Loved By a Warrior (17 page)

The three men watched her march off.

“She'll calm down and come to her senses,” Bryce said.

Reeve shook his head. “I wouldn't wager on that.”

Duncan all but flew off the stairs into the great hall, two pails swinging from each hand. “Trey's burning up again.”

Chapter 19

T
he next two days passed in a blur, with Trey needing constant attention. Mercy went through bouts of fatigue and not being able to keep food down, and Rand took ill, running a fever that refused to let go.

Tara, Willow, and Mara ran tirelessly amongst all of them tending them as best as they could, with Duncan remaining by his wife's side doing more for her than anyone. The storm continued to rage outside, leaving the Picts stranded with the MacAlpin clan.

When things seemed settled, though illness continued to plague the clan, Tara took a moment to return to her cottage. She needed time to think, time to refresh not only her thoughts but her body.

She heated a cauldron full of snow so that she could wash and slip into clean garments before returning to the keep. And she worried, worried terribly that she had brought this plague of problems down upon Reeve's clan. How to correct the situation? She wasn't sure. She only knew that she had to do something. She hoped refreshing herself would help clear the muddled confusion in her mind and help her find a way to amend this mess.

Tara sighed and slipped out of her clothes, draping them over the chair, to be washed and dried by the fire when she was done. Getting her boot off had proven a slight chore since her ankle had swelled on and off over the last couple of days. She knew it would have done her good to have remained off it, but that hadn't been possible. There had been too much to do.

Given time, it would heal, and she would not think anymore on it. It was, after all, the least of her worries.

The wind whipped around the cottage, trembling the timber frame and penetrating the wattle-and-daub walls with a chill. She was grateful for the roaring fire that burned brightly in the fireplace and kept the one room warm.

She hurried to wash herself with the heated water in the cauldron. She had wanted to wash her hair, but it would have taken much too long to dry, and so she had twisted it and pinned it to the back of her head with her bone comb to keep it out of her way.

She had placed a fresh change of clothes on the bed, a high-necked, long-sleeved dark blue velvet dress; though not conducive to tending the ill, it certainly would keep her warm.

The fire's light highlighted her freshly scrubbed skin as she finished the last of her scrub. She jumped when suddenly the front door opened, letting in not only a blast of cold air but Reeve along with it.

They both stood staring at each other, a layer of snow quickly melting off Reeve's hair and shoulders.

“I-I-I-” Reeve stumbled over his words.

“Should have knocked,” Tara scolded, her arms crossing over the front of her, trying desperately to cover herself.

Reeve flung off his cloak and dropped it on the peg by the door, though he missed and it fell to the ground. Not that he noticed, he was too busy staring at Tara.

“Good Lord, you're beautiful,” he said, advancing on her slowly.

The passion that flooded his dark eyes warned that she would be in trouble very soon if she didn't cover herself though it might already be too late.

She searched around her for something to cover herself with, but her fresh clothes lay out of reach. The only thing left was the towel she had used to dry herself, and that was damp. But it was something, at least, and so she reached for it.

“Don't!” he warned sharply. “I love looking at your naked body.”

“But it's not a wise idea,” she cautioned, her hand creeping closer to the towel on the table.

He grinned. “I don't care.”

He was near on top of her when she grabbed for the towel.

He was faster. He reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her up against him. “You made a promise. Will you keep it?”

“Now is—”

“A good time,” he finished.

“That's not what I was going to say.”

“It's what you should be saying,” Reeve said.

“I am needed—”

Reeve grinned. “You are definitely needed.”

Tara surprised herself when she asked, “Needed or loved?”

“That's a good question,” Reeve said. “Shall we find out?”

“I think I would prefer the answer first.”

“You want to know
if
I love you before I
make
love to you?”

“I would,” she said.

“You're standing here naked in front of me, and you want me to make certain I love you before I ravish you—”

“Out of love or need?”

“Do you know what you ask of me?”

Tara nodded slowly. “The truth.”

He sucked in a breath, let her go, and turned away from her, running his hand through his hair before he turned back around. “I think I love you, I believe I do, it makes sense that I do—”

“And yet you cannot say for sure that you do.”

“What of the curse?” he suddenly asked.

“Why do you think I ask this of you?”

He wrinkled his brow. “I'm trying to understand why suddenly—” He shook his head, his brow remaining wrinkled with confusion. “Is it that you would prefer that I
didn't
love you?”

“In some ways, it would make things easier,” she said, though didn't add that in other ways it would make things much more difficult. What if it was merely lust he felt for her—when she felt much more.

Her naked body was already alive for him, every morsel of her skin sensitive and yearning to be touched. She ached for his hands to cover every inch of her, not to mention his lips, especially those little nibbles and nips she had come to favor. And if that weren't enough, there was the familiar joyous ache of love that consumed her. She had felt it for Rory though not nearly as strong as she felt it for Reeve.

“So should I have my way with you and not concern myself with love?”

“That way may work to your advantage.”

She could see that the suggestion bothered him as it did her, but she had to protect him, and she had to protect herself.

“You're not making this easy,” he complained.

“You knew it wouldn't be easy from the very beginning when you found me.”

Reeve glared at her, pointing his finger. “Cover yourself, or I will see you in that bed and couple with you before you have a chance to protest.”

“What makes you think I will protest?”

Reeve shook his head. “So you want me to couple with you, but you don't want me to love you.”

“Too much has happened to make me believe other than that the curse is very much alive and active. I don't truly know how to protect anyone from it. I only know that death stalks those who love me, or wed me, and so I refuse to take any more chances.”

“So you will couple with me, but not—” Reeve stopped as if unable to speak it aloud.

