Highlander's Captive (8 page)

“It would be a good question to ask your brother. You can see the love in his eyes that he has for Dawn and the same goes for her. And Cree is not an easy man to love and—”

“Cree is easy to love,” Wintra insisted in defense of her brother. Even though she was still angry with him for sticking her in the abbey, she still loved him and always would. “He is the most wonderful brother and many may fear him, and well they should for he is a fierce warrior, but I am the only one who truly knows his nature.”

“I would say that my sister knows him better than you, for she—”

“She cannot know him as well as I do,” Wintra argued. “Besides how can she know him so well if she cannot even talk with him?”

“When you meet her you will understand, and when you see Cree and her together you will see love at its strongest.” He gave a glance at the fish. “It appears our supper may be ready.” He stood to go check on the fish.

Wintra found herself annoyed. No one could know her brother better than she did. She and Cree had always been close—or was that no more? Had these years that separated them changed everything? Or was it that he found someone to love and his sister did not matter to him anymore? The thought made her heart hurt. Cree was all the family she had; she could not lose him.

The thought came swift like an arrow to her heart. He could wed her off to someone and send her away, and she would never see him again. Would he do that? He had deposited her in the abbey, and she had not believed he would. No amount of him insisting that it was for the best, for her protection, had made a difference. She had cried for days and she had cried each time he had come to visit her and would leave her there yet again.

Would she return to him only to have him send her away again?

Another thought hit just as hard.
Trust.
She had always trusted Cree. Never had she feared him or doubted his word. He had never given her any reason to, so why would she question that he would now? He loved her and that would never change.
Trust.
She trusted Cree and she would not let anything damage that trust, not even her anger.

Conversation was limited as they ate since both were hungry and the fish delicious. When they finished and everything cleared away, Wintra rinsed her hands in the warm bucket of water she had kept for herself and offered Torr use of it, which he accepted. He liked the subtle sweet scent that lingered around her, and not quite so much the fish scent that stuck to his hands.

Exhaustion was quickly claiming Wintra, her yawns coming ever more frequently, and the bed looking ever more inviting.

It was Torr who suggested, “Time we get some sleep.”

“I could not agree more. My bones are even tired.”

“Then it is a good night’s sleep you need.”

Wintra wasn’t thinking of anything but sleep. She ached all over and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and snuggle against Torr to stay warm. The thought sent a quick spark shooting through her, though it faded just as quickly. She was simply too tired to think of anything but sleep.

Torr watched her walk over to the bed, prepared with their blankets. He expected her to drop into bed, her weary eyes closing as soon as her head touched the lumpy mattress. So he was surprised when she stopped beside the bed and started wiggling oddly. It took a moment for him to realize that she was attempting to get out of her torn dress beneath her shift.

He recalled then how he had had to rip it to get it off her. Then he recalled the feel of her naked body and how her skin was as soft as the finest wool. He thought to go help her, but he feared if he started touching her, he wouldn’t stop. It was when she struggled to free her one arm that got stuck in the sleeve that he could not just sit there any longer. He went to help her.

“It is stuck too deep, too tight,” she said on a sigh.

Where he would love to be—stuck too deep, too tight—inside her. He had to shake the thought away and concentrate on helping her and getting her to bed, though he did not intend on joining her. It would be much too dangerous for him to slip in bed with her now. He was already hard just from the images dancing in his head. He did not need to add to his torment.

He gently got her arm free and stepped away from her leaving her to finish the task, though when the torn garment pooled at her feet he grew that much harder and had to turn away from her.

“Would you put this on the chair for me?” she asked.

He only half turned and took it from her and took extra time in draping the garment over the chair.

“Hurry to bed, or I will get cold,” she said as she slipped between the blankets.

He could not turn around. He could not let himself. If he did, he might not be able to restrain himself. “In a minute,” he called out.

“Hurry, I need you,” she said in a drowsy voice.

