She nodded.
Once she did as he asked, he started their descent though it didn’t go as easily as he had hoped, and the darkness didn’t help. Pine needles poked and jabbed her injured arm, and by the time they reached the bottom branch, he could feel that her strength had waned.
He held her tight and, with one hand, took hold of the last branch to lower them to the ground. Her body went limp in his arms, and he knew she had fainted. He didn’t hesitate. He eased her over his shoulder and got them quickly to the ground.
T
he pain woke Bliss, her eyes springing open. She lay next to a crackling campfire, a blanket beneath her and another one covering her. Her cloak was gone and the sleeve on her right arm was ripped wide, exposing her wound.
“You’re awake,” Trey said, bending down beside her.
“I fainted?” She reached out anxiously for his hand. “I have never fainted.”
As soon as his hand took hold of hers, she calmed, and her apprehension began to dissipate.
“You had good reason; a small part of the arrow splintered and broke off in your arm.”
“That explains the pain,” she said. “You’ll need to remove it.”
“Already done,” he said with a smile. “I thought it best to get it done before you came to though it wasn’t difficult. I got a good grip on the small piece, gave a tug, and it was out.”
She looked quickly at her arm. “Bleeding?”
“Not as much as I expected. I was just about to clean and bandage it for you.”
She smiled. “I see that I am in capable hands.”
“Aye, you are,” he confirmed with a smile.
His confidence eased her concern, and she allowed herself to rest as she watched him work. He bent over her, his focus intense, his touch gentle. She had studied his face often when she had helped heal him. You could tell much by watching a face. And even though he had been unconscious through most of the healing process, his face had shown discomfort, pain, worry, sorrow. But now—now she saw concern there, and it was for her.
He genuinely cared, and he was upset over her suffering, as if he suffered along with her. This caring part of him seemed in such contrast to his warrior side. He had taken two lives a short time ago, and now those same hands were gentle and healing.
He was a good man, this husband of hers, and the more time she spent with him, the more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She still wished she could see beyond these moments, but visions of him came sparingly.
“I’m afraid I have to tear a piece of cloth from your other sleeve to use as a bandage,” he said. “But worry not; I’ll see that another blouse is stitched for you.”
She did not object to his kind offer and she was resting her hand on his arm to thank him when a vision struck. It was of the same woman, and this time he hugged her close, the pain and hurt so strong on his face that it stabbed at Bliss’s heart.
“Whatever you saw troubles you, I can see it in your eyes.”
How odd that he could read her face as easily as she read his. She wasn’t ready to share her visions of him and another woman just yet. She wondered if she would ever be ready, but, then, that was nonsense. Her destiny was written, and she must follow it whether it included Trey or not. It was simply the way of things, and she could not bemoan it—or so she tried to convince herself.
“A vision too obscure to understand,” she said.
“Not all visions are clear?” he asked, tearing the piece of cloth he needed and beginning to bandage her arm.
No one ever discussed her visions with her. They seemed afraid to do so, which left her feeling alone much of the time. She could not believe how easily Trey talked about the subject or that he was interested in doing so.
“Some are a challenge to understand,” she said.
“But you embrace them anyway, don’t you?”
“I really don’t have a choice. It is hard to ignore them.”
He finished tying off the strips of cloth he used to keep the bandage in place. He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. “That must be a terrible burden.”
There was something in the blue and green hues of his eyes that captivated. She couldn’t quite explain it, wasn’t sure what she saw, she only knew that it held more power than anything she had ever known, and, for a moment, it frightened her.
“At times,” she said, turning her head to glance at the fire.
“You’re tired and no doubt hungry.”
“More so one than the other,” she said.
“Regardless, you’ll need to eat to keep up your strength, or so says my mum,” he said with a laugh, “though her cooking was not easy to stomach.”
His laugh brought a smile to her face. And she wondered how he had deduced that she’d be more tired than hungry. Then again, it would seem the more reasonable choice after all they had been through today. Still, his strong intuitiveness nagged at her.
Her yawn was another indication that the long day had caught up with her.
“The only strength left me is sleep,” she said.
“First, a piece of bread and cheese to sustain you,” he cajoled, searching through the sack.
He found the items and, after setting them near her side, moved to sit behind her. He slipped his hands ever so gently beneath her back and lifted her to sit between his spread legs and rest in the crook of his shoulder. He then reached for the food and split it between them, his one arm remaining firmly around her.
