Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone

Fourteen

“How much farther to your destrier?” Eve asked, worry gnawing at her. The longer she was alone with Royce, the more she was revealing and the more she wanted to reveal. This man had shown her more caring, loyalty, and protectiveness than any man she had ever known. It would be so easy to fall under his spell, and she suspected she already had a bit.

“Nae far,” he answered. “’Tis one more crest and a descent, then a short trek down a wooded path, and we are there.”

She nodded and forged ahead, the battle between her mind and her heart growing to deafening proportions as she walked. Her heart bade her to tell Royce the truth of who she was. He deserved to know, and yet her head feared greatly that his honor would force him to send her back to Frederick.

Lying to this honorable man, this man who had risked his life for her, was wicked. Shame burned her gut and tightened her chest as she picked her way over the slick rock so that she could barely catch a proper breath. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she was so fearful. What if he decided that allowing her to stay put his clan at too much risk? Did it? She bit her lip as she climbed the crest, cold sweat gathering at the nape of her neck and her back. When she got to the top, she glanced over at him and found him staring at her. Her breath caught at the look in his eyes. She vowed it was longing. Was she simply seeing in him what she was feeling for him herself?

Whatever the answer was, awareness of him rippled through her, and she found her gaze falling to his lips, wondering what they would feel like on hers. Would they be strong? Would his kiss make her heart lurch, her toes curl? Would it knot her belly? She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, her body heating, her belly tightening. A look of surprise swept his face, and then his gaze fell to her mouth, soft as a caress. She shivered with yearning as his gaze raked boldly over her lips before returning to meet her eyes. She desperately wanted him to kiss her, and because she could not give in to the wanting, she frantically searched for something to say. Then it came to her from his comment earlier on betrayal.

“What you know of betrayal, was it from your father?” He had, after all, made the comment when she was speaking of her own father.

He looked contemplative for a moment, and then he shook his head. “Nay, my da is a good man. The best. He would nae ever betray me.”

“But did he tell you that lairds could not feel fear?”

Royce’s eyes widened at that, and then he smiled ruefully as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, nay, but I have nae ever seen him display fear—” He paused suddenly and frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. He took a deep breath as his frown deepened, and then he gave a gruff laugh. “Truth be told, Abigail,” he said, his gaze seeming to probe her now, “the only time I ever saw my da show fear was when it came to worry for my mam. I do believe just about the only thing that ever gave him concern was any harm or sadness to her.”

His hand had gone from the back of his neck to the stubble on his face, which he was stroking. Rather than gape at him, which she would be perfectly happy to do, she said, “Will you tell me about your family?” She’d seen the closeness between him and his brother and sister, so she imagined his entire family was that close.

“Aye,” he agreed as he motioned forward. “As we walk, though.”

So they left the rocks, and while Royce moved past her silently on the wooded path to hold branches and overgrowth out of her way, she listened to him, feeling entranced by his deep, sure voice as he spun the tale of his family.

“My da wed my mam by the request of King David, who was imprisoned by the English King at the time.”

“Truly?” she asked, trying not to stare at his muscular back as he walked in front of her, but it was difficult.

“Aye. King David asked my da to wed my mam, who was the daughter of a great English nobleman. The English king had requested it, and doing so would aid King David in being freed.”

“What did your mother think of that?” Eve asked, finding that her gaze had drifted from his very broad, perfectly formed back to his perfectly formed buttocks. Though her cheeks heated as she looked at him, she did not pull her gaze away. It might be the only time she got to gape unnoticed at such male perfection.

“Oh, she did nae want to wed him. She thought him a barbaric Highlander.” Royce stopped then and turned to grin at her.

“I don’t think you barbaric,” she protested, the heat in her face sweeping down to her neck and chest.

“Nay?” His grin widened, the devil.

“Well not anymore,” she said with a laugh, which he joined her in for a moment.

“What do ye think of me now?” he asked when his laughter had died.

The way his gaze clung to hers made her think the time for teasing had passed and that his question was of a more serious nature. But how truthful should she be?

“I think,” she said slowly, deciding to be as truthful as she could without revealing just how much he was in her thoughts, “that you are honorable and brave, and have a true heart.” His gaze softened, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated to respond in kind, so she added, “And I think you have not finished telling me of your family.”

