knew they had plans to leave?”

  “Many thought him feeble, but I believe he had his wits about him and he knew more than he said.”

  “Do you know what relative inherited his land?” Royden asked.

  “I had no idea he even had a relative. I thought he was the last of his line.”

  “Too bad you didn’t give him a son. At least then you could have remained there.”

  “I didn’t want to remain there. It was never truly my home. I wanted to go home to my clan after Burnell died, but I was forbidden to return there. I was told the King had given it to someone else. All I had known—my family—it was all gone.”

  “You have me now,” Royden said as if it made all the difference.

  “And I am grateful,” Oria said more than he knew. “Were you ever able to find out who was responsible for all that happened here?”

  “No, but I have thoughts,” he said.

  “Tell me,” she urged, “for I have given it much thought myself.”

  “The leader of the mercenaries seems to be a powerful man, but to attack this area and particular clans had to relate to something—revenge perhaps.”

  “And he had to have knowledge of this area and the clans,” Oria added.

  “Or he had to have had help,” Royden said.

  “A thought I didn’t want to consider, but made sense,” Oria said, munching on a piece of meat.

  Royden was glad she was eating and glad they had found a shared interest to discuss. It also told him that she hadn’t accepted her fate as easily as he had thought she had. She had been questioning what had happened just as he had.

  “I don’t like to think that one of the clans had betrayed the others. But how this was carried out without little trouble tells me otherwise.”

  Oria looked over to the flames in the hearth.

  “What is it, Oria?” Royden asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Did you ever wonder if whoever attacked here that day knew in advance that most of the chieftains and lords would be attending our wedding?”

  “Are you suggesting our wedding was used as a trap?” he asked, never having considered it.

  “Don’t you think it too convenient that so many heads of clans were here that day?”

  “All but two,” Royden said. “Chieftain Thurbane of the Clan MacDonnegal and—”

  “My now deceased husband, Lord Learmonth.”

  They both grew silent at the implications at what that could mean.

  “Lord Learmonth sent his apologies for not being able to attend when invited. He explained he was not feeling well,” Royden said. “I need to find out why and who destroyed my family and the other clans around us.”

  “I’ve felt the same. This wasn’t a random attack or unwise decision on someone’s part. This took planning and a large contingent of warriors. Warriors who fought for what they could gain, not out of duty,” Oria said.

  He could see the eagerness in her green eyes for answers, her thirst to solve this as desperate as his own. This had left scars on them both and to heal, they had to solve this puzzle and they had to see that the person responsible paid for it.

  “You should come see Learmonth for yourself. Burnell’s relative isn’t expected there for a month or more,” she suggested. “It might do well for you to also visit Chieftain Thurbane and get to know Fergus better.”

  “I don’t trust him or Penn. They fought willingly for the leader of the mercenaries. Their allegiance was to him and I believe it still is. I don’t believe this mysterious leader is finished here. He’s planted his men wisely and when the time comes there is no telling what they will do.”

  “I must admit, I thought the same myself, but isn’t it better you keep your foe close, know what goes on with them and let them know only what you wish them to know about your plans?”

  She had a point and a good one since it was what he had done with Platt. He disliked the man greatly, but he had made sure to keep a good eye on him and engage with him now and again.

  “We’ll go to Learmonth when this weather dries out,” Royden ordered.

  “And we’ll plan a visit to the MacDonnegal clan. I’ll visit with Alynn while you talk with Fergus and Thurbane.”

  “I need to visit with Galvin as well.”

  “He’s turned bitter, Royden,” Oria said.

  “Haven’t we all. He lost his son and he doesn’t know what happened to his daughter, Purity. What’s left for his clan if anything happens to him? There is no one to carry on his name. He’ll be lost, no one ever knowing he existed. It’s not a legacy a man wishes to leave.”

  Their eyes met and held, each realizing the implications of his remark.

  “I will have the Clan MacKinnon name carried on,” he said.

  He was letting her know that there would come a time he would seek her bed.

  “I will let you know when you are welcome in my bed,” Oria said.

  Royden leaned forward in his chair. “You have a duty as my wife and we don’t need a bed to see the deed done.” His hand was quick to go up when she went to respond. “Tread wisely, wife, and remember a savage lives within me.”

  Fear prickled her skin. How would she ever find the strength to tame the savage?

  Chapter 7

  Oria waited on the top of the keep steps for her husband. It had taken three days between the weather and things that needed immediate attention before Royden was free to ride to Learmonth with her. They had engaged sparingly in conversation since they had spoken in the solar. She had kept busy, seeing to her duties. She had men busy repairing the table and chairs that had sat on the dais.
Repairs were also being made to the trestle tables and benches so once again the room would be filled with talk and laughter. And she was seeing what linens were available to once again have the MacKinnon family table well dressed.

  The sun was full in the sky though who knew how long that would last and with a chill in the air, she made certain to wear her wool cloak. She scanned the distance for any sign of her husband. She was eager for this time alone with him. She couldn’t learn more about his time away if they kept their distance. Besides, after their talk in the solar, she realized how much she had missed talking with him.

  One thing she had learned about her husband was that he didn’t allow having only one hand stop him from doing anything. He lifted, carried, managed to do what men with two hands did. He had learned well to compensate for his lost hand, not an easy task.

  “Ready?”

  Oria jumped startled that her husband was behind her.

  His hand shot out to grab her arm. “Be careful, you’re too close to the stairs. You don’t want to take a tumble.”

  She stared at him, for a moment, he sounded so much like the old Royden. The man who she never doubted, not for a minute, loved her with all his heart. And she ached for that man’s arms around her again.

  Her attention turned to the sound of horses and was a bit surprised to see Angus, John, and Stuart approach. She was disappointed. She had hoped to be alone with her husband, giving them time to talk in private.

  She looked from the men to her husband. “I’ve traveled alone back and forth between Learmonth and here many times without incident.”

  “Burnell may have allowed you that, I don’t,” he said and, with his hand firmly at her arm, guided her down the stairs to the horses.

  Oria had cherished the freedom Burnell had given her and Royden’s remark let her know how different it would be now that she was wed to him. He annoyed her even more when he kept hold of her and wouldn’t let her mount her mare on her own. His hand and his arm were at her waist before she could stop him and he swung her up onto her horse. She had always thought him a strong man, but there was a strength to him now that was much different than before.