Torr did not answer, her remark much too tempting. He knew that she would soon be asleep and only when she was deep in sleep would he join her. And even then he feared it would be too difficult to keep his hands off her.

He shook his head. He could not touch her. He could not.

Not unless she wanted him to.

Wintra woke the next morning with a bit of a chill. She did not have to open her eyes to know she was alone in bed. She had woken once in the middle of the night to find herself wrapped snugly in Torr’s powerful arms. She had nestled her cheek against his warm, solid chest and had gone back to sleep, feeling safer than she had in a while.

She opened her eyes as she stretched her arms above her head, expecting to see Torr somewhere in the one-room cottage, but she was not just alone in bed, but the cottage as well. She sat up and looked around again, the fire had been stoked, the room remaining toasty warm, and his cloak was gone.

Food.
No doubt he went to find them food.

She swung her feet off the bed and pulled on her boots and wrapping one of the blankets firmly around her, she walked over near the hearth. She shook her head at the sudden thought that she missed the abbey. She had wanted to leave that place since the day Cree had left her there and here she was wishing she was back there, at least for breakfast. Hot porridge sounded good right now.

She scooped her torn dress off the chair and sat. Today she would repair the garment as best she could. The nuns had told her to travel light that her brother would have all she needed when she arrived home. But she had wanted to take certain things with her and having known the nuns would chide her if she appeared weighted down with bundles, she had sewn a few things into the hem of her cloak. Her favorite herbs being one and her stitching needles being another.

Her wool dress was soft to the touch and, though the drab gray color reminded her of the nuns’ simple dress, she had always favored it, perhaps because Cree had given it to her on one of his visits. She had been shocked when Torr had ripped it down the middle to get it off her, but not nearly as shocked as to how she felt when his hands had begun to warm her body.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
She warned herself too late. Images and memories rushed over her along with those wicked tingles. Would they never go away? They pursued her like feverish little bugs nipping at her flesh, though if she was honest with herself it felt more like feverish little bugs tantalizing her flesh.

The door opened then and Torr walked in, fresh snow coating his cloak.

“Snow again?”

“Not heavy, but slow and steady.” He deposited his cloak on the peg and set the bucket he carried in front of the hearth. He placed a large, cleaned fish on the hearth stone and turned to look at Wintra and smiled. “I cleaned it outside.”

She returned his smile. “As I will remind you, blame my overly cleanliness on the nuns.”

“What else should I blame on them?” he asked, and though he meant it teasingly, the way she scrunched her face apparently had her taking his question seriously.

“My curiosity.”

He laughed. “I have a feeling you were always curious.”

“My mum would have agreed with you. She had told me that I asked more than my share of questions. But the nuns rarely if ever answered any of my questions and the few they did answer made no sense. So naturally—”

“Your curiosity grew,” he finished.

“How could it not?”

“I will not stifle your curiosity, so ask any question you wish.”

He made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. She could not discuss just anything with him, especially when it came to intimacy. He wasn’t her husband. He was still very much a stranger, though perhaps not as much as before—not nearly as much as before.

She searched for a question that would be permissible to ask, though recalling the shocked reactions of the nuns when she had asked most any question, she had gotten the impression that none of her questions were appropriate.

She found one that had always perplexed her. “Why must a wife obey her husband without question?”

Torr could not help but laugh. “My mother certainly did not obey my father. She was strong-willed and kind-natured and my father loved her dearly. I think it depends on the husband and wife. My mum and da grew up together, and my da had once told me that he knew when he was only a lad that he loved my mum and they would someday wed. I think your brother Cree loved Dawn long before he ever admitted he did. He was just too stubborn to acknowledge it, though I see now that that runs in the family.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and damn if he didn’t want to kiss her and spar with the tempting little morsel. He ignored the thought and continued their discussion. “Then there are women who let their husbands think that they obey them when all the while they are the ones in charge. And then there are those who suffer badly at the hands of their husbands and can do nothing about it.”

