Page 11 of When a Warrior Woos a Lass
Her lips parted, but then she snapped her jaw shut and turned her face from him. He gently released her, studying her stunning profile as she stared out at the loch. The water lapped against the birlinn, and the breeze gusted around them, a warning of turbulent weather to come. Seeing her shiver once more, he stripped off his plaid but did not dare lay it on her shoulders. He’d not been joking about his bollocks. They’d tightened painfully in defense of being struck, and he’d not chance fate again.
“I’m glad to see ye’re nae afraid to guard yerself,” he said as a way of breaking the silence and hopefully easing her embarrassment.
“I was nae ever afraid,” she said in a hard voice. “Just nae a clot-heid. I kenned well my limits against Findlay, and I learned when to simply submit to the abuse he wanted to heap on me.”
“If he were still alive, I’d rip out his heart with my bare hands,” Alex said matter-of-factly.
She turned to him, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “That’s rather barbaric of ye, but I find I like that ye would do so. I wonder,” she said, “does that make me barbaric?”
“Nay. That makes ye long for justice. Lena?” he asked, when she looked away again.
“Aye?”
The one word was cold, and he could sense her withdrawing from him. “Look at me, please.”
Again, she slowly turned her face to him, and the sight of her filled him with wonder. She was exquisite in her vulnerability and her defiance as the two combated for dominance over her. He could see it in the stubborn tilt of her chin and the way she nibbled on her lower lip. “I will nae ever knowingly hurt ye. I vow this upon my life.”
She pursed her lips for a moment before speaking. “There’s hurting the heart and there’s hurting the body. Which are ye vowing to nae do knowingly?”
He smiled at his very exact wife. He had not known she possessed that trait until now, but he liked it very much. “Both,” he said. Yet as the word left his mouth, he knew it partially false. His mission for the king would hurt her, and he knew it. But he had no choice, and he could not tell her because of his vow. Somehow, he had to make her keep faith in him when the time came that she would surely lose it. Guilt washed over him, and he held up his plaid to both offer her warmth and garner time to decide how to proceed.
When she nodded her consent, he stepped closer to her and slowly brought the plaid around her with one hand, using the other to situate it. Her silky hair slid against his fingers as he covered her delicate shoulders. He was acutely aware of every time his hands brushed against her, and his body responded with swift desire. Desire, he was painfully mindful, that could not be acted upon tonight. When his plaid was in place, she grasped each side and wrapped it more tightly around her.
He looked at her bundled in his plaid, her hair bunched up under the material, her eyes luminous, her lips parted, and the sculpted angles of her face shadowed by the night, and his heart tugged. He stilled with the feeling, unable to tear his gaze from her. This woman, this intelligent, proud, wary woman, was his wife. He was responsible for her happiness and her safety. He felt choked by the realization. He could not help but feel he’d been given a gift he did not deserve, yet she was his to keep and he intended to take as much care as possible with her.
Swallowing, he reached toward her. When he saw her flinch, he said, “I’m just going to release yer hair from being trapped under my plaid.”
She regarded him quizzically for a moment, but then she nodded.
“I feel like I’ve achieved a small victory,” he admitted with a smile, gently sweeping her hair out of his plaid.
When she looked up at him and smiled, warmth spread through him. “I dunnae mean to flinch,” she said, so low it was nearly a whisper. “I hope—” She started to turn her face away, but he caught her under the chin with a single finger.
“It would please me greatly if ye would look at me when ye talk to me,” he said taking care to temper his tone.
When she nodded again, he released her immediately. “I hope,” she said once more, “that someday I will nae flinch. It is nae ye. I believe ye when ye say ye would never deliberately harm me in body or heart.”
The guilt from moments before resurfaced like an enormous wall of water rising from a stormy ocean. “About that,” he said.
She frowned. “Aye?”
“I ken I may be harming ye soon in the heart,” he spit out, not seeing any delicate way of putting it.
“And how is it ye would be doing that?” Her hands came to her hips in an irritated gesture he recognized from his own spitfire sister. He didn’t mind it. He was actually glad to see some of the grit he knew was inside Lena finally being directed outward.
He could not offer her the truth, but he would get as close to it as he could. “I need to go see the Steward.”
“Why?” she fairly growled, but then her eyes popped wide. “Alex, surely ye are nae planning to take up with the Steward because King David took away yer castle. Ye kinnae do such a thing!”
“I’m nae taking up with the Steward. I vow it,” he assured her.
She looked at him with a distinctly suspicious look. “If ye are nae joining him, then why do ye need to go see him?” It was an accusation as much as a question.
“I kinnae tell ye the why of it, but ye must trust me.”
“Why, pray tell?” she demanded.
He opened his mouth to answer but realized he did not have a reason he himself would believe if it were given to him. Still, he needed her trust. “Because I ask it of ye as my wife,” he said simply.