He took the liberties of a husband, sitting them intimately together and making no apology for it. Of course he was her husband, though the truth of it was that their marriage had not been consummated, so one could argue their union was not recognized.
And so she said after a nibble of cheese, “This is all so strange.”
“It seems natural to me.”
“It is natural to wed someone, unaware that you did, to do all you can to keep your unexpected bride safe, and to tend her when she foolishly falls down a hill?”
“The force of the arrow caused you to stumble; foolishness had nothing to do with it,” he said. “And as for keeping you safe, it is no chore, though I didn’t keep my bride safe enough, or she would never have tumbled down the hill.”
“These are troubling times in the Highlands—the winds of change blow heavily, leaving debris and hardship in their path. You protect me when it is not your duty—”
“You can argue that point all you like, but it
is
my duty, and I will see it done.”
“You have another duty that comes first,” she reminded.
“I need no reminder that I serve the true king and will see him safely seated on the throne. I am well aware of what my duties are and where and when I am needed. And how do you know that I am not on a mission and that being wed to you provides me with the excuse needed to accomplish it.”
She tilted her head to the side to study him. His eyes were as compelling as ever, and, before they could befuddle her senses, she said, “I have seen nothing to indicate that.”
“And if that was the case, it is well that you don’t.” His finger pressed against her lips as soon as she opened them to respond. “Leave it be. And let this arrangement serve us well for now.”
Bliss shrugged and pushed his hand away. “There is no harm in that. After all, how meaningful are vows when they are yet to be consummated?”
He rested his lips near her temple, and whispered, “I can rectify that very easily.”
“Why?”
The simple question brought a smile to his lips. “Need I explain?”
“Aye, please do,” she said.
“You’re serious?”
“Of course I am. Why consummate vows you never plan to honor?”
His expression darkened. “I would honor my vows.”
“Because you consummated them, not because of love?”
He shook his head. “You’re complicating things.”
“Love does that; it complicates.”
“No it doesn’t,” he argued. “Love is simple.”
She laughed. “You are a fool if you believe that.”
“I not only believe it, I lived it,” he said with a thump to his chest. “I once loved deeply, and it was not complicated. She loved me, and I loved her. There was no question about it. No need for concern. Love was there in our hearts, in our actions, in our words. Nothing could take it from us, nothing but—death.”
He moved her gently aside, stood and walked around to the other side of the campfire, and sat.
“I am sorry for your loss,” she said, “though I know those words bring little comfort. I truly am sorry. I cannot imagine your pain.”
“There is no healing it,” he said, stretching out on the blanket and pillowing his arms beneath his head. “A wound to the body heals given time. The pain fades and returns no more. Not so when you lose someone you love. You think the pain gone, then it surfaces once more and hurts all over again.”
She could not stand to see the suffering in his eyes, and so she said what she sensed. “Your pain will go away and never will you feel it again.”
He turned on his side, his eyes locking with hers. “Promise.”
“Aye, that I can promise you.”
“How can that be?”
“I do not know,” she said. “I cannot explain it. I can only tell you that it will come to pass.”
“Soon?”
“Aye, soon,” she said, and felt a stabbing pain to her heart.
“I wish I could believe you, but the only way for my pain to go away is for Leora to return to me, and she can’t. She’s dead.” He dropped back on the blanket. “Sleep and rest so that we can get an early start in the morning.”
Bliss eased herself down on the blanket, her arm paining her. She lay there trying to heal her wound, but found it difficult to concentrate. Her thoughts continued to return to Trey and what she had sensed. How could his pain ever heal when the woman he loved was dead? Of course he could find love again, but would that heal his old wound or simply make it easier to live with?
An icy shiver ran through her, and she shuddered as another vision assaulted her. This time she saw only the blond woman. She was reaching out, calling for Trey, tears streaming down her cheeks, begging him to help her.
She heard herself whimper and felt her body shudder again, but try as she might, she could not escape the vision. She was trapped, just like the woman.
Her whole body jolted, and she was yanked out of the vision so sharply that she cried out.
“I’ve got you. You’re all right,” Trey whispered in her ear as he held her snug against him.
She realized then that he lay stretched out beside her. His warmth flooded her and began to chase away the chill that seemed to run deep into her bones, and she didn’t want his arms, so hard with muscles, ever to let her go.
