Highlander's Captive (7 page)

She tapped her chest. “I want a choice. I want to love the man I wed.”

“And hopefully you shall.” He stood and held his hand out to her. “We need to be on our way.”

“Where do we go?” She took hold of his hand, and he helped her to her feet.

“We are heading for your brother’s land, though a different route than my horse has taken. Once my horse arrives there, they will know something is wrong and come look for us. Hopefully, we will run into them along the way. The problem is that Owen will either backtrack once he realizes he tracks a riderless horse or he will continue to blindly follow the tracks, in which case we will cross paths somewhere along the way. Either way we are bound to run into one another at some point.”

“There isn’t any way we can avoid him?”

“There is but it would mean going in a completely different direction. Your brother would no doubt worry when he couldn’t find us, but—”

“Owen would not be able to find us either and would tire of his search and give up.”

“There would be a very good chance of that.”

“But what if Owen went to Cree and convinced him my reputation was shattered and that he would wed me regardless?” Wintra cringed and shivered simultaneously.

“Cree would never believe that of me, though I imagine he would believe it of Owen. Then the fool would be in for a whole lot of suffering. Besides, Cree would never decide anything until he has spoken with you.”

“Where would we go?” she asked, the idea tempting, but then so was Torr and that could prove a problem.

“There is a vacated croft that would suit our purpose about two or three days from here. No one would think to look there since it is off any well-traveled paths. It is completely isolated.”

The two of them completely isolated for a few weeks, possibly a month? The thought sent the tingles racing through her. This was not a wise idea. She should go straight home to her brother even though there was a chance they would run into Owen. If she stayed alone with Torr, there was no telling what would happen. One thing was sure though, she would be doing a lot of praying. No. She needed to be wiser this time. She needed to get home as fast as possible and see this problem settled.

She looked to Torr and her response was much different than she intended. “Take me to the croft.”

By the morning of the third day, Wintra was certain she was completely and utterly insane. She had no idea what had made her tell Torr to take her to the croft when her mind had been settled on going home to Cree. No matter how she dissected her decision, she could not come up with a sensible answer. Though when she had laid nestled in Torr’s arms the last couple of nights in front of the fire he had built to help keep them warm, she knew it was where she wanted to be. The strength of his arms wrapped so securely around her, and the way he had tightly tucked his fur-lined cloak around them both had made her feel safe and…

There was something else about being in his arms that she couldn’t quite grasp. It was as if she looked forward to him holding her, being close to him and wondering—Lord help her—she wondered if he would ever kiss her again. Not to mention that her body forever tingled when near him.

“Wintra!” His arm went around her waist, jolting her to a stop.

It took her a moment to focus and when she did, her mouth dropped open. She had been about to walk into a tree. She sighed. Getting lost in her thoughts was not helping her. Of course neither was trudging through the snow and woods for almost three days now.

He turned her around and as soon as he did, she rested her head against his chest. His hand went to cup her neck and he lowered his chin on the top of her head to nestle in her wild curls.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked.

I am now
, she thought. What was it about this man that had managed to turn her life completely upside down in a matter of days?

“Wintra?” he asked again anxiously.

“Exhausted, cold, and lost in thought as usual,” she said with a light chuckle.

“Another few hours and we will be there.”

Hours?
Could she walk several more hours? It would mean finally being out of the cold and snuggling in a bed with Torr tonight. The thought was enough to give her strength, but also send a tingle through her. And begged to ask the question—what was she getting herself into?

“Then we should keep at it,” she said, eager, yet anxious.

Torr reluctantly stepped away from her. He did not want to. He had found he liked having her in his arms. She felt good there, tucked snug against him.

He reached for her hand, taking firm hold of it. “I’m going to hold on to you so that you don’t run into any more trees.”

Wintra smiled. “I need to stay focused.”

“It would be a good idea,” he said as he tugged her hand so that she moved closer alongside him as they walked. “What keeps you deep in your thoughts?”

She was surprised by his question. No one had ever asked her that. They simply assumed that she drifted off without rhythm or reason. That was far from the truth, and for the first time she was able to admit aloud, “Loneliness.”

Torr turned, surprised at her response. “You had an abbey full of nuns to talk with, and what of travelers who stopped?”

“I was not allowed to speak to any of the travelers unless approved by the nuns. And the nuns lead a very restrictive life. Chores, prayers, and caring for those who sought refuge at the abbey take up most of their day. I learned fast enough that my inquisitive nature would not be tolerated. So I had no choice but to seek my own thoughts.”

