Loved By a Warrior (16 page)

Chapter 18

T
ara felt frozen with fear yet burned with desire. She wanted so very badly to surrender to passion, but what if she did, and then . . .

“Let love rule, not fear,” he reminded with a whisper.

Wasn't she doing just that? Wasn't she thinking how she felt the same as he did, that she believed she loved him? And if she did, did she love him enough to walk away so that he might live?

“Don't do this,” Reeve pleaded. “Forget everything but you and me.”

“That is the only thing I am thinking about,” she said.

With his two hands, he cupped her face. “Good. Then how do you feel at this moment?”

“I worry—”

“No,” he argued. “How does your
body
feel?”

She couldn't help but smile. “It tingles all over.”

“What else?” he asked.

Her cheeks heated and bloomed bright red in his hands.

He didn't laugh or tease her about her obvious reaction. He simply encouraged her. “Tell me.”

“I truthfully don't know how to explain it.”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, “
and feel.
”

His hands left her face and drifted faintly down along her body, stopping here and there to stroke more intimately, the crook of her neck, the dip in her blouse, and settled on her hard nipples.

She shuddered and sighed.

“Tell me,” he urged again.

“I feel a pleasurable ache that needs tending. It steals the breath, beats at the heart, and tortures the body in the most exquisite way.”

His hand roamed down along her waist, gravitating slowly over her hips and nestling firmly between her legs.

“Oh!” She lurched up, only to settle more intimately in his hand.

“Now tell me.”

She stumbled for words, for a breath, for sound reasoning. “I can't think.”

He rested his cheek against hers and whispered in her ear, “Don't.
Just feel
!”

His hand began to move against her skirt, igniting a small pulse that quickly turned to a throb and made her grow wet.

Her head tipped back as she moaned with sheer pleasure.

His lips settled on her exposed neck, and he was soon nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin. It fueled her already raging passion. And she thought she would go mad, simply insane, if he did not douse the fire that burned inside her.

“Feel,” he urged once more, and took her hand and slipped it beneath his plaid.

She almost yelped when she felt the thick size of him though it didn't take long for her to realize that she liked the
feel
of him, smooth and soft like fine silk. Enjoying the strength of him in her hand, she explored, stroking him and realizing with delight that the tip of him was wet and ready just like her.

“You must tell me now,” he urged. “Go or stay. I can wait no longer.”

Reason had fled when desire had fully claimed her, and so without hesitation, she said, “Stay.”

He groaned and reluctantly moved her hand off him then in a flash scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, his mouth hungry on hers.

The pounding at the door startled them both, and a steady stream of oaths spewed from Reeve's mouth before he shouted out, “Who's there?”

“Mum. I need Tara.”

Mara's anxious voice had them splitting apart in seconds. Tara smoothed her rumpled garments and hurried toward the door. Reeve lingered behind a moment, and once at the door, Tara turned and saw that he hadn't moved.

“I'll go. You stay,” she said, seeing that he was trying to regain his composure.

“That's not what I wanted to hear this night.”

“There's always later.”

His head shot up. “Promise.”

“I promise”–she hesitated—“that soon we'll finish what we started.”

“But not tonight?”

“I don't know what the night will bring with your brother,” she said.

He shook his head and hurried to her side. “I think of myself when I should be thinking of Trey. Let's go.”

He opened the door, and they found Mara pacing in front of it.

“His fever has gone up, and it looks as if one of his wounds pulled open from his earlier struggles.”

“I'm sure it can be mended,” Tara said. “Let's have a look.”

Tara changed her mind when she saw the ripped stitches. The area was already red and swollen, and she feared poison had settled in. She much preferred to leave the stitches as they were, hoping the opening, though small, provided an avenue of escape for the poison that could spread all too fast.

An herb mixture had been kept brewing and fed to Trey when possible, and Tara decided to use an herb mixture that the women of her clan had used with some success on his wounds.

She worked a good many hours beside Mara, having decided it would be wise to keep Trey bathed in some snow throughout the night to control his fever.

Sunrise brought success since Trey slept comfortably, not a fit or stir from him and his fever marginal.

Mara chased Tara off to get some sleep, insisting she rest in case she was needed again. Tara didn't argue. She was bone-tired and ached for sleep almost as much as she had ached for Reeve earlier.

The memory had her halting in her tracks in the hall and had her wondering over the wisdom of returning to his room. She could go to her cottage, but what if she was needed again? They would have to go looking for her, and that would waste precious time.

If she did go to Reeve's room, there was a good chance, a very good chance, that she would get no sleep. And while a tiny tingle coaxed her to do just that, she was much too tired to be tempted by it. If so, then why not go to Reeve's bedchamber. He would surely understand and make no demands on her.

But would she be the one making demands on him?

She slumped against the stone wall, pondering her dilemma.

The thought struck fast, and she pushed away from the wall, thinking it would be a good idea to tell Mara that she would be in her sewing room.

Bryce rounded the corner then, and she was quick to ask him to deliver the message for her. He agreed, and she bid him good night though it was early morning. She moved slowly along the hall to the stairs, never noticing his interest in her hobbling gait.

R
eeve woke as the new day dawned and wasn't surprised to see that he had slept alone. He had assumed Tara had a long night ahead of her and so he had left her with his mum to look after Trey and sought his bed.

He'd had a fitful sleep, though, surprisingly, he woke refreshed. He was eager to see Tara, and so he hurried and dressed and went in search of her. He assumed she would be with Trey and his mum, so he was surprised when he entered the room to find Bryce signaling him to be quiet and pointing to their mum, sound asleep in the chair.

A quick glance around told him Tara wasn't there.

Bryce signaled him to step outside the room, and once out, he closed the door behind them.

