The Highlander's Runaway Bride (17 page)

‘Then what does it involve?' she asked.

‘Turn away and I will show you,' he said. Pleased when she did so with little hesitation, he lifted his hands towards her. ‘Where does it hurt the worst?'

‘My shoulders ache, but my back is the worst,' she answered. He smiled, again pleased by this small show of trust.

‘Let us see if this helps, then.'

Rob placed his hands over her shoulders, using his thumbs to press into the tight muscles there, easing and increasing the amount of pressure he used with each stroke. When her moan of pain became a sigh of ease, he knew he'd found the best touch for her. Unfortunately for him, the breathy sighs resembled the sounds of passion, and his body reacted, hardening as she sighed again and again.

He slid his hands along her spine, his thumbs leading the way, until he reached her back. A cry of pain when he touched one place alarmed him.

‘Can you bear it for a moment or two? It will feel better quickly,' he urged.

‘Aye,' she whispered, allowing him to massage the place.

He waited, repeating the kneading motion until she uttered those damned sighs. Then he began to slide his hands down, reaching her lower back and hips.

‘Nay,' she said, pulling away.

‘Hush now, do not move,' he urged. ‘You will undo all of my efforts.' He kept his hands where he'd placed them, holding her still. ‘Trust me, Eva,' he whispered.

The moment of waiting for her response seemed to go on for years. 'Twas such a small thing here and now, but the sign she could give him with her compliance was as huge as any step he'd ever taken in his life. He almost shouted in victory when she relaxed against his hands. Then the physical torture of touching her without doing more commenced as he pressed and massaged the tension and pain from her back and hips.

‘It feels wonderful, Rob,' she whispered, her voice as she spoke his name sent waves of desire through him and into his manhood. ‘How did you learn such things?' Oh, he knew so much more than this simple massage. For now though, he contented himself with touching her so.

‘Training and fighting is not without pain and injury. 'Tis a commonplace thing, truly.' He lightened his touch, sliding his hands gently in wide movements across her hips and back and then up on to her shoulders. ‘Margaret uses such a thing in her ministrations to the injured.'

‘So you learned this from your sister?' Her voice was growing softer.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Rob did not tell the whole truth. ‘Some of this, aye. Some of it is just from trying it and seeing what works.' He finished, but left his hands on her shoulders. ‘How does your back feel now?'

‘So much better. You have my thanks for that.' He could feel her begin to shift, testing the now-relaxed muscles.

‘Nay, do not move. Let them rest now that they are not painful,' he said.

‘Truly, my body does not wish to move right now,' she said with a light laugh.

His body, however, did want to move and to do many other things to hers at this moment. Like touch her everywhere. Like tasting and kissing every tender and sensitive spot he could find. Like filling her with his flesh and marking her with his seed. He forced every one of those desires back under control then, knowing it was not time yet.

‘Then do not. Rest here.' He slid a bit closer. He let his arm drape over her, his hand resting on the bed near, so near, to her breasts, but not touching her.

They remained so, for a short time. Then, the words just burst from him, without thought.

‘How much longer will your courses last, Eva?'

Chapter Eighteen

E
va's face still flamed when she thought of him asking such a thing. Even two days later, when the bleeding ceased, she could not meet his gaze. Such an intimate thing to ask.

At home, she understood that even the servants knew the timing and length or even the absence of her courses. 'Twas how her mother and then her father had learned of her disobedience and her condition. Those who washed the laundry knew. Those who cleaned her chambers knew. From the time of her first one until the time she delivered her daughter, someone knew.

And now, the man she called husband knew. Eva pressed her cool hand to her heated cheek as she walked to Margaret's cottage in the village. He had not asked her again, but she understood the reason behind it. He'd suspected she had a lover and might be carrying. With the way she'd run away and everything else that had happened, it did not surprise her. He, and the Mackintosh as well, must have thought that was the reason for marrying her off so quickly.

He was not far off the truth of the matter and only in the timing of her disgrace by a few months.

Now though, she remembered every second of his touch as he soothed her aches and pains even while creating a wholly different kind of throbbing. Eva recalled being in the throes of passion with a man and, as much as she'd like to deny it even to herself, his strong hands and fingers made her want to turn to him and beg him to touch other parts of her.

Passion and desire had overwhelmed her before.

It would, she did not doubt, happen again.

Eva deciphered the desire filling his eyes and felt the changes in his body—his large, strong body—that spoke of his physical arousal and need. Each meeting, each encounter with him, brought with it a growing tension between them. The problem, the main problem, was she did not know how she felt about it.

To her, this was going to end in only one way—her husband would claim his marital rights on her body and she would have no way or right to stop him.

In being candid with herself again, which she felt she needed to be in order to prepare herself for the inevitable, Eva was not certain she wanted to stop him.