Tara finished for him. “I will not make love with you.”

He took a step back, as if she had punched him hard, and strangely enough, her words had impacted her as much as him, for she felt it deep in her belly.

“You can't stop me from loving you,” he said.

“No, I can't, if it truly is love,” she said, shaking her head. “But right now, I can refuse to make love with you.”

“You made a promise,” he said, disappointed.

“I promised that we would finish what we started. Was it love or lust that had brought us to that point? If lust then”–she stretched her arm out, her finger pointing to the bed—“join me to finally satisfy that lust. If it is love you feel—then please leave.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he said sharply. “Get dressed.”

“Wh—”

“Don't say another word,” he warned. “My anger is too ripe. Now get dressed.”

He turned his back, and Tara wisely did as he had ordered, a shiver racing through her, and not from any chill.

She was glad the dark blue velvet dress tied high at her neck, and she rushed into her dark stockings though she had trouble with her one boot and decided to leave them off, not dare asking Reeve for help.

“I'm done,” she said.

“Sit,” he said, though it sounded more of a command.

She didn't argue. She sat at the table, and he took the other seat across from her.

“Now you will tell me about this curse.” He was ready for her protest and raised his hand as her mouth opened and she shook her head. “I've had enough, Tara. You will tell me what happened so that I may judge for myself.”

“Will it matter?” she asked.

“It might scare me off and my lust for you as well. The problem would then be settled.”

“How can I take you seriously when you wear a grin? “

He leaned his arms on the table. “Then I dare you to wipe it off.”

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She loved his grin. It made him all the more handsome, and he was handsome enough without it. But there was something about his smile that changed his features and struck her heart, sending it thumping madly every time.

This time, however, was different. This time, her heart beat wildly because she feared that once he heard the truth, he would walk away from her forever. And that very reason, she feared, was the only way of saving him.

Tara began the tale that had started when she was barely ten years. “I was an inquisitive child and therefore adventurous. I would wander off in search of—” She shrugged. “I don't know what it was I searched for; I only knew I wanted to learn things and not only women things.

“One day I followed my father deep into the woods. I had seen him go off there alone many times, and I wanted to know where he went. I watched as he came upon a lone cottage. It had strange symbols carved around the door and a lone window, and a strange scent that bothered the nose surrounded it.

“I thought to sneak up to the window and see what went on within, but a young lad suddenly appeared at my side, frightening me half to death. He looked to be around my age and he beckoned me to follow him. I did, and he took me to a stream, where we sat and he showed me a collection of small stones he kept in a pouch. It took me a moment to realize that he couldn't speak, but it didn't matter to me. I enjoyed his company and what he was showing me.

“His head suddenly went up, and he motioned for me to follow him again. He took me back to where he found me and cautioned me to remain quiet with a finger to his lips. Then he was gone. My father came out of the cottage a short time later, and I followed him home.”

She paused to glance at the fire. “I followed my father again and again so that I could visit with the lad I named Stone. He smiled and nodded when I told him that, as if I had guessed his name.”

Tara turned to look at Reeve. “Stone was my first love. Soon I remembered the way there myself, and for two years I went to visit him as much as I could. I don't know what it was about him, I just knew that I wanted to be with him. And I knew he felt the same about me.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “My father found me with Stone one day. I think one of my half brothers had followed me and told him. He dragged us both to the cottage and demanded the witch remove the spell she or her son had put on me. I hadn't known that his mother was a witch until then, or that my father believed Stone one as well.

“The woman smiled and tried to tell my father to let us be, that we were in love, and it was a good love. He grew furious and ordered her to do as he said or suffer the consequences. She tried to explain that there was nothing she could do, that love had claimed us and that she could not defy love.

“My father refused to listen, refused to see reason, and so he beat Stone.” A tear fell, and she let it. “I tried to stop him. I took a few blows until one of my half brothers dragged me off and held me kicking and screaming. The witch begged my father to stop, but he was furious and kept pounding Stone. Finally, I bit my half brother's arm so hard he let me go; I could taste the blood I had drawn. I ran and flung myself on top of Stone's battered body.

“I suffered a few blows before my father realized and stopped. The witch was quick to fling me off her son and cradle him in her arms. My father warned her to leave his land or he would see her dead along with her son. It was as he dragged me away crying that she screamed out the curse.”

Tara turned silent, not wanting to repeat the words that had remained burned in her memory all these years.

“Tell me,” Reeve urged. “I want to hear it.”

Tara sighed and repeated the words she hadn't muttered since she had first heard them. “Your heart will break just like mine, over and over, time after time. When you claim the love of your heart, the touch of death will see you part. If it is a vow you make, death will visit again and take. And for those men who speak aloud their love for you, death will see them taken too. On this day I curse you well and condemn you to a living hell.

“My father threw me aside and drew his sword with all intentions of striking her dead, but she raised her hand and told him that if he took one more step toward her, he would drop dead at her feet when he finally reached her. My father did not move, and when he did, it was to grab me and once again warn her to leave his land or die. I don't know if Stone lived or died. I never saw him again.”

Tara waited for Reeve to say something, anything, but he remained silent. She knew what he must be thinking, the fear that must be racing through him, and so she said, “You can leave now.”

He shook his head. “What?”

“You can leave. I understand, and have no worries. I will keep to myself.”

“You think me a coward?” he asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Not at all. I think you the bravest of men.”

“Then if you believe that, why would you think I would leave?”

“I stunned you silent—”

“You assumed that your tale frightened me?”

“It would most.”

He shook his head. “I'm not most. And as for my silence, I was thinking about the witch. If she had such power, she would have used it to protect her son. She lashed out at you to hurt your father, the only way she could, as he had hurt her son.”