“You look for Tara, I assume.”

“I thought she'd be here,” Reeve said.

“She's in the sewing room.”

“Why? And how do you know that?” Reeve demanded.

“I saw her in the hall a short time ago, and she asked me to tell mum. As for why?” Bryce grinned. “You're better to answer that than me.”

“One of these days I'm just going to beat you and get it over with,” Reeve said, turning and shaking his head as he walked away.

“Reeve,” Bryce called out.

Reeve stopped but didn't turn around. “What?”

“She's limping again.”

That had Reeve turning around.

“And I don't believe she even realizes it,” Bryce finished.

Reeve shook his head again and grumbled beneath his breath.

Bryce laughed. “Damn, if you don't sound like a man in love . . . utterly confused.”

“I'm saving that beating for you and one day . . .” Reeve ignored Bryce's laughter, which chased after him.

Sure enough, Tara was curled up, and looking most uncomfortable, in mum's large wooden chair in front of the dwindling hearth. He was quick to add two good-sized logs to the fire before he went over to her.

That she had obviously been too tired to add the logs herself upset him. He hadn't needed to ask Bryce why she came here, he knew. She avoided him, thereby avoiding the inevitable between them though he could understand she was fatigued. Had she not trusted him to let her rest, or had she not trusted herself?

He liked the latter answer better.

He refused to think of anything but her need for rest. He would not linger on the softness of her skin, or her luscious curves, or her plump, moist lips.

He grumbled silently, feeling himself already swelling with desire. He'd get her settled in his bed and leave the room.

She didn't even stir when he lifted her into his arms and carried her out. Sleep had laid a heavy hand on her, and he didn't believe she'd be waking up anytime soon.

He laid her gently on the bed once in his bedchamber and went to take off her boots. He stopped when he saw that her ankle had once again swelled. He took off the one and worried that taking off the other would wake her, but if he left it on, and it continued to swell . . .

With a shake of his head and a gentle touch he began to ease the boot off. He grinned, seeing that his endeavors looked to be successful until he reached a point that proved difficult. He struggled, carefully if that was possible, and just when he thought he had it . . .

She gave a yelp as her eyes sprung open wide.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Her eyes fought to remain open. “I twisted it on the stairs.”

He almost chastised her for not telling him sooner though he realized that wasn't what she needed from him at the moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

Her eyes had closed, and he knew what she needed . . . sleep.

He tucked the warm wool blankets around her and added another log to the fire. He returned to the bed, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.

“I do believe I love you, Tara—” He eased up to his full height and stared down at her, wondering what clan she had belonged to. Part of her was still very much a mystery to him.

He grinned as he walked to the door. He'd unravel her one layer at a time, and the thought produced the most delightful image.

With hunger gnawing at his stomach, Reeve hurried downstairs to the great hall. He didn't think his mum would be there, but some of the others would be, and he looked forward to sitting and talking with them.

He saw that Willow was at the table with Carmag and Bryce, and he joined them, taking the spot next to his brother.

“Tara finally sleeps?” Bryce asked.

“She's all tucked in,” Reeve said.

“Willow was just telling us of the soldiers,” Carmag said.

She continued as Reeve helped himself to food.

“Jacob and I had to huddle in wait while two soldiers stood only inches from our hiding spot. We heard clearly what they had to say. They were worried that the king was in a snit, angrier than they have ever seen him. It seems that he's lost something of great importance, and he wants it returned.”

“This confirms what I heard,” Reeve said.

“The soldiers must know what they look for,” Bryce said.

“If they do, they made no mention of it,” Willow said.

“If the soldiers don't dare speak of it, then they must do so under threat of severe punishment,” Carmag added.

“Or they don't know what it is they seek,” Bryce said.

Willow shook her head. “How can you search when you don't know what you search for?”

“The king could have directed them to look for particular signs or listen for certain gossip,” Reeve explained.

“It's done more often than most realize,” Bryce said. “Many times it has to be kept secret so that a mission doesn't fail.”

Willow scrunched her brow and looked to Reeve. “I recall Jacob mentioning something after you and Tara left. He told me that one of the soldiers asked if any travelers passed this way recently.” Tears stung her eyes. “The answer didn't please the soldier, and that's when they began to—” She wiped at her tears.

“The king looks for someone,” Bryce said.

“That he does,” Willow said. “The true king of Scotland.”

Reeve shook his head. “No, he seeks travelers. The true king would not travel obvious roadways.”

“You're right,” Willow said with a nod.

“Travelers would also lead one to assume he means more than one person,” Bryce said.

“Whoever it is,” Carmag said, “he's of extreme importance to the king.”

Reeve grinned. “That means we should find him first.”

“I'll help,” Willow offered.

“Mum could use help with Trey,” Bryce said.

Willow shook her head adamantly. “I meant in finding this person or persons. I'm not good with just sitting idly by while the men tend to things. My Rory taught me how to handle weapons, the bow and arrow being my favorite. Jacob continued to teach me all he could—”

She paused, tears once again clouding her eyes. “He had been adamant about the lessons, pushing me harder and harder each day, as if he only had so much time left.”

“This mission is best left to men,” Bryce said gently.

“Why?” Willow snapped.

Bryce rested his hand on her arm. “You're upset—”

“Damn right, I am,” Willow said, shoving his hand off her. “I've lost my husband, his child I carried, and his grandda, and if you think I will sit idly by—” She shook her head, her cheeks turning a furious red. “You're wrong. Dead wrong!”

“We'll see if we can somehow use your help,” Bryce said.

“Don't placate me,” Willow warned, and stood. “Or I'll go off on my own and find out who this person or persons of interest are and damn well make him or them pay for taking the last of my family from me.”