“So many farms abandoned,” Tara said, as they approached a small croft that had long been deserted. It appeared as if Mother Nature had reclaimed the land and was about to do the same with the cottage.
“The kings demand too much from their people. And King Kenneth, who rules over them all, should be creating laws and enforcing them to protect his people. But he’s as busy as the kings taking more than he gives.”
“Times are troubling,” she said.
“More than anyone cares to admit.” Reeve lowered her carefully to the ground. “Stand here and don’t move while I remove the debris from around the front door.”
Tara followed his instructions, not wanting to prove a hindrance to him. He searched the area before starting, disappearing around the side of the cottage and reappearing only moments later. He held up a half-broken barrel and grinned as if he’d been given a gift.
She smiled herself when he began digging the snow away from the front door and snapping the tree branch that had grown through the lone, small window. He worked with such ease and confidence, like a man comfortable in any task he took on.
What she liked most was that he worked with a smile and no complaints. She had thought he might balk about the delay her ankle caused, but his concern was more for her comfort, and she was grateful.
He used his shoulder to get the door open, it proving a bit stubborn at first. But it was no match for his brawn. He vanished inside, and, with a limp, she approached slowly. She hadn’t gotten very far when he appeared in the open doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle. It must have time to heal.”
She was in his arms before she knew it and carried across the threshold. She was surprised to see a single bed with a limp mattress that needed stuffing, a table with one corner rotted away, and two chairs that had seen better days. And a fair-sized cauldron sat to the side of the cold hearth.
He placed her on the bed. “Those chairs don’t look sturdy; besides, I need to get a fire started. Then I’ll go hunt us something for supper.”
“I should help,” she said, feeling a burden on him.
He laughed, shook his head, and bounced down on his haunches to reach out and take hold of her leg.
He held her leg with a tender gentleness while his other hand attempted to work off her boot. It had gone quickly from her not wanting him to touch her to his touching in an intimate fashion. No man had ever caressed the calf of her leg.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This may hurt.”
That he offered an apology astounded her. He was proving to be different than she had first imagined him. When he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, she had grown even more frightened than she had been. She thought he might join the robbers and then, when she had realized he intended to defend her, she had been stunned. And in the few short hours since they had met, she realized he was no common Highlander warrior. Nor was he easy to define.
She had watched him dispose of four men as if they were nothing more than annoying gnats, and he had not a bead of sweat on him when he had finished, nor had his breathing been labored.
He smiled more often than most Highlander warriors that she had known, and he was fearsome when it came to strength and kind when it came to gentleness.
She winced as he eased the boot down over her injured ankle.
“Take your stocking off,” he ordered.
“Why?” she demanded.
His grin turned his face wickedly handsome. “If we pack snow around the ankle, it may take the swelling down.”
She should have realized that herself. Instead, she appeared the fool, he obviously thinking that she thought he was thinking something entirely different and inappropriate.
“You’re right,” she said.
“I’m always right.” He bounced to his feet. “I’ll get the snow while you remove your stocking.”
He was even mannerly enough to give her privacy. And she saw to removing her stocking before he returned. He dumped the handful of snow into the broken barrel piece and placed it on the floor by the bed. He lifted her beneath her arms and braced her back against the wall, then stretched out her legs on the bed. He positioned the snow-filled barrel piece beneath her injured ankle and piled the snow over it.
“Now you’re all set. I’ll get the fire going and then be off to get us supper.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“No need. You’re paying me well to see to your safety.”
“Safety yes, kindness is another thing.”
“A man protects a woman,” he said with a shrug. “It is the way of things.”
It might be for him, but it hadn’t been for her. Watching him set a fire and seeing that he took the time to gather pine branches and pack them in the window to keep the cold away was a sight she favored. She had seen to taking care of things for herself for so long that it was difficult to believe that someone was now looking after her.
If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.
“Lord,” she whispered, “please let this work. Let me slip away. Let them think me dead. Let me finally be free.”
When she had told the Highlander she would give him all of her bride price, the plan had barely formed in her head. Her first thought had been to buy his protection and see her safely to her intended destination. After all, what else was there for her? When suddenly the thought of freedom gripped her, and her mind was made up before she even attempted to make sense of such an insane idea.
Once it had taken root, it had flourished, and she knew she would pursue it. She felt no guilt in using her bride price; after all, her father was paying to be rid of her, so he would get what he wanted.
The cold had seeped into her ankle and was now traveling up her leg. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her upper body and rested her head back, closing her eyes. She was tired and would take a few moments to sneak a brief nap. Then when she woke, perhaps she could help Reeve. She snuggled her chilled chin into the fur lining of her cloak and was asleep in no time.
Reeve had the rabbit cleaned and ready for the spit before he reached the cottage. All he had to do was set it to cook in the fireplace. He had even managed to find some onions and turnips in what once had been the cottage garden. Though frozen, he could set them to cook in the cauldron. He bowed his head into the wind, which had picked up, the air having grown colder with the approach of dusk.
He hurried into the cottage, shutting the door against the rush of cold that followed him. He turned to proudly show off his successful hunt and saw that Tara was sound asleep. He rid himself of his plaid and skewered the rabbit on the spit in the fireplace to cook. He made quick work cleaning the dusty cauldron with snow and then adding fresh snow and setting it on the hook in the hearth. He chopped the onions and turnips and added them to the melting snow. When he was finally done, he walked over to Tara.
