Page 49 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

“Aye, we’ll come back,” Raven heard Laurel say. There was some giggling as Arne shut the door and turned to her. Expecting him to laugh, she was dismayed to see the coldness was back.

“What’s wrong,” she asked, confused at his drastic change in mood.

“Whatever happened just then, forget it. And just remember, this daesnae change anything between us. We’re nae a good idea, Raven.”

In her vulnerable state, the cruel words stung Raven deeply. “I dinnae understand. Just now, ye were…” she began, her voice trailing off as he glowered at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“’Tis fer the best,” he told her gruffly.

Burning from the humiliating rejection, without another word, she went to the door and opened it. Thankfully, the maids had gone. She shut Arne’s door and ran across to her room. Once inside, she locked her own door behind her.

For the second time that day, she gave way to bitter tears over Arne MacLeod.

Arne tossed and turned all that night, feeling terrible about the way he had humiliated Raven. He was shocked at himself for leading her on like that quite deliberately, flaunting his naked body, his arousal, then leaving her so vulnerable when they had been interrupted by the maids. None of it had been her fault.

He had been totally caught up in the pent-up passion of the moment, wanting her desperately, and there was no doubt in his mind they would have ended up in bed together if the maids had not disturbed them. That had been like a cold shower, jolting him back to reality.

The barriers had suddenly come up again. He had been furious with himself for allowing his desire for her to overwhelm him like that. He had been furious with her for… for being so desirable and making him want her so much. He honestly did not know how he was going to face her again after what had happened.

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, after a couple of generous drams of whisky, he fell into a fitful sleep where he was plagued by nightmares.

When he awoke, he had his duties to see too, and he managed to avoid Raven altogether until Thorsten’s bedtime rolled around. He came face to face with her in the hallway outside their son’s chambers.

Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes dull and sad. She looked as if she had not slept either. She stood stiffly, her chin high and proud, her hands clasped at her waist. She looked at him unsmiling, and she spoke to him with cold civility.

“Since I’ll be leavin’ soon, I’d like yer permission tae put Thorsten tae bed this evenin’ like ye dae. I dinnae ken when I’ll be seein’ him again.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Arne agreed. How could he not? But he almost regretted it when they went in, and he witnessed Raven’s extraordinary bond with their son. She sat where he usually sat, on the bed, cradling Thorsten next to her as she read him one of his favorite stories. It was about a brave princess who saved a prince from a dragon who was holding him captive and planned to eat him.

The little boy cuddled up to her in perfect contentment, sucking his finger in concentration and laughing at the funny voices she put on for all the different characters, just as Arne himself would do. Watching their two black, shining heads so close together and the tender way she stroked Thorsten’s hair, making sure he was warm and comfortable before she kissed him goodnight unleashed a fresh storm of emotions within Arne.

He finally admitted the truth he had been trying to deny since pulling her from the sea half dead. For all the walls he had built around his heart to protect himself, he had never stopped loving her.

They went down to dinner in tense silence. At dinner, the self-recrimination returned with a vengeance. His heart ached when she sat next to him and hardly spoke to him throughout the whole meal, while chatting easily with Haldor and Sofia and the other guests. He bent over his plate, pushing his food around, wanting to speak to her but not daring to.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed she hardly ate anything, He felt like a monster for making her so unhappy. But he justified his behavior by telling himself it was better this way. If he gave into his feelings, she would only hurt him again.

However, at one point during the meal, Haldor had spoken to him quietly. “What’s the matter between ye and Raven?” he asked. “I thought ye were gettin’ along better.”

“We are,” Arne lied, determined not to admit what had happened. He could see Sofia watching him too, which made him feel even more awkward.

“Och, aye, I can see that. She’s nae spoken a word tae ye, and ye willnae even look at her. And ye both look like death warmed over. What’s goin’ on?”

Arne squirmed in his seat. “Naethin’ serious, I tell ye. We just had a few cross words, that’s all,” he hedged, hoping to shut his brother up. He should have known better.

“Look, Braither, let me give ye a bit of unasked fer advice. Raven will be leavin’ here soon, but while she’s been here, she’s proved herself a good and loving mother tae Thorsten. Even if ye cannae let go of yer mistrust of her, ye should put it aside fer his sake. Whatever ye’ve argued about, I suggest apologize tae her.”

Arne knew he was right, but it still rankled.

“Why d’ye nae take her fer a wee stroll after dinner? ’Tis a fine evenin’. Take her somewhere private and bury the hatchet. Mark me words, ye’ll feel much better afterwards.”

“Ach, alright,” Arne agreed finally. “I’ll ask her, but ’tis nae guarantee she’ll

say yes,” he grumbled.

“Just try it,” Haldor finished with an encouraging smile before turning back to the general conversation.

Arne waited on tenterhooks for dinner to end, gathering his courage, waiting for the right moment to speak to her. When she looked as though she was about to leave, he saw his chance.

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