That brought her to an abrupt halt on the path to the village. Even when people passed her by, greeting her politely, she stood there shocked into silence by that realisation.

Accepting him in the marriage bed meant acknowledging that their marriage was true and permanent. Could she do that? Did that mean that she must give up on ever finding Mairead? And forget about the love she shared with Eirik? Was either of those things even possible now?

As Arabella had counselled, a noblewoman could not raise a bastard child and certainly not with her husband's clan. Men could acknowledge their natural children and often did, but that did not work the same way for women. The presence of a child born out of wedlock would simply never be accepted. How could she reconcile her past with the possible future, the probable future, life she had here with the Mackintoshes?

‘Is there something wrong, lady?'

Eva turned and found Margaret there watching her. How long had Eva been standing in that mist of thought, and how long had Rob's sister been watching her? Before she could answer, Margaret laughed.

‘And does the frown on your brow have anything to do with something my brother has done or said?'

Eva smiled then. Neither sibling missed an opportunity to tease the other. As the only child born to her parents, she'd never experienced that facet of childhood, either.

‘Nay, nothing is wrong, Margaret. I was just thinking about the changes in my life over the last few months.'

‘And Rob?'

‘Well, aye, he is one of them.'

Margaret wrapped her arm around Eva's and began walking towards the cottages and crofts where she would visit to check on the sick and injured.

‘He is a good man, Eva. He's been a bit full of himself and has had an easy time with women, but I think he will be a good husband to you.'

'Twas the first time the woman had ever pressed her brother's case before. Until now, she'd never said a word for or against him, other than telling her his reaction to the news of their impending marriage. What could she say in response?

‘He has not been unkind to me, Margaret.' Didn't her lack of saying something more make him sound worse than she'd meant him to sound?

‘Well, I do not wish to meddle...' she began and then laughed. ‘That is not true. I want to meddle but know not how to get started with you.'

Eva laughed, too, at the woman's candour. The sentiment and the intent of it warmed her heart, for no one had ever cared enough about her to look too closely or become involved before. Though she wanted to accept their interest and caring natures, Eva had learned long ago that it would lead to nothing good.

The servant who'd noticed her missed cycles and went to her mother out of concern was thrown out of the keep and banished—her father wanted no witnesses to her shame. The man she'd loved and who'd promised to protect her and take her and their baby away was dead—pushed down a ravine when he tried to save Eva from her father.

So, revealing too much to these people could still result in harm to the only thing important to her now—her daughter. She knew what she had to say.

‘I am certain everything will work out. We are married, and I must learn to accustom myself as his wife.' Now Margaret was the one who pulled them both to a stop.

‘And Robbie? Mustn't he learn to accustom himself to you?'

Margaret muttered then, words Eva was glad she could not make out. Margaret was still talking to herself as they walked on towards their first stop. She did not speak or ask questions on the topic of her brother or his marriage for the rest of the morning. Eva did not fool herself into thinking that she would not have her say.

* * *

Just as Eva was leaving to return to the keep, Margaret took her hand once more and leaned in closer.

‘You are safe here, Eva. I know not what has happened in your life before this, but you are under the Mackintosh's protection now. Be at ease and know that it can all work out for you.'

If only...

Eva smiled and nodded, accepting the words and the intent even if she did not and could not believe it. Oh, she believed herself somewhat safe and out of her father's control, but her daughter was not.

Walking back to the keep, she kept glancing out the corner of her eye, expecting Rob to show up. He'd turned up at the most unlikely times and places over the last days. Sometimes he seemed to be seeking her out and other times he simply was there, conversing with others or carrying out some task or duty. As she reached the place where the road forked and one path led to the keep, she found him waiting.

‘Have you finished with Margaret, then?' he asked, swinging his leg over and jumping from his horse.

‘I have,' she said, walking to him. ‘I have learned so much from her in such a short time.'

‘You do not have to do that,' he said, holding out his arm to her. ‘A lady...'

‘A lady learns her stitches. A lady learns to sing. A lady...' Eva said, mimicking the words of her own mother and one of her diatribes about the correct behaviour and pastimes for a lady.

‘Sits on her arse and looks pretty while doing so,' he finished for her. Eva laughed at that. He watched her and then a smile broke on his face.

Good Lord, when he smiled she could get lost just watching it! She'd found herself staring at him when they were with Margaret or Arabella, when his smiles were easy and frequent. He was a handsome man, nay, a gorgeous man when he smiled like this.

‘Apologies, lady,' he said with a nod. ‘My language is, as my sister and Arabella tell me, deplorable and not fit for polite company.'

‘I have noticed,' she said. ‘I confess though, I am not offended by it.'

And she wasn't. Once the surprise of it wore through, she accepted it was simply something he did. From his thorough examination of her face, it was clear he did not believe her. He shook his head at her admission.

