Page 19 of The Fierce Highlander

“You will wait for me to help you off the horse,” he ordered.

She did not argue, feeling a raindrop hit her.

Noble hurried off the horse, then reached up to grip her waist and ease her off the horse. One of his warriors quickly appeared to take the reins and lead the horse to shelter after handing a small sack to Noble.

It was as if the dark sky suddenly broke open and released a flood of rain, Noble closing the door against the downpour the best he could since it hung on a lone metal hinge.

The rainstorm brought a chilly wind with it that whipped at the cottage and after seeing Leora deposited on a bench and dropping a small sack on another bench that had survived the decay, he gathered pieces of broken furniture scattered about and started a fire in the small hearth that had seen better days but thankfully still worked well enough to warm the small place.

Leora shivered seeing the vines that had crept through the cracks in the walls and where the wind found passage. She wondered if the place was sturdy enough to hold together or if time and the weather had battered it so badly that it was not strong enough to survive another beating.

“It will serve us well enough for the night,” Noble said, seeing the worry on his wife’s face along with fatigue and possibly— “Are you hungry?”

He stood and pulled a piece of bread from the sack on the bench.

Leora shook her head, having no appetite, and cringed when a dull pain throbbed in her head. It brought with it a wave of lightheadedness and she reached out to her husband. “Noble.”

He was at her side in an instant, crouching down beside her, and his arm going around her waist. “The ride was too much for you.”

“But necessary,” she said, “or we would be caught in this chilling downpour.”

Noble glanced around, better able to see the inside of the cottage now with the fire burning brightly. The bed was broken in pieces, some probably now burning in the hearth. There was no place comfortable enough for his wife to sleep, let alone rest. The earthen floor would hold a chill and they had only one blanket between them.

“I think sleep would be best for me,” Leora said and looked around, then laughed softly. “How foolish of me to expect a bed, but, oh, how I wish there was one. I would love to just melt into a soft mattress right now.”

“I cannot give you soft, but I can give you something to melt against,” Noble said and carried the other surviving bench to set it against the wall near the hearth.

He then helped his wife to her feet and with his arm around her waist, guided her to sit on the bench. He took the bench she had been sitting on and placed it beside her. Making sure the lone blanket was snug around her, he sat and gently eased her into the crook of his arm so she could relax comfortably against him.

She thought of telling him that she could sleep braced against the wall, that she did not need him, but the steady beat of his heart was a soothing melody in her ear and the warmth and strength of his body were far too comfortable to relinquish, and she was far too tired to argue. So, she held her tongue and accepted the comfort her husband offered her.

Noble was surprised his wife did not protest and refuse his offer of what comfort he could provide, but then her fatigue gave her little choice. She was soon asleep, her breathing steady, her body limp against his. She needed rest and he could use some himself. He hoped the rain would end before morning so they could continue on their way, though he planned on stopping at the abbey to give Leora a chance to rest in an actual bed before they reached their destination.

He rested his head against the wall, a vine poking at him, but he ignored it. He had slept in far worse conditions and various positions. This was bearable. Besides, he enjoyed the feel of his wife in his arms, her body tucked against his. He had not expected to feel that way and it was a nice surprise to learn he enjoyed holding his wife.

A yawn escaped him, and he let himself drift off to sleep, knowing morning would come soon enough.

A shiver woke him that wasn’t his and for a moment he thought he was in a field of spring flowers on an unusually warm day, the familiar scent invading his senses and feeling a comforting warmth wrapped around him while a slight weight lingered between his legs that had aroused his shaft. He opened his eyes to find his head resting on the top of his wife’s head. She was snug in the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder, her body tight against his and her hand was the weight he felt resting on his shaft. Her intimate yet innocent touch aroused him even more and he gently raised his head to take a needed breath and calm his rising arousal.

She raised her head as he did and her eyes drifted open to meet his and their lips were so close that they nearly touched. He thought of kissing her, wanted to kiss her, and he thought he saw the same desire in her eyes. He was about to do just that when she turned her head away, and suddenly realizing where her hand lay, she yanked it away as if rescuing it from a burning hearth and moved away from him.

“I’m cold,” she said, once again doing what started the awkward moment, shivering.

Noble said nothing. He stood and went to the hearth, only embers left, and added more of the broken pieces of furniture, concerned there would not be enough to keep the fire going until morning. He stood when he finished and listened. The wind continued to whip at the cottage and rain continued to pound it, and he saw that in the far corner of the room the rain was dripping in through the worn thatching.

Leora watched her husband. There was a slow stretch to his body as he tended the fire in the hearth. His defined muscles shifted with strength in his arms and legs as if in perfect precision, as if he commanded them. And when he stood, his body seemed to devour the small room, his chest expanding, his shoulders drawing back, and his stance powerful. She should fear him but instead she found him appealing, a definite shock to her senses.

“Are you unwell, Leora?” Noble asked.

He was suddenly in front of her, crouching down, taking her hand in his.

“You look a bit pale. Does your head continue to pain you?” he asked.

Concern. She heard concern in his voice. He cared when she was in pain just as he had cared enough to comfort her when she had suffered a nightmare and not because it was his duty as a husband.

“Leora?”

She realized she hadn’t answered him, realized how pleasant her hand felt in the strength of his, realized she missed the warmth and comfort of his arms and his usual scent of pungent pine and burning wood. And she realized that for a moment, only a moment, when she woke and found her lips so close to his that she wanted to kiss him, and she thought she saw in his eyes that he felt the same. And she would have kissed him if common sense hadn’t intervened, or was it fear that had forced her to turn away from him?

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