She was grateful he lay wrapped around her. She had never experienced a vision like that before. Never had she felt trapped in one. The visions came suddenly, and often without warning, and left just as suddenly. But never, ever had a vision trapped her.
She shivered with fear.
Trey gently stroked her back. “You’re safe. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, pressing her face in the crook of his neck.
“Why? Tell me what frightened you,” he urged.
She slowly eased her head back to look up at him and was grateful for the concern she saw there, but more so for the indomitable strength she forever saw in his eyes. He made her feel safe.
“Tell me,” he urged again.
“I was trapped,” she said softly.
“Where?”
“In a vision.” She shivered again, and he instantly pressed his lips to her brow.
“I pulled you out,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “You are safe, and I will see that you stay that way.”
She grasped hold of his shirt. “I have never been trapped in a vision. If you hadn’t pulled me out, I don’t know how I would have gotten out.”
“Tell me about this vision.”
She shook her head. “No, I do not want to get pulled back again.”
He pressed her cheek to hers. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything. And if you were to get pulled back in, I would pull you free again. So do not worry.”
“How would you know I was trapped—how
did
you know I was trapped?”
“I didn’t know. I thought you suffered a bad dream. But I know now, and I know what to do, grab hold of you and hold you tight.”
Bliss cuddled closer though she was already firm against him. She needed to feel his thick muscles pressed against her, feel his warmth, and share his strength, his courage. She didn’t want him to leave her side. She wanted him right there beside her all night. But how did she ask him to stay?
With courage, she said, “You’ll stay with me tonight?”
“I had no intentions of going anywhere. It is in my arms you’ll be sleeping tonight.”
She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I am grateful.”
“I am here for you,
wife,
whenever you need me.”
T
rey and Bliss woke with the sunrise and were on their way. Trey would have preferred Bliss rest in his arms, but that wouldn’t have been a prudent decision. Once the two soldiers were missed, others would be sent. It was inevitable that they would run across the king’s soldiers again. And the more soldiers, the more victory favored them.
He wished they hadn’t had to rush. He liked waking up with Bliss wrapped in his arms, her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder. She seemed to belong there.
Where Leora once rested.
The thought had only now crept up on him. Unusual, since Leora had been first on his mind every morning he had wakened, since her death . . . how long now?
He shook his head. He had faithfully counted the passing days, as if hoping he would somehow reach the end of his misery. Had that been today? Had sleeping wrapped around Bliss made a difference? Had feeling connected to another woman helped heal his pain?
A sudden memory sprang up that chilled him to the bone. He recalled meeting an old woman, a seer he thought, though he learned later that she was believed a witch. She had pertinent news of Reeve’s wife, Tara. She also had predictions for him, warning him that he would suffer great injury and that when he woke from healing, he would gaze upon the face of his future wife. He had shared all the information with his brothers, feeling somewhat of a fool for rattling on about gazing upon his future bride when he woke and learned it had been Bliss. He shook his head again. The seer had been so accurate; all her predictions had come true. How was it possible for a person to peer into the future like the seer did . . . like Bliss did?
“You debate yourself?” Bliss asked.
Trey sent her a questionable glance.
She smiled. “You keep shaking your head, stop, then shake it again. You must be debating something with yourself.”
He grinned. “It’s a good debate I often have.”
“Who wins?”
He laughed and thumped his chest. “I do, every time.”
Her laughter warmed his heart, a heart that, he could not deny, was beginning to feel again. And for the first time in what seemed a very long time, he wanted it to.
“Could we stop for a few moments?” she asked.
“Your arm pains you?” he asked concerned.
“My stomach,” she said with a smile.
He nodded. “You’re hungry.”
“So are you.”
“You know that?” He shook his head again. “You heard my stomach protesting.”
She laughed. “Quite loudly though you were too deep in thought to pay heed to it.”
A matter he had to rectify. He could not keep getting lost in his thoughts and fail to pay heed to his surroundings. It had already proven dangerous; he did not want it to turn fatal.
He found a spot beneath a towering pine that had shed enough needles to provide a nice cushion for them to sit on.
They shared the last of the food, having determined that it would take perhaps three hours or less to reach their destination. Then food and shelter would be no problem. Once finished there, they could start their journey to MacAlpin keep, where he could see she was kept safe.
“What is it that so often steals your thoughts?”
Her question startled him, especially since he wasn’t prepared to answer it. But how did he avoid it?