‘I do not want you to exhaust yourself, Eva,' he said. ‘You came here barely recovered from a fever. You do not rest well. You drive yourself relentlessly, never taking time for yourself.'

‘To sit on my arse and look pretty?' she asked. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Eva did not know why she'd said such a thing, but his words, tinged with concern, were too close and too personal. It unnerved her. And yet, she found herself longing to see him smile again.

‘If you have a longing to say such things, I could teach you,' he offered, his expression that of a young boy urging someone to join in his wickedness. His wink was devastating to her control. ‘The truly bad words.'

‘I fear you could,' she admitted, enjoying the light-hearted moment far more than she would have anticipated. ‘I will consider your kind offer.'

He laughed aloud once more and patted her hand where it lay on his arm.

They walked side by side up the road, his horse being led instead of ridden. It was a companionable silence for a time until he slowed their pace just before entering the gates.

‘Brodie asked me to do something, asked us, and I wanted to tell you before he approaches you.

Rob watched as that expectation of doom entered her blue eyes once more. He hated the fear that dwelled within her. He hated the way she began to gather herself for an expected blow. But, he'd watched her these past weeks and her avoidance of the bairn was conspicuous.

Though neither Brodie nor Arabella mentioned it or seemed concerned by it, he had watched as a carefully arranged process was set in place. Eva's visits to Arabella always happened when the babe was napping or otherwise being cared for by her nursemaid. No matter that he had held the wee bairn several times already, as far as Rob could tell, his wife had not seen the babe since that day when she helped bring her into the world.

And that was damned odd, even to him.

The fact that he noticed was another peculiarity.

At some time in the past days, Rob had accepted that she did matter to him. And she mattered more than simply the woman he was forced to marry.

When they'd first met, and even until this last week, he would have thought her fear was of him. However, he now understood, knew somehow, that she had let go of any fear of him. This reaction now was of another matter completely. He knew it.

‘What does he wish us to do?' she asked. He heard the slight tremble in her voice that she tried to control.

‘He wishes us to stand as godparents to the babe.'

Her gaze narrowed slightly at his words. Other than that, there was no visible reaction. Well, others might not notice anything but he did. She began to clasp her hands, rubbing one over the other in slow motions while the rest of her body moved not at all. It was the one gesture that seemed to escape her control in times when she was frightened or upset.

‘An honour,' she whispered. ‘To be asked is an honour.' Her words and tone seemed to seek to reassure herself as much as an answer to him.

‘'Tis an honour. And I would like to accept but wanted to know your mind on the matter.' She blinked then, several times, before speaking.

‘As you wish,' she said, nodding.

Unfortunately, he'd expected exactly this. She never refused him anything outright, no matter that he could see the cost to her. None of that explained her lack of interest in Brodie and Bella's daughter.

‘Eva, I do not know what makes you uncomfortable about this babe, but I can see it that you have avoided her. If you do not wish to do this, you can decline Brodie's request. Your help in bringing Arabella safely through delivery means Brodie will refuse you nothing.'

In the space of a single moment, her expression emptied and a vacant gaze met his. It was not the reaction he'd expected.

‘Forgive me, sir,' she said after a short silence. ‘I left...something with Margaret that I must retrieve.'

His wife turned and walked away from him, back towards the village without another word and without waiting on his reaction.

She was running away.

Again.

He did not know and could not fathom why the subject of the babe should cause her to do so, but, as he watched her almost trip over her hasty steps to get away, Rob knew it linked one to the other.

Mayhap she feared childbirth or having children? They'd never discussed having children because it was expected. Had she lost someone close in childbirth? Was that the name she often called out when she was dreaming?
Mairead.

So, as he watched her disappear down one of the pathways to the village, Rob wondered whether or not to follow her.

He did.

Tying the horse there, he followed her on foot. She had not gone towards Margaret's cottage but in the other direction. Not knowing he pursued her, she continued on until she reached the edge of the village and stopped near the stream there. Eva was so caught up in her thoughts, she clearly did not hear his approach.

Rob waited as she fought some battle within herself. Gazing at the water as it flowed past, she did not move and barely breathed. After some minutes, he decided it was time to take action in a different manner.

He'd been kind. He'd been patient. He'd ignored her behaviour and allowed her refusal to accept him as husband to remain between them. And none of that worked. She was, with little change, as distant from him as almost the day they met.

It could not go on like this between them.

Rob walked to where she stood and said her name.

‘Eva.'

She startled and turned to face him. Although he'd planned a different strategy, something in him released and the words he said surprised him, revealing his long-festering wound of his own.

‘I grow weary of being judged by what others have done in the past. I tire of the constant fear and doubt in your eyes when you look upon me. And most of all, I will not wait on your acceptance of me as your husband in spite of the way it all came about.' Her hands began that twisting motion—at least until he reached out and took her hands in his own.