The incident with Owen came rushing back at her, and she shivered at the thought of what life would have been like with him.

“Something disturbs you.”

It wasn’t a question. He was aware that something troubled her, and she wondered how he had sensed it.

He reached out as he did last night and rested his hand on hers. “Tell me.”

She glanced at the fish. “Isn’t the fish ready?”

“It can wait.”

“As can mine, until after we eat,” Wintra said.

“You will tell me then?”

Why not tell him? As he had reminded her, Cree would want to know, and she didn’t know if she could tell her brother what Owen had demanded of her. But she was beginning to believe that it would be easier to tell Torr.

“I will tell you,” she said.

“And I will take you at your word,” he said and turned to see to the fish.

At your word.
Given one’s word meant one’s honor, so she would have no choice but to talk with him after they ate. Perhaps it would do her good to unload the burden she had felt since the incident with Owen. Unfortunately, she felt more burdened than ever since she had badly misjudged Owen. He had played her for a fool and that disturbed her even more.

The meal went faster than Wintra expected, though perhaps not. Perhaps she was simply anxious about talking with Torr. The more she talked with him and the more she watched him move around the room with such ease, the more comfortable she grew with him. The more she believed him a good man and the more she trusted him.

While Torr saw to cleaning his hands in the bucket, Wintra kept refreshed by the hearth, she hurried to get her bone needles from the hem of her cloak. Then she sat in the chair by the fireplace and carefully pulled a thread of wool from the hem of her dress to use to begin her stitching.

Torr thought of asking her what else she had hidden in her cloak, but thought better of it. It would take the conversation away from where he wanted it to go. Another time he would ask what secrets her cloak concealed. For now he moved his chair closer to hers, and waited.

Wintra stopped stitching when the silence grew too heavy for her to bear. She had given her word and he was waiting patiently—damn him—for her to honor it.

She finished a stitch and slipped the needle in the wool to keep it there until later when she could return and do more. She left the dress resting on her lap and looked up at him. Where did she begin? How did she explain? Color stained her cheeks as soon as she recalled Owen’s words.

“I will repeat it as many times as necessary,” Torr said. “You can tell me anything.”

Could she? There was only one way to find out. “Owen thought you had had your way with me and that I was now spoiled goods. He told me that when he returned I was to be naked on my knees and I was to—” She paused a moment at the image that played in her mind and spoke as fast as she could. “I was to take him in my mouth and pleasure him, and I was to do it at least twice a day from that day on.”

How Torr managed to maintain his anger, he didn’t know. If Owen was in front of him at that moment, he would have snapped his neck without an ounce of remorse. Someway, somehow, he intended to see the lecherous man pay for his actions.

“How could he expect me to do such a disgusting thing?”

“He had no right demanding that of you. It is a degrading act to force upon any woman. But since you forever want to know things, I will tell you this. It is a common act shared between willing partners, but the two people must be willing.” Torr said.

“Truly?” she asked, surprised and intrigued. And then the thought hit her. “Do you mean a man does the same to a woman?”

Torr didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes, couples do enjoy tasting each other.”

A shiver ran through Wintra at the image of Torr between her legs tasting her. A blast of tingles shot through her, and she felt herself grow wet. Good Lord, she was going to hell.

“Owen had no right to say that to you or to force you to do such a thing.”

“But it is an acceptable act?” she asked wanting to make certain she had heard him right.

“Between two agreeable people it is.”

“Then husbands and wives do that?”

“If they agree upon it.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then blurted out. “Has someone ever tasted you?” She slapped her hand over her mouth soon after the words slipped out.

“You truly are inquisitive. And the answer is yes and more than once, and I quite enjoyed it”

Why the thought annoyed her, she did not know, but she was quick to ask, “And would you expect your wife to taste you?”

“If she wished to, I would quite welcome it.”

“And would you taste her?” This time she was too curious to be shocked by her own words.