“Ye distracted me,” he said with a wink. He turned and started walking once more, and she fell into step behind him. “My mam believed she had two choices: wed my da, who was a stranger and a barbaric Highlander, or wed the cruel English knight her da was trying to wed her to. So she wed my da. But things started a wee bit rocky for them.”

“Oh?” Eve said, trying to step over a fallen branch but setting her foot down on something sharp. She yelped and raised her stinging foot to hop on the other.

Royce swung toward her, eyebrows arched. “What’s this?” he asked, coming toward her and holding his hand out to aid her.

She immediately grasped his forearm as he clasped her and steadied her. “I think,” she said, panting from the throbbing pain, “that I punctured the sole of my foot.”

“Come,” Royce bade her, and before she could ask what he meant, he’d kneeled on the ground with his right knee bent for her to sit on and he pulled her down with an oof. Before she could protest, he clasped her ankle and tugged her foot toward him.

She was so surprised, she simply gaped as he glanced at her slipper, shook his head, and tugged it off. Then he released her foot, only to rip off a bit of material from his plaid. “Ye’ve cut yer foot. ’Tis nae so bad that ye’ll lose it,” he said, his head bent to look at her foot as he wrapped the plaid around it.

“What?” she gasped, trying to yank her leg away so she could see for herself.

He looked up then and laughed. “I’m teasing ye, Abigail. Ye have cut yer foot, but ’tis nae bad. Yer slipper is ruined, though.”

She glanced beside him at the slipper he’d thrown to the ground. “Still, I’ll need to wear it so the cut doesn’t become worse.”

He reached beside him, picked up her slipper, and held it up to her so she could see the large hole in the bottom of her very worn slipper.

“Oh,” she said and bit her lip. “I suppose I shouldn’t even bother with that shoe.”

“I do nae suppose ye should,” he replied, tossing it down once more.

“When I walk, I’ll just have to be extra careful not to—”

“Nay.”

“No?” She felt her brow wrinkle.

He set his hands suddenly to her waist, which caused her to suck in a breath, and then he lifted her as he stood and set her on her feet. He turned and crouched, putting his hands on his knees with his back to her. He glanced over his shoulder at her and said, “Climb on.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her gaze went from his broad back to the firm buttocks she was staring at before to his long, Viking-like legs.

“Is my accent too thick for ye to understand me, then, lass?” he teased. “Climb on my back.”

She knew her mouth was agape when cool air hit her teeth. “I cannot.”

“Oh, I assure ye, ye can. In fact, I insist. Either ye climb on or I’ll carry ye.” He eyed her like he meant to make good on his threat. “I could carry ye,” he continued, “but I think ye’ll be a bit safer on my back in case I lose my footing. I’d nae want to fall on top of ye.”

Her mouth parted once more as a vision of him on top of her filled her head and made her ache. Quickly, she scrambled round to his back, grabbed the hand he offered, and awkwardly climbed on with his help. With her thighs spread over his back and hips, the awareness of him, of his power, of her draw to him, became a living, breathing thing.

He slid his arms under her legs and started walking once more. Positioned as she was, all she could think of was the way his muscles moved underneath her thighs and the heat of his body against hers. She had never experienced such longing, but it was more than physical attraction. He had not spared a thought to aiding her when she was injured. He had taken the burden of carrying her on as if it were something he was more than happy to do, as someone who truly cared for another would do.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said, wanting to distract herself from thinking too much upon just him.

“Well, as I said, things started a wee rocky between my parents. My da had been wed before and did nae think he wanted to wed again after his first wife died.”

“Ah,” she said, thinking she understood. “He loved his first wife greatly and was afraid to love again? Or was it that he detested his first wife and didn’t want to take a chance on having another wife he disliked?”

Royce stopped walking and glanced back at her. “I do believe,” he said slowly, “that he did nae think himself capable of…of—”

“Of great emotion that put him at risk?” she asked, smiling at his fumbling efforts to speak of soft emotions.

He gave her what could only be described as a strange look and then said, “Aye.”