“You can speak to me about anything, any time” Torr said unable to imagine having no one to talk with. There had always been someone to speak with, family or friends. He had never felt lonely. Actually, there had been moments when he wished he had time alone.

“You may regret offering that,” Wintra said with a laugh. “You never know what I might talk about.”

“As I said, anything, any time.”

Would she truly be able to speak with him about anything? The idea was tempting, very tempting. She would have started there and then, curious to learn more about him, but the effort it took to trudge through the snow made it difficult to keep a steady conversation going.

They soon settled into a comfortable silence, and it wasn’t until hours later that they reached the croft. Wintra was never so happy to look down from a slight rise to the cottage below. It appeared a sound structure, the door firmly in place and the shutters as well. It reminded her of the croft where she had been born and had spent the first nine years of her life. Years she would forever cherish in her heart and memory, for it was then she had been the happiest.

Torr released her hand once they reached the cottage door to clear away the several inches of snow in front. Then he opened it and stuck his head in first before turning, stepping back, and allowing her to enter.

The only light came from the open door and the late afternoon shadows were already beginning to claim that.

“There is wood by the fireplace,” she said spotting logs in a basket.

“And a good size bundle out here.” Torr brushed off snow from a wood stack by the door. “I will get a fire started with the dry wood, and then bring some logs in to dry.”

While he set to work, Wintra opened the shutters on the lone window so that they would have more light, and she could have a better look at the place. There was a small table and two chairs against one wall, a couple of buckets sat empty beside the fireplace, and some baskets lay scattered about. A roughhewn bed with a mattress that needed fresh stuffing was pushed against another wall. It appeared as if the occupants had taken most essentials with them.

Once Torr had the fire going, Wintra pulled the shutters closed, securing the latch that kept them locked. Torr then got to work on bringing in a sufficient bundle of wood and stacked it to the side of the fireplace.

Wintra stood by the table out of his way, not sure what to do or if there was anything she could do. She glanced around and realized what close quarters they would be in, and she quickly asked, “How long?”

“The place will be heated in no time.”

“No. How long before we can leave here?”

“Three to four weeks should do it. Owen will probably have gone to your brother by then and, no doubt, will have started digging his own grave.” He watched her pull her cloak more tightly around her, as if attempting to shield herself. Something more had gone on when Owen had been alone with her, and he intended to find out just what it was. “We will know each other well by the time we leave here,” he said.

“How well?” she asked.

He walked over to her and took her hand in his. “That is up to you, Princess. Now go warm yourself by the fire. Your hands are still ice cold.”

How could a simple touch quiver her body and turn her speechless? She mindlessly nodded her head and did as told.

He walked to the door and stopped before opening it. “I am going to see if I can find us some supper.”

Wintra found herself staring at the door after he closed it behind him. Why had she agreed to come here with him? Why had she not taken the chance and gone directly home? She was beginning to think that this situation she was in—alone here with Torr—was far more dangerous than crossing paths with Owen and his men.

And she did not want to think of what he meant when he said it was up to her. What was up to her? If she wanted him to kiss her again, would he? If she wanted him to touch her naked flesh, would he? And why was she having such wicked thoughts?

She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about him.

Pure thoughts. Pure thoughts.
She reminded herself just as the nuns so often had reminded her.

She decided that the best thing to do was busy herself. When she kept herself busy, her thoughts did not drift—at least not too much—and for a while she was free of the constant musings that filled her head. She slipped out of her cloak, hanging it on one of the three pegs in the wall next to the door. She set about gathering the scattered baskets and seeing if any were useable and arranged those near the door. And soon she was busy with work and for a while, a quiet mind.

Torr’s mind would not still and he laughed to himself, thinking that Wintra’s deep thoughts were contagious. But any humor quickly faded when his thoughts lingered on his decision to bring her here. He could not say it was truly necessary, but he felt it was a wise choice, and only time would tell if he was right. He was not sure what would happen here between them, but it would give them time to get to know each other, and he felt that was important.

He stomped his feet to rid his boots and leg coverings of snow, then opened the door to the cottage and entered. Once inside, the door closed, he gave two glances around the room while sniffing the air, surprised to see short, portly candles sitting about the room.

“I cleaned some and found several candles, someone thought beyond use, disposed of in a basket,” Wintra said, standing near the hearth. “And what you smell is a pleasant brew.”

