Authors: Hannah Howell
“And I was an idiot not to see it. I have been an idiot in many ways.” He brushed a kiss over her lips and held her gaze with his as he idly stroked her lithe body and braced himself to speak from his heart. “The passion we shared was clear to me and I was greedy for it. I respected your stand, your determination to hold to vows given and a few hard rules, but resented it as weel. Yet, when ye finally came to my bed, I did not see, or didnae want to, the importance of that. To ye.”
“’Tis difficult to see what is nay revealed and nay spoken of.”
“Ye revealed it, lass, in every sigh, in every embrace. I but chose to keep calling it passion.” He touched a kiss to her forehead. “I decided quite a while ago that I must lack the capability of being in love, for I have ne’er been, that I am nay a loving mon.”
“Oh, nay, Payton.” She rubbed her hands up and down his arms when he moved to settle himself on top of her. “Ye are a verra loving mon. ’Tis there to see in how ye are with your family, to hear in how ye speak of them. ’Twas there to see in how ye not only championed the cause of the children, but in how ye treated them.”
“Then I refused to recognize it as such. I looked too closely, too hard, at every feeling, perhaps.” He shook his head. “It matters naught how I became misguided, just that I was, that I had convinced myself I wasnae destined to love a woman, or was incapable of it, so I put a different name to all I felt. I did that time and time again until I could nay longer delude myself.”
Kirstie felt herself tense, terrified she was misinterpreting his words, yet certain she was not. “What are ye saying, Payton?”
“I am saying that when the passion we shared proved to be the best, the fiercest, the most satisfying I have e’er kenned, I decided we were a perfect match in desire. Then, when Roderick took ye and I was near maddened with fear for ye, I decided I cared for ye. That was when I decided ye were mine and, as soon as ye were free, I would marry
ye.”
“Ye ne’er said a word.”
“Nay, for ye were still a married woman, by law and in your own mind.” He combed his fingers through her tangled hair. “Then, when ye came to ransom me, I finally saw it all clearly.” Payton raised his hand and idly studied the marks there, marks which would fade, but would undoubtedly leave behind a few scars. “When he struck ye, when he raised that knife, I kenned the truth. I was cold with fear for ye and gripped by a blinding rage that he would dare to hurt ye, to take ye from me. When I saw him start to swing that sword toward this pretty neck,” he kissed her throat, “I would have gladly maimed myself just to get free and stop it, or take the blow in your stead. I was watching ye die and it was killing me.”
Kirstie took his hand in hers and kissed the marks around his wrists, anxious to ease the torment that memory so clearly brought him. “Ye could do naught. Ye were wounded and tightly bound. And, my head still sits upon my shoulders. But I am so sorry that ye had to hurt your beautiful hands.”
Payton took her face between his hands. “Every time I see the scars, I will remember what ye mean to me. I will remember how desolate I felt at the thought that ye would be taken from me. I will remember that I nearly lost all chance to tell ye that I love ye.”
Despite suspecting what he would say, Kirstie’s doubts had remained strong enough to leave her stunned when he finally said the words she so longed to hear. She stared at him, unable to think of anything to say. When he kissed her, she clung tightly to him, fighting back tears of joy.
“Say it again,” she whispered, and felt him smile against her shoulder.
“I love ye, my dark beauty, my heart, my wife.” He smiled and kissed the corners of her eyes. “Thank ye for nay crying.”
She laughed softly. “Ye ken women too weel.”
“Nay, I kenned whores, adulteresses, women to whom it was all a game or a salve for their vanity. Aye, the women in my family are like ye, and I did learn from them—yet, I believe I forgot too much as I dallied amongst the courtesans and courtiers. Ye have reminded me of all I truly value in a woman, all that I truly hungered for.”
“Oh, my, ye give me a grand standard to live up to.”
He laughed. “Ye have already done so. And, as I vowed before that priest, there will be no others. I need no others and I will want none. I havenae since I first saw ye. Ye didnae believe me the first time I told ye that, but I pray ye will believe me now.”
“Aye. I think those fears began to fade when ye made your vows before that overfed priest. Ye are a mon who would hold to a vow, e’en one made whilst a sword was held to your back.” She exchanged a brief grin with him, the memory of their wedding now one full of amusement for her. “What do ye want from marriage, Payton?”
Payton frowned a little. “Weel, companionship.” He grimaced. “Nay verra romantic. I want someone I ken will be there with me, for me. Someone I dinnae have to play the courtier’s game for, whom I can be myself with, warts and all. I ken the passion will ease, will change in some ways o’er the years, so dinnae fear I think only on that. I want to ken that nay matter how much this shell of mine—this covering that so many think is so beautiful—nay matter how it softens, or wrinkles, or becomes scarred, it willnae matter to ye because ye dinnae love it, ye love me.”
“Oh, aye. E’en in the bonniest, much of that gift is one bestowed by youth. Age can change it, battle can steal it, disease can fade it. I ken all of this. I am nay such a fool as to love a shell, nay matter how bonnie it is, or how looking at ye can make my breath catch in my throat. After all, Roderick was a handsome mon, aye?”
“Aye, but too few others understand the need to look beyond that gloss. I ken ye see me as more than a bonnie mon who happens to please your eye. So did my heart.”
“So, ye want companionship.” She stroked his legs and felt him shift against her. “And passion.”
“And bairns. I would ne’er ask ye to bear more than ye want,” he hurried to add, “but, ah, lass, I do want bairns. Bonnie little lasses with storm-grey eyes and night-dark hair.”
“There is a verra strong chance that I will bear a lot of laddies,” she said.
“Aye, I ken it, but one wee lass would be nice, if God wills it.”
“Weel, we can judge his benevolence in, oh, about seven months, mayhap a wee bit more.”
Kirstie waited for the moment the import of her words finally settled in his mind. The sudden delight that bloomed upon his face was all she could have hoped for. Now that she knew he loved her, she felt only joy over his reaction to the news. Payton wanted and needed her. That made the child she carried a much-valued gift and not just another obligation.
Payton placed an unsteady hand upon her still-taut belly. “Are ye certain?”
“To be honest, I am still trying to believe it. I was told by Wee Alice only a short while ago when she helped attire me in that fine linen shift ye so quickly cast aside.” She blushed and looked away as she said, “I havenae bled since shortly after we first met and I should have. Twice, I believe.” Then she smiled at him. “And, Gillyanne says ’tis true.”
He held her tight, then kissed her. “Thank ye, lass. And, ye will be fine.”
She could sense the hint of fear beneath his somewhat foolish command. “Oh, aye, I will.” She stroked his cheek. “With such a champion by my side, how could I be anything else but verra fine indeed?”
“So, e’en though I am now your husband, your love, ye still see me as your champion?”
“Oh, aye. My love, my husband, and my champion. The champion of my heart. Always.”
Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of nineteen Zebra historical romances. Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.