With that, he started down the path once more, speaking now of his aunts and uncles, of which he had many. She heard the love he had for them in his voice, and the importance each family member clearly held made her own longing for a family to love and love her fill her so that her throat ached with the desire to cry. She was thankful that he didn’t seem to notice her silence as he told her stories of battles fought by his uncles for the women they loved, women who had become their wives. He relayed tales of daring rescues, like the time one of his aunts was put in a cage and hung off the side of a castle rampart, and of growing up a MacLeod. They were a close clan and a lot was expected of him. She suspected his desire to live up to his father’s legend of being an all-respected clan leader drove Royce somewhat.

“My horse is just up ahead,” he said.

And then a few steps later, he let out a roar.

“I kinnae believe this,” Royce bellowed as he kneeled by his dead horse.

Eve couldn’t believe it, either. She felt horrible for the poor beast, who’d obviously been attacked by a wild animal and had been unable to get away since the horse had been tethered. She also felt a little frightened. She found herself edging closer to Royce’s large figure.

“What do you think killed your destrier?” she asked, praying they could still head for Dunvegan this night.

“Wolves,” Royce promptly answered as he stood, put a satchel over his shoulder, and withdrew his sword from its holder in the same motion. The weapon let out a zing as it was removed.

Eve moved another step closer, now feeling the heat emanating off him, but she couldn’t help herself. Fear was strumming within her. “Should we be worried?” she whispered.

He turned to look at her, and her heart flipped in her chest at how handsome he was. “It’s always wise nae to underestimate danger,” Royce said, “but I’ll build a fire, which should help to keep any wolves away, and I’ll stay awake as ye sleep. Then in the morning—”

“The morning?” she sputtered, her fear of being trapped alone here overnight with him materializing. “You don’t mean for us to sleep out here in the woods together, do you?”

“Dunvegan is too far to make it on foot tonight,” he said, looking as bothered by his words as she felt. “We could misstep and fall off a cliff,” he continued. “Or we could meet with a pack of wolves and become their next meal. I’ll nae chance yer life.”

His natural instinct to protect her warmed her way more than it should have. He was laird. He believed it his duty to protect all his clan members. Yet, she felt oddly special. Her head was surely now stuffed with feathers!

“What do we need to do?” she asked, glancing around them.

“Gather sticks for a fire. Come along,” he said, pulling her almost against his side. When she opened her mouth to protest, he said, “Lass, if ye think I’m going to let ye out of my sight, ye are sorely mistaken. I would lay down my life before risking yers, but take a care with yer foot.” With that, he turned and started collecting sticks, and she followed dutifully, feeling the smile on her lips that she could not get rid of.

His words stayed with her as they collected the wood and as she watched him build a fire, catch a rabbit they spotted, and cook it for them to eat. Sitting beside him on the rock where they’d made camp, with the crackling fire warming her face and the heat from Royce’s thigh pressed against hers warming her body, she popped another bite of the rabbit into her mouth and sighed contentedly, and she found herself sinfully imagining what it would be like if they were wed. Would it be like this? He’d protect her and cook her food when they were stranded in the woods? He would always be there for her, and she would always be there for him, both of them willing to lay down their lives for the other. No good could come of allowing herself to ponder things out of her reach, yet she could not stop it.

She studied him as he tended to the rabbit, his dark head bent. She more than desired him. She more than liked him. She had gone and developed a place in her heart for this man, and she could not do such a thing. Swallowing, she said, “Thank you for all the work to make me supper.”

Royce pulled his gaze from the stick of meat he was holding over the fire and turned it to her. The way the flames danced across his handsome features made him look godlike. “I could nae let ye try to sleep on an empty belly.”

“Oh, I’ve slept on an empty stomach before,” she blurted, biting her lip on inviting more questions about her past. Perhaps he wouldn’t ask. But when Royce frowned and lowered the stick to rest on his knees, she knew he would. She sent a silent entreaty to God that she’d not have to lie again. She detested it, and herself, every time she was untruthful.

“I do nae imagine it was because yer family was too poor to provide for ye,” Royce said, a hard bite to his tone. Was he angry on her behalf? She thought he might be and it made that place he now occupied in her heart get a little wider.

“Whenever I did something to displease my father or stepmother, if they were not too vexed with me, my punishment would be five days without a meal.”