He titled his head in question.

“I had stitched some bundles of my favorite dried herbs in my cloak, and when I found a usable crock I cleaned it, filled it with clean snow, and set it in the hearth. When the snow melted and the water was hot, I added a bundle of herbs so that we would at least have a nice brew to keep us warm.”

Torr smiled and held up a sizeable fish. “And I have us a meal.” He went to put it on the table, she had moved in front of the fireplace, to clean when she gave a shout.

“No!” She scrunched her nose. “I just scrubbed that with snow. Please, clean it on the hearth stone.”

“Fussy where a fish is cleaned?” he asked, but did as she requested after hanging his cloak on the peg beside hers.

“Blame it on the nuns. To keep me busy, they had me scrubbing everything over and over and now I find it a habit to keep things cleaner than most others.”

Torr noticed the pleasant aroma wasn’t only coming from the brew. When she walked past him, to give him room by the hearth, a sweet scent drifted off her. He also noticed her face appeared freshly scrubbed, her cheeks rosy, and her hair a bit more tamed than usual. And damn if she didn’t look more beautiful than ever.

When he finished cleaning the fish and setting it to cook in the hearth, he took the remains outside to dispose of and to scrub his hands with snow, wishing they smelled a bit more pleasant.

He got his wish when he returned inside.

“I’ve kept a bucket of sweet-scented water warm for you to wash up if you would like,” she said, pointing to a bucket on the table.

Stubborn, reasonable, and now thoughtful, she had a diverse nature, and he liked that.

He scrubbed his hands good and rinsed his face, surprised by how nice he smelled when he finished. After he emptied the bucket outside, he joined Wintra at the table where she had taken a seat.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, and then Torr decided to ask the question that had been playing havoc with his thoughts, though not before he reached out and placed his hand over hers. “What exactly happened with you and Owen in the cottage?”

His touch offered comfort, his voice concern, but she was not ready to share the details of her encounter with Owen just yet. Besides, she did not want to think about it right now, and she found it easy to tell him that. “I would rather not discuss that now.”

“But you will tell me?”

Would she or would she be too embarrassed? She almost laughed. How more embarrassed could she be after having been naked in front of him? Still, though, she feared she would need an extra ounce of courage to discuss it with him.

“You hesitate to answer. Why?”

“It will not be an easy thing for me to discuss with you.”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “There isn’t anything you cannot discuss with me, Wintra. I want you to remember that. Come to me with anything, now and always.”

Always.
But there would not be an always between them and oddly that left her with a sad ache in her heart.

He slipped his hand off hers, and a chill ran through her. She liked his touch, simple or intimate, it didn’t matter. It always felt so wonderful, magical, unbelievable.

Don’t fall prey to a man’s touch and false promises. Put your trust only in your husband.

The nuns’ warning struck her like a cold splash of water in the face. Was she to believe that Torr spoke falsely to her just as Owen had? Was she not to trust any man? And how did she only trust the man who would be her husband when she would not know him at all?

“I know that look. You are sinking deep into thought.”

The question came too quickly to her lips for her to stop it. “Can any man be trusted?” She was surprised and curious that he laughed.

“That is a question pondered by many.”

“Then how do you trust?” she asked perplexed.

“You trust yourself first and you take a chance.”

“Your answer confuses more than explains.”

“Do you trust yourself, your instincts, your thoughts?” he asked.

She thought a moment, then shook her head. “I never gave it thought.”

“Did you trust Owen?”

She opened her mouth to answer and stopped, thinking the question over. There had been remarks he had made that had annoyed her and made her wonder about his true nature. And she shared her revelation with Torr. “Now that I think about it, I would say no, I did not trust him. I suppose I failed to pay attention to my own instincts.”

“Most of us do from time to time, though we either learn or continue to remain ignorant to our own trust. And then, of course, there are times we allow passion to overrule all else.”

Wintra could not help but think of the poor woman who had died in childbirth at the abbey. She had trusted a man or had it been love she trusted and believed in and in the end it had failed her. She had died along with her baby, unloved.

She was quick to ask, “What of love? Does it not require trust?”

“Above all else love requires trust.”

“But what if love fails you? Is it truly trust that fails or your instinct gone wrong or misplaced passion?” She shook her head. “None of it makes sense.”

“I think most would agree with you when it comes to love.”

“Then how does anyone know when they are truly in love?”