He reached out and took hold of one of her curls, the ringlet wrapping around his finger. It was soft, silky, and shiny, the color as dark as raven feathers. He took hold of others, and they curled around his finger as eagerly as the first.
Tara stirred with a faint sigh. He wondered over this woman he had just met yesterday. He knew little about her, and yet she intrigued him. She had made certain at first to keep her distance from him, but he knew that wouldn’t, actually couldn’t, last long. With the snow and the cold, it was inevitable they would be drawn together whether to provide heat to each other or a helping hand as she had needed today.
She had called out to him, and when he had turned with barely enough time to grab hold of her hand, before she went over the edge, he had felt a jolt to his gut. He thought for a moment she’d slip from his grasp, but she stretched out her fingers to him as he did to her, and they grabbed hold of each other and clung tightly, not wanting or willing to let go.
He wondered who waited for her and if her intended would care that she would never arrive. Or would it be her bride price that he missed? Marriages were made more often for the convenience and benefit of the clans. Love was rarely involved, but his parents’ marriage had shown him the difference, and he knew that he would settle for nothing less.
Tara hadn’t had that choice. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape a marriage that wasn’t of her choosing. But he couldn’t help but wonder who would ever agree to wed a woman considered a death bride?
It made no sense.
Her eyes suddenly popped open, and she glared at him standing there, a few of her dark ringlets curled around his fingers. They said nothing, just stared, until Reeve moved, trying to rid his fingers of the possessive curls.
They refused to let go, curling around his fingers again and again each time he tried to tear them away. He was surprised to hear her chuckle.
“They are obstinate like me,” she said.
“And soft like you.” He turned and walked away, the curls reluctantly releasing him. He smiled, wondering if she would chastise him or graciously accept the compliment.
“Something smells good,” she said.
From the hint of joy in her voice, it seemed to have pleased her, and that pleased him.
“A rabbit is roasting and onions and turnips are boiling.”
“I wish I could be of more help. I am not accustomed to being idle,” she said.
That had him returning and taking a look at her ankle. “The swelling has gone down some. We should pack more ice on it.” He glanced at her. “Up to suffering another chill?”
“Just hearing the meat sizzle in the hearth is warming me already.”
“One more dose of snow will be enough for the night, and then we’ll see how your ankle is in the morning.”
“I’ll be fine to continue our journey,” she insisted.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“It’s not your ankle,” she said.
“But I make more sensible decisions when it comes to your injury.”
Her smile surprised him. He thought for sure she’d argue; most women could be obstinate that way.
“And you’re always right.”
“You learn fast,” he teased.
“That I do.”
The bit of sharpness in her response had him realizing it was a warning, and he grinned. “I will remember that.”
The wind howled around the cottage, rattling the thick pine branches that served as shutters. The chilly draft sent the flames in the fireplace dancing wildly and had Tara relieved that no more snow covered her ankle. Her stocking was back on, and she was wrapped snugly in her fur-lined cloak.
Reeve, however, only had his extra wool plaid to cover him, and he shivered beside her in bed. She had almost objected when he had announced that they would share the single bed, and though it wasn’t narrow, the size left little room for space between them. But with all he had done for her, she couldn’t see him spending the night on the cold earthen floor.
The way he was shivering, though, you would think that was where he was, and it bothered her. He had looked after her, and she lay selfishly beside him, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak while he froze.
While the curse remained a threat, she neither loved him nor was to wed him. They barely knew each other. And with Reeve suffering no dire repercussions thus far, it certainly should be safe enough to share some heat with him for the night, just as they had the night before, though that was by accident.
He’d freeze to death by the time she debated the matter and so before she could change her mind, she said, “You are freezing, share the warmth of my cloak with me.” And she opened it for him to slip close.
He didn’t hesitate though he shared much more than merely the warmth of her cloak. His arm went around her waist, and he snuggled against her, his leg going to rest between her legs in the crevice of her red velvet dress. He settled his face next to hers, and she startled from the touch of his icy cheek.
“Good Lord, you are ice-cold,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him.
They were soon cuddled like lovers who couldn’t get close enough to each other. She rubbed his back until she could feel the warmth returning to his flesh. And though she had taken a chance inviting him near, she knew she was safe.
He would honor his word not to touch her intimately.
The long day, the cold, a full stomach, and finally warmth soon had his eyes closing, and soon after he began snoring lightly. While odd to be in a bed with a stranger, Tara found it more pleasing than not. Having not been touched, even a simple friendly touch, in so long made her cherish and want to linger in this moment.
The smell of pine and ash and woods drifted off him, along with a hint of a well-cooked rabbit. She smiled, having missed the scent of a man and not realizing just how much until now. Or had it simply hurt too much to remember and so she had shut the memories away never to visit them again.
But now she had no choice. Reeve was here beside her, and his close presence caused an explosion of memories, including desire. It had been some time since she felt desire for a man. Reeve had sparked it, to her surprise, and now lying here beside him, she worried that he might just ignite it.