Page 10 of When a Warrior Woos a Lass
He focused on her once more. Her shoulders were hunched forward, whether against the wind that had increased or out of sorrow, he didn’t know. He moved to go to her, to give in to the urge, but hesitated. Would she welcome his comfort or would it make things worse for her? He wanted to touch her, but he knew it scared her. She had shown some signs of finding his touch pleasing, though.
“Dunnae let yer demons put a divide between ye and yer new wife.”
Alex turned to find Donald standing behind him. The man was a few inches shorter than him, with silver hair and a silver beard. His sharp gray eyes studied Alex.
“It is nae just my demons, Auld Man,” Alex replied, using the teasing moniker he often did when speaking to Donald, who was fifteen summers his senior. It was one of friendship and not contempt.
Donald scrubbed a hand across his beard. “What happened to her?” he asked, jerking his head to indicate Lena, his deep voice almost a grumble.
Alex’s chest squeezed. “She was married to a man who abused her something fierce.”
“So was yer sister before Lachlan, and it did nae stop her from wanting to be near him once they were married. What makes ye believe yer new wife dunnae wish for yer company?”
Alex glanced around to ensure no one was near. All his men were concentrated on their assigned tasks on the ship, all the men except Broch MacLeod, that was. Iain had insisted Broch join them, no doubt because Iain was unsure what was going on in Alex’s head that made him behave so unlike himself. Alex wasn’t angry that Broch was there, even if the man was staring a hole through him. It was good he would be accompanying Lena to Alex’s home. It may be that he’d need to send Lena back to the safety of her brothers if anything went wrong once he went to the Steward’s home, and Broch could take her for him.
“Did ye hear my question?” Donald demanded, twisting his face with an impatient look.
Alex fought against a smile. He liked that his men were not afraid of him. He’d striven for it to be that way. One of the most valuable lessons he’d learned from his da—and that also played out before his eyes during his time as an apprentice to Gillis Stewart—was that fear did not earn true loyalty. Fear gave a man obedience until the men that feared him grew strong enough to defy him. Fear did not create bonds but severed them. His da’s men had been loyal through good and bad, certainty and uncertainty, because Da had been fair and just, and had treated them with respect. Gillis, however, had treated those he’d apprenticed as worthless animals who were there for his pleasure and bidding, and Gillis had died by the hands of one he sought to use.
“Alex?” Donald asked, concern threading his tone.
“She fears a man’s touch,” he finally answered, rubbing at the knots in the back of his neck.
“Ahh,” Donald said, drawing the word out. “Then touch her with care, but touch her ye must.”
Alex nodded. He knew it well. They were not bound in the eyes of the church nor the king until Alex joined with her, and if they were not true husband and wife, other men, such as the Campbells, could still try to lay claim to her. Though, they would have no way of proving Alex had not joined with her since she’d been with a man before. The reminder filled his mouth with the bitter taste of hatred for Findlay.
“I’ll make her my wife by God’s law, but nae tonight,” Alex said. “I fear she’d sooner throw herself into the loch than allow me to make her mine.”
Donald quirked his bushy eyebrows. “Sounds like ye need lessons on how to properly woo a lass, then,” he teased.
Alex chuckled, but then it suddenly occurred to him that he actually never had attempted to woo a lass. The longest relationship he’d had—though it was more of a torrid, repeated joining than a relationship—had been with Euphemia, Gillis’s widow and now the Steward’s wife. There had been no wooing between them, only a recognition of a mutual darkness and desire. The other women he had taken to his bed had come there not by wooing, but by seduction. To him, there was a distinct difference. Wooing seemed to inherently involve tender feelings, and he’d never had those emotions for a woman before. Dark carnal desire, yes, but the wish to kiss a lass gently, run his hands through her hair, or simply hold her hand had never been something he’d had thought to do. But now…
“Are ye contemplating how to woo yer wife?” Donald asked with his usual bluntness.
“Aye,” Alex admitted. “I do believe I’ll start now,” he murmured as he pushed away from the side of the ship and walked toward Lena.
She did not turn as he approached, so he cleared his throat in an effort to break into her thoughts but not scare her. She swiveled sharply, her eyes wide in the darkness. “I wondered if ye would come near me tonight,” she said clearly, surprising and pleasing him with her candor. He’d never had much use for subterfuge, which made his current assignment all the more ironic.
He frowned. “Why would ye believe I’d nae come to ye?”
She bit down on her lower lip as she tilted her head. “I ken ye felt ye had nary a choice but agree to marry me.”
“The words ye speak are true,” he said, wincing when she hissed in a breath. “But,” he rushed on, “I dunnae find ye displeasing, Lena. I—” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, searching for the words. “I dunnae feel I will be the best husband for ye.”
A half smirk twisted her lips. “And what sort of husband do ye feel would be best for me?”
“A gentle one,” he said immediately, relieved to have some of his fears out in the open. Some would always remain hidden, though. Never would he reveal his darkest secrets to her. He could imagine her horror, or even disgust, and he could not bear to see that on her face.
Her brows drew together, and she frowned. “Ye seem gentle to me,” she said softly.
Her admission didn’t surprise him. She knew not the demons that haunted him in the night. He needed to warn her, though. “Men are nae always what they appear, Lena.”
She shuddered as she moved a step away from him. “I ken that well, Alex. Or do ye forget I was married to Findlay? He could simper and fawn in front of others, but alone in his bedchamber—” She shook her head almost violently.
Driven by rage at Findlay and a need to make her understand he would never deliberately hurt her, Alex reached out and grabbed her arms to pull her near. She let out a guttural cry and drove her knee up toward his groin. Thank merciful God above that her heavy skirts hampered her speed. He stopped her from connecting with his manhood a whisper from his skin.
Holding her knee, he looked into his wife’s frightened eyes. “My bollocks just ran and hid for survival.”