“It does not involve the true king,” she said, staring at him strangely.
“You intrude where not invited,” he snapped, not wanting her to know his private concerns.
“My apologizes,” she said, and turned her head away from him.
A twinge of guilt struck him, not for warning her about intruding on his thoughts but for snapping so sharply at her.
“There are things that are private,” he said in way of an apology though he would not offer one. He did not want her to know his every thought, and she had to realize that.
“I understand,” she said.
He didn’t like that she kept her head turned away from him. He reached out, his hand slipping beneath her chin to gently turn her face.
She avoided his eyes, and he didn’t like it. “If you’re angry with me, have your say and be done with it.”
“I am not angry,” she said her glance finally falling on him. “But it is difficult for me to avoid your thoughts when you so easily open them to me.”
“You know all my thoughts?”
“Not all. Some come jumbled though I don’t know why, while others are clear, as if you are speaking to me. I don’t understand it myself. Usually, I sense or have a vision, or I hear a thought or two.” She shook her head. “Not so with you. I have seen and sensed more than most with you.”
“I cannot have you knowing my every thought. It could prove dangerous for you,” he said, and difficult for him. What would happen when he got the urge to kiss her? Or his thoughts turned intimate. What then? “How do we stop this?”
Her surprised, steady gaze was enough to let him know that she had heard his thoughts. And there was only one thing to do. He cupped her chin, tilted her head up, and kissed her.
H
is kiss was as confident as his stance and his stride. This was a man who knew what he wanted, and he wanted her. The overwhelming sensation of his desire and the rise of her passion melted away any doubts that this was wrong.
Bliss did something she rarely did—she let herself be carried away. She surrendered to her senses instead of relying on them. Soon, nothing but the kiss filled her head. It was the most freeing feeling she had ever experienced. And she didn’t want it to end; she wanted nothing more than to linger and enjoy it.
After bringing the kiss to an end, he teased her bottom lip with nibbles and in between asked, “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?”
“Befuddled,” she murmured, her mind and senses dwelling on the kiss and his tormenting nibbles.
“My kiss bewildered you?” he asked with a prideful laugh.
“It did, it has, it does,” she said, her rambling words proving truthful.
He laughed again, kissed her hard, and hugged her tight. “We have settled our dilemma.”
Her mind had yet to clear, and so she asked, “How?”
“It is simple,” he boasted. “I will kiss you whenever you sense too much about me.”
The idea startled her though she could not say she opposed it. She did, however, want to know, “But do you want to kiss me?”
He laughed again. “It has proven successful already. You have forgotten.”
She smiled. “I remember now. I sensed that you
wanted
to kiss me.”
“And so I did, without objection from you.”
“It was most pleasant,” she said, “and gave my mind rest.”
“Then since I
wanted
to kiss you, and you
wished
me to kiss you, we have no problem in how to settle this dilemma.”
It seemed reasonable enough though she was concerned with where it might lead. But they would not be together long. Even though his intentions were to return her home with him, she had different plans. She would go to her home and remain there with her people. They would protect her, and it would give her time to think about Trey. Nothing made sense when it came to him, not her vision, not her knowing, nothing, and she needed to make sense of it before she lost all sound reason and did something unwise.
“For now,” she said. “But time may show us otherwise.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is up to time; it is not for me to say.”
“You speak in riddles,” he said.
“It will make sense soon enough.”
He shook his head. “You confuse.”
She laughed. “It is the way I often feel.”
He stroked her cheek. “How difficult it must be for you.”
No one had ever cared how she felt. What mattered was what she could tell people. What they wanted to hear. What they needed to know. Her grandmum had told her that she would be condemned more than revered. And that life would prove difficult for her unless . . . she was lucky enough to have someone understand and love her for who she was.
She could not help but wonder if Trey could be that man.
“Sometimes more than others,” she answered. She thought he would kiss her then, he leaned in close. But a noise startled them both, and they jumped apart.
Trey’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, and he cast a cautious glance around.
“Animals at play,” she said.
“You know this?”
She pointed to two squirrels scrambling along the branch of a tree.
He shook his head and stood. “We have wasted enough time.”
Was that what he thought of their time together—wasted? She knew before the thought was finished that it was not what he meant. He was concerned for her. It showed in his eyes and his touch. He reached out and took her hand as he always did, as if by simply holding on to her, he could keep her safe.
