The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

A few days after the interlude at the stream, they crossed into the borders of the lands held by Alistair’s clan. He would have willingly pressed on to the castle, but the wind was blowing up signs of a storm, and Niamh was already weary and shivering in his arms. A glance at the lowering clouds and her pale face was enough to convince him that they were better served finding an inn for the night.

Being so far from the borders, and so long past the Autumn Festival, he had no trouble finding an inn with two rooms for them to take for the evening. For six coppers each, it included stabling for the horses and a dinner of thick, hearty stew, fresh bread, and harvest vegetables to eat. Alistair paid it and heaved a sigh of relief to be in out of the worsening weather.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Both of them were tired from long days on the road, and the rain that started falling less than a candle-mark after they arrived seemed to put Niamh in a melancholy mood. Alistair finished first, but waited until Niamh had eaten her share before he escorted her up to her room.

“Good night, Niamh.”

“Good night, Alistair.” Her reply was soft, her eyes already heavy-lidded as if she was half-asleep. Alistair watched until she entered the room and closed the door, then went to his own room just across the hall. Inside, he removed his boots and belt, then settled on the bed. The mattress was thin, though wider than others he’d seen, and the pillow was mostly flat as well, but the blanket was thick and warm, and the banked coals in the tiny brazier made the room comfortable enough. Alistair stretched out with a sigh, but sleep was elusive.

Tomorrow, they’d arrive at Castle MacDuff. He’d already sent word ahead that he’d be returning with a potential bride, and the clan would demand a wedding as soon as possible, with good reason.

He could only hope that there hadn’t been severe attacks in his absence. He had noticed something in the tavern that has worried him. Festival times were supposed to be times of unofficial peace, but one could never tell what a devious man like Fergus MacTavish would do.

With all the concerns passing through his mind, sleep was a long time coming, even with his weariness. Alistair was just starting to drift off when a piercing scream rang out, coming from Niamh’s room. In a flash, he was out of bed and racing across the hall. “Niamh!”

As expected, she was in the grip of yet another nightmare, whimpering and thrashing in her sleep. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, whispering soothing words into her ears. “Calm down lass. I’m here. Ye’re safe. Naught is goin tae happen tae ye.”

With a gasp, Niamh woke. Her hands clung to his shirt as she shuddered, then burst into tears. Alistair continued to hold her. “Easy there, Niamh. Ye’ve naught tae worry about, and naught tae fear. There’s naething here tae harm ye.”

For several minutes, Niamh did nothing save sob into his shirt while Alistair comforted her. Gradually, the crying faded, until eventually she was leaning against him quietly. Alistair soothed her a few minutes more, then urged her to sit up so he could get her a drink of water from a pitcher on the room’s small table. “That seemed like a fair bad dream ye were having.”

“’Twas.” Niamh’s face was pale as she sipped the water. “I dreamed I was alone, in the midst o’ a great storm. I was with child, and the babe was coming, but nay one would come tae help me. Nay one. And then the wind blew the window shutters off, and the storm blew in like the Wild Hunt unleashed. I felt like I was drowning, or being whipped by the winds, and I cried out, but nay one came. Nay one tae shut the window and protect me from the storm, nor tae help me with the bairn strainin’ tae leave me belly. I was so afraid, and so alone, and I couldnae be sure which would kill me first – the cold, the rain, or the birthin’ o’ the bairn.”

Alistair’s heart clenched in sympathy. He’d never had a dream like that, but he had suffered nightmares about dying alone on the battlefield on occasion. They’d been especially vivid just after the death of his former betrothed – he’d dreamed for nights on end of being alone on the side of the road, or out on the moors, bleeding out from his wounds while he tried desperately to call for help.

“’Tis why I hate the idea o’ marriage.” The soft words made him blink.

“What dae ye mean?”

Niamh gave him a weary, frightened look. “’Tis nae marriage I hate. ‘Tis what marriage means – wifely duties and producing bairns. Me maither died in childbirth, ye ken. I’m afeared the same will happen tae me. The idea o’ carryin’ a child, let alone givin’ birth tae it, terrifies me. And I’ve always kent that any man I married would be expectin’ me tae bear him children. I couldnae face that.”

That explained a great deal and it made Alistair feel like an utter brute for having agreed to try and trick her into wedlock, let alone having dragged her the breadth of the Lowlands to become his bride.

