The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

F rom the way Niamh stiffened, Alistair knew he’d asked the wrong question. Her face went tight, and her eyes darkened as she looked away from him. “That’s nae any o’ yer business.”

Alistair met her gaze. “I could say it is, because I’m tae be yer groom, but the reason I asked wasnae fer that. I asked because I’m nae great fan o’ marriage meself, and I wouldnae have agreed tae yer faither’s bargain had I nae been required tae by me clan.”

He could see the interest in her eyes, the way the surprise caused by his admission softened the edges of her anger. For a few moments, it seemed she would remain stubbornly silent. Then she looked at him. “Why dae ye hate marriage?”

Her eyes strayed to the ring he still wore at his throat, and Alistair’s gut clenched painfully. He wasn’t ready to talk about that. Not about his past, or his first love. He certainly didn’t want to tell her about the curse he’d been put under after his betrothed had been killed by the McTavish Clan.

He forced his expression to remain calm as he replied. “Och, I asked ye first. Ye tell me yer tale, and mayhap I’ll tell ye mine.”

Niamh jerked back as if he’d slapped her. All the curiosity and softness vanished from her gaze, and her back stiffened. “Ye’ve nay right tae be askin’ such questions, if ye dinnae intend tae answer them yerself.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, but she glared at him. “I’m still hungry.”

“As ye like.” He picked up her bowl and began to feed her again. She finished the stew and the rest of the bread, then shook her head. “I’ve had enough. I want tae sleep now.”

“Very well.” Alistair finished his own meal, then took the tray to the door to leave for the innkeeper’s staff.

A few minutes had the coals glowing cherry red and filling the room with warmth. Alistair pulled free a spare cloak to use as a blanket, then chose the softest of the packs he’d brought in to serve as a pillow. He’d just sat down to remove his boots when Niamh cleared her throat. He looked up. “Aye?”

“Are ye nae going tae untie me so I can sleep?” She held up her bound hands.

“Nay chance.” Alistair removed his boots, then crouched to help her take her shoes off, wary of a kick to the face as he did so. Then he stood. “That’s all I’m o’ a mind tae dae fer ye in that regard, unless ye need help removing yer belt or sash.”

“Ye cannae be serious! Ye wouldnae really leave me tae try and sleep with me hands tied, would ye?”

Alistair removed his shirt, then looked over at her. “Aye, I would.” He offered her a faint smile. “Ye’re a fair spirited lass with a lot o’ anger in ye, Niamh Cameron, and I’m of nay mind tae be murdered in me sleep by ye. At least with yer hands tied, there’s a chance I’ll wake up afore ye can finish me off.”

“Ye think I’d try tae murder ye in yer sleep?” She frowned at him.

“Aye, if you could manage it.”

For a moment, he thought she would rail at him, and rage at his words. Instead, a small, pleased smile graced her features, her first since that morning. “I suppose ye’ve learned some things about me, then. Ye certainly ken me better than me own faither might.”

He couldn’t fault her for the edge of bitterness in her words, and he wished he could tell her he regretted how things had transpired between them. But he didn’t regret it, not when her anger might keep her safe, and she was too angry to believe him even if he had been sincere in such sentiments.

Instead, he moved to the candle on the table. “Dae ye need aught else?” Niamh shook her head, weariness already dragging her eyelids down. Alistair blew out the candle, shut the window, and retired to his makeshift bed.

Despite his weariness, sleep was a long time in coming, as his thoughts chased themselves around his mind. Thoughts and questions, and one above all others – why was Niamh so afraid of marriage?

The thunder rumbled overhead, a snarling counterpart to the pain that tore through her as her body shuddered through contraction after contraction. She wailed in pain, begged for help. She called for her father, for a servant, for the midwife, but no one came. There was nothing, only the darkness and the pain and the howling rage of the storm outside.

The babe within her fought to be free, but she had no idea how to manage. No notion of what to do, and she could not even sit up. Her throat burned with her screams as she cried out again and again.

A cracking sound shook the barren room she lay in, the very stones around her dancing as if entranced. The noise was deafening, louder even than her screams. To her horror, she saw a crack form and race across the ceiling above her.

The roof was giving way. It hadn’t been repaired properly, if at all. The cracks widened and branched with each crash of thunder. She tried to move, her screams for help growing loud and frantic enough to tear her throat with their urgency. But no one came and she could not move.

Another deafening crack, and the ceiling gave way and fell toward her. Her last feeling, before she was buried under wood and stone was the tearing pain that might have been the birth of the babe.

Niamh came awake with a scream that hurt her throat, her chest heaving with sobs of anguish. “Nay, nay…”

Light flared, and she flinched back, but it was only Alistair lighting the candle from the brazier. Candle lit, he hurried to her side and scooped her close, enfolding her in the warmth of his arms.

At any other time, she might have been embarrassed, to be leaning against a man’s naked chest. Now, all she could do was huddle against him, sobbing as she curled into his warmth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dr-dr-dream. I was... alone. And I co-co-couldnae move. Couldnae get away. And... the storm…” Niamh just barely managed to choke the words out before her voice cracked and another sob wracked her frame.

“Och, sounds like a bad dream.” Alistair’s low voice was soothing. He hesitated a moment, then, to her surprise, undid the ropes. “I didnae mean tae give ye such a nightmare. If I’d kent it would upset ye so, I wouldnae have left ye bound.”

It wasn’t the binding that gave her nightmares, but she didn’t say so. Already her mind was calming at the realization that there was no lightning, no thunder, no storm. She wasn’t alone, nor giving birth. There was nothing to be afraid of.

She swallowed. “I dinnae want tae be alone.” Her throat ached.

“Ye’re nae. I’m right here, and I’ll nae be leaving ye fer the night.” The words were accompanied by a soft, soothing stroke of his large hand across her arm, then her back. Then his fingers carded through her hair. “Ye’re nae alone, and ye’re safe, and ye can run if ye want. Mind, I’ll catch ye, but ye’re safe and nae trapped.”

The words were calming, the tone strong and sure and supportive. The hands around her were warm and firm, their grip steady. Niamh relaxed against Alistair’s chest, soaking in his warmth and the sheer relief of not being abandoned. The terror drained out of her, leaving lassitude in its wake, and she felt her eyelids drooping.

“Niamh?” She heard him calling her name, but she was too weary to respond, already sinking back toward sleep. “Niamh?”

A pause, and then he shifted, and she felt him slide away from her. Anxiousness welled up inside her, and she clutched at his hand. “Dinnae leave.”

“I willnae.” She felt him move, laying her back on the bed and pulling the blankets up over her shoulders, but he never let go of her hand. Not even when she felt him sink to the ground, presumably returning to his makeshift bed.

There was someone there for her. She wasn’t alone in the dark.

Niamh sighed, and let sleep claim her.