Bliss wasn’t so sure. As much as she wanted to believe their time together would be over soon, and she could go home as planned, she didn’t see it that way. What was it that would keep them together, at least for a time? And why did she try so hard to deny it?
He stood, reached down, and grabbed her around the waist, but before he lifted her gently to her feet, he asked, “How is your arm?”
“It heals well,” she assured him. The little healing she had done on it had helped greatly.
He lifted her, settling her in front of him, his hands remaining at her waist. “We need to be on our way.”
She was growing much too accustomed to his touch. His hands were always there to help her, and she found herself relying on him. It seemed strange, yet so right.
“Aye, I agree,” she said. “A storm will break soon enough.”
“There isn’t a cloud in the sky.” He smiled, though as they took a few steps, the first gray cloud raced overhead, and others soon followed.
Bliss shivered, not from a chill but the portent of the darkening sky.
T
rey kept close watch on Bliss as they made their way along a well-traveled path. He had thought to travel the woods rather than a worn path, but with the terrain rough and her wound so fresh, he felt in the end it would only slow them down.
He also wanted to reach her friend’s before the storm broke, and so the well-traveled road was a quicker route. Or perhaps it was he who needed the familiar road, feeling in unfamiliar territory with Bliss.
She was different in many ways and yet so familiar in others. When he had kissed her . . . his groin had tightened, a common enough reaction, and yet he had thought only on the kiss, nothing beyond that. It had been—he almost laughed aloud, for the kiss had been magical just like Bliss herself.
But how to deal with magic? Women could be complicated creatures on their own; add magic, and what then? There was much besides the kiss to consider, and the only way he could conceive of making sense of it was to pursue it. And he truly did look forward to the pursuit.
The weather did not favor them, rain starting to fall when they were not far from their destination. By the time they arrived at her friend’s cottage, they were nearly soaked through.
A sharp crack of thunder heralded them through the door, and they both stood silent after first glance. The cottage was empty.
Trey went to the fireplace and after examining the half-burnt log and ashes, said, “This has been cold for some time.” He grabbed kindling from the nearby basket and soon had a fire going.
Bliss moved close to the hearth, rainwater dripping from her cloak and down her face from her wet hair. She held her hands out to the heat, her eyes fixed on the leaping flames.
Trey remained silent though deep in thought. Had her friend died because of their delay? If not, where could she have gone? Bliss would surely blame herself if anything had happened to the woman.
He wanted to comfort her, and so he reached out to take her hands in his. He was stunned when she not only pulled away from him but turned and walked away. He could well understand her upset, but her rebuff disturbed him.
“Bliss, you—”
She didn’t turn around, her back remained to him, and she shook her head and, with a snap of her hand, warded off his words. He bristled at her sharp dismissal. He offered comfort and help, and she rejected both. He turned around, hunched down and stoked the fire, the flames heating his annoyance.
Damn, but he was irritated. He didn’t want her to shoulder this responsibility alone. He had had a hand in their delay. It wasn’t entirely her fault.
He almost jumped when her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. He looked up and grew even angrier though this time with himself. She looked exhausted, her face pale, and she shivered.
“Thank you,” she said, “for remaining quiet and giving me the time I needed to
sense
what had happened to my friend.”
He felt like kicking himself for his foolishness. He had allowed his own misgivings to interfere when his only concern should have been for her. How many times would he need to remind himself that she was unlike other women? How long would it take for him to truly get to know his
wife
?
“She is well?” he asked standing and reaching out to slip her wet cloak off her shoulders.
“She was too ill to leave on her own. My people have taken her to my cottage and will look after her until my arrival.”
“Two days at least to get there,” he reminded, draping her cloak on the back of a chair near the fire.
“She is in good hands and should do well until I arrive though I feel that she will need to stay with my people or perhaps seek shelter with yours. She should not live alone any longer. Dolca needs family.”
“She is welcome in my home,” Trey assured her.
“No doubt she will be,” Bliss said with a shiver.
“You need to get warm,” he said, reaching out to rub some heat into her arms. His hands met wet wool. “And you need to get out of those wet clothes.”
“As do you,” she said, grabbing a handful of his shirt and squeezing the rainwater from it.
“We’re a good pair,” he said with a laugh. “Wet—”
“Tired.”
“And hungry,” he finished.
“Dolca should have food about, and she might have left a garment behind”—Bliss grinned—“though I daresay none that would fit you.”