“Yer turn.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Me turn?”

“Aye. Ye said if I told ye why I hate marriage, then ye’d tell me why ye’re against it as well. I’ve told ye, now ye tell me.”

He didn’t want to tell her anything, but he did owe her some explanation. However, he was reluctant to explain the curse to her. Instead, he settled for an answer he hoped she would understand. He pulled the ring he wore from his shirt. “Ye asked about this once before. ‘Twas the ring I gave tae the lass I planned tae wed, nae too long ago.”

“Another forced marriage?”

Alistair shook his head. “Naething o’ the sort. I loved her true. But she was killed by the laird o’ a rival clan, and ‘twas then I realized that bein’ kith and kin tae a laird is a dangerous thing. And I kent I’d rather be alone than face puttin’ anyone in such danger, if it could be avoided.”

“What o’ yer kinfolk?”

“I shield them as best I can and keep them safe as well as I can. But it isnae perfect, and I hate the idea that someone might die fer me. That’s why I never wanted tae pursue another marriage.”

She’d guessed there was a story behind the ring he wore on the cord about his neck. She’d never guessed it was such a painful one. Still, it made sense – why he would say he was reluctant to wed her, and why he’d acted like a beast. He must have been afraid his enemies would see them together and try to use her against him. Or worse, come after her life.

He’d probably been acting cold to make any of his foes who saw them assume he didn’t care for her. It didn’t make his behavior any less beastly, but the thought that he might have been acting that way for her protection did dull her anger a little.

“And now? What o’ me?”

Alistair offered her a gentle smile. “I wasnae sure about marryin’ but I promise that I’ll keep ye safe.” He reached up and undid the cord. Then, to her surprise, he slid the ring onto her finger. “Here. A pledge that I’ll defend ye from everything possible, whether ‘tis me enemies or yer fears, or the storms in the sky. Whatever ‘tis that threatens, I’ll be there tae protect ye.”

She blinked, tears stinging her eyes at his unexpected generosity. “But this ring…”

“’Twas made fer the woman who was tae be me wife. ‘Tis fitting ye wear it now.” Alistair caressed her face in a gentle gesture, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “If ye’re feeling better, ‘tis best ye try tae get some sleep. We’ll be getting tae Castle MacDuff taemorrow, and ye’ll want all yer wits about ye.”

“Aye.” She saw Alistair move to stand and wrapped her hand around his arm. “Stay with me?”

“If ye wish.” He started to move to the floor, and Niamh gathered her courage.

“I dinnae mean sleepin’ on the floor. I mean…” Her cheeks heated, but she finished her sentence. “I mean fer ye tae sleep beside me.”

“Ye mean that ye want me tae share yer bed?”

Niamh’s blush deepened. “Just fer sleeping. Fer comfort. I sleep better when ye’re next tae me.”

It was hard to admit that, especially when she’d been reviling him with every breath only a fortnight ago. She was prepared for Alistair to make some comment to that effect, but instead he only nudged her gently. “Slide over then, unless ye want me tae tak’ the side close tae the wall.”

“Nay.” She liked the idea of having him between her and the rest of the world. His warmth always made her feel as if she had a solid, living shield between herself and any danger that might threaten. She scooted back to the wall.

Alistair slid into bed beside her, setting his sword belt within easy reach. She hadn’t even realized he was carrying it, but she was glad to see the proof that he took her safety seriously. She watched as he shifted around to lie on his side, facing her. “Lie down and close yer eyes.”

Niamh did as he said, settling into her favorite position on her side, facing the wall. After a moment, an arm slid around her waist and cradled her close to a warm chest. “There. If the nightmares come fer ye again, then ye’ll ken I’m here tae defend ye.”

“Aye.” Niamh swallowed hard, butterflies in her stomach, and skin tingling for no reason she could fathom. She felt almost too warm, and yet, not at all inclined to move from the shelter of Alistair’s arm. She closed her eyes and urged herself to relax.

With her eyes closed, she was acutely aware of Alistair’s arm around her waist, and the gentle thump of his heartbeat in her ears. The soft warmth of his breath wafted across the top of her head, where he had her head tucked under his chin.

It should have felt unnerving, even frightening. Instead, Niamh felt safe, safer by far than his presence on the floor by her bed had made her feel. The slowness of his breathing calmed her own, and within minutes, Niamh slipped into slumber once more.