“I look forward to it.”

She grew annoyed again. Why? Was she jealous of what Torr would share with the woman he loved? While what of her? Would her future husband expect that of her? Would he be tolerant if she refused to taste him? The questions raised more questions in her head until she didn’t want to think about it anymore. This wasn’t something that could be settled right at this moment. At least now she had some prior knowledge and when the time came…

She shivered.

“Cold or did I upset you?” Torr asked.

“I am not sure what to think,” she answered, and then smiled. “The nuns would faint dead away if they knew I discussed an inappropriate subject with you.”

“I am sure your curious questions probably caused them to almost faint numerous times. And I would not be surprised if they still pray for you daily.”

“I was a bit of a problem to them,” she admitted. “It was probably the reason they kept reminding me to mind my curiosity and manners when Owen would visit.”

“I am surprised that he was allowed to visit with you without Cree’s permission.”

“It wasn’t me he came to visit. He had admired the abundant gardens I so painstakingly tended and asked if he could speak to me. Mother Abbess granted his request and when we spoke he inquired about some of the herbs I grew. We talked briefly, and he bid me good day.”

“And did you fancy him when you met him?” Torr wanted to know exactly how Owen had worked his way into meeting Wintra and convincing her that he loved her and wanted to wed her. Something did not seem right about the whole thing, and he knew Cree would be just as curious.

“I thought nothing of it. I simply enjoyed our brief discussion and thought that was the end of it. He returned and requested to speak with me about the garden again, though he mostly discussed the herbs with me, and Mother Abbess granted his repeated requests. There were always nuns nearby. We were never alone.”

“Did he ever tell you why he visited the abbey?”

After a moment of thought, Wintra said, “Now that I think of it, he never did, but then I had been warned time and again not to question visiting patrons.”

“So he was paying a stipend to Glenburgh Abbey?”

“The nuns were very secretive of abbey patrons, but from what I could gather in snippets of conversations I caught it would seem that he was.” She scrunched her brow. “I wonder why?”

Torr wondered the same, though said nothing.

“I was a blind fool for not seeing Owen’s true nature,” Wintra said annoyed at herself.

“Owen is a man of many talents while you are young and had been cloistered.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. Owen cares about money and power. He takes what he wants and discards what is no longer of any use to him.”

Wintra shivered again. “He would have discarded me when he was done with me.”

“Cree would have never allowed it, and if anything had happened, your brother would have killed Owen and not quickly.” Torr did not add that Cree would have to have been quick about it because he would have seen to it himself.

Wintra turned her head to stare at the fire’s flames. “Dear Lord, I came so horribly close to making a costly mistake. I let Owen convince me that he was in love with me and that we would be happy together. But worse, I let him convince me that I was in love with him.” She turned to look at Torr, locking her tears away, refusing to let them fall. “Never again. Never will I let another man make a fool of me.”

He smiled. “I would say it was you who made the fool of Owen since you escaped him and freed me.”

Her chin went up. “I certainly did.”

“And now that you know more about men and love, the choice of who to love will be yours.”

“No, no,” she argued shaking her head. “I do not know near enough about men or love. You must teach me.” She nodded. “That is what we will do while waiting to return home. You will teach me about men and love.”

Torr burst out laughing. “Princess, you do not truly want to know about men. And love? I need to learn about that myself.”

Wintra took hold of his hand and squeezed it. “But I do want to know about men. I never want to be that vulnerable to a man again. You have been good to me. Honorable. You want nothing from me. I trust you, so who better to teach me? And love? Perhaps we can figure it out together.”

Torr yanked his hand away, stood, and walked around to the other side of the table. “You do not know what you ask of me. You told me you found me appealing. I have intimately touched almost every part of you, and we have kissed. I am not a monk who lives a celibate life. I am a man with needs and desires.” He slapped his hands down on the table and stared straight at her. “And seeing desire in your eyes for me does not help.”