“Five days?” His voice came out like a harsh clap of thunder in the mostly silent woods and made Eve flinch. “God’s blood, Abigail, I would give yer father the beating he deserves if he were near. In fact, if ye wish me to find him—”

“No!” she gasped. “He can never know where I am.” Her heart had lodged in her throat.

“Ye fear he’d come for ye to use ye once again?”

She nodded, her nostrils flaring. If her father found her, he would surely drag her back to Frederick. Her fleeing would have angered Frederick and possibly unsettled arrangements between her father and Frederick’s family, which could cost her father coin. But she couldn’t tell Royce that. She watched as he went to reach for her hand, then pulled his own back. The fact that he was doing his best to respect her wishes made her heart ache with yearning and made her want to give him some bit of truth. He didn’t even know her name. Her lips parted, and she inhaled sharply. Could she tell him her true given name? Was it too dangerous?

She would risk it. He deserved that truth from her and so much more. “Eve,” she whispered, her heart pushing the blood through her veins so furiously that it pulsed in her neck.

“What?”

She could hear the confusion in his tone.

“Eve,” she whispered again. “My name is Eve. Abigail is my middle name. No one ever called me that.” When he didn’t respond, she began to speak faster, certain he was angry and would send her away. “I…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was fearful if I gave my real name, you would possibly seek out my father.” It wasn’t a lie. It was true. But she was acutely aware that she had not given the entire truth. Her deceit burned her gut and her throat. The silence stretched between them, his gaze burning into her so that she felt as if he were peeling back the layers of her lies to see the ugly truth she was hiding.

Then he grabbed her hand, his large, warm fingers enfolding hers in a tight embrace. “I understand fear, Eve, but ye can trust me.”

All she could do was nod. Her lies made her throat close. Did she dare trust him? She needed a bit more time to earn a place in the clan, to win his daughters over, to make him see that she would not bring trouble by being here, that no one would come looking for her. And then she would tell him and give him her trust. She had to. He was too honorable, too good, too dangerous to her head and heart not to tell him she was wed and destroy any ties of more than friendship that were forming between them. She gave her hand a little tug, knowing she had to get him to release her because his touch stoked a flame she feared she’d be unable to put out if she was not careful.

He released her then, grabbed the satchel he’d taken from his destrier, and pulled out a blanket. As he was shaking it out to lay it on the ground, he said, “’Tis a good thing I keep this blanket or else ye’d have to sleep on my plaid.”

Eve’s gaze went immediately to Royce’s hips where the plaid was wrapped, hanging to mid-thigh. Her eyes widened. “You couldn’t have done that!” Eve blurted.

“Whyever nae?” he asked, bending down to smooth the wrinkles out of the blanket.

Heat singed her cheeks at the thought of telling him what she’d heard. “It’s nothing. I—”

“Do nae lie to me, lass. Keeping the secret of yer name until ye trusted me is one thing, but lying to me now that ye know ye can trust me… Well, that I kinnae tolerate.”

Heaven above, his words made her fear telling him the truth of her situation even more. She swallowed, the heat spreading down her neck and over her chest. “My companion Florrie told me that, well—” Eve squirmed with embarrassment at the way Royce’s gaze bore into her.

“Yer companion told ye what?”

“That Highlanders don’t wear anything under their plaids because it makes it easier to take their women whenever and wherever they want.”

A wide smile cracked his face, making her heart stutter in her chest. The man was so sinfully handsome, and when he smiled, it was enhanced even more. He then began to laugh so heartily that his shoulders shook with the movement. He did so for several long breaths until Eve found herself glaring at him, feeling as if she were a fool for believing such a thing.

He finally stopped, his gaze locked on her once more. “I’m sorry, lass, but was yer companion English?”

Eve nodded.

“That explains it,” he said, laughing once more. “It gets cold in the Highlands, Eve,” he said. Her name rolled off his tongue with such a lovely Scottish burr it made her sigh. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, as he had begun to take off his plaid.

Eve gawked as he unwrapped the gold, green, and black plaid from his body, and she didn’t look away. No, her gaze would not budge. But her heart beat did. With each unwinding of material, her pulse increased, as did the tension strumming through her and the sweet ache at her core.

Shadows from the fire and the moon danced across his muscular figure as his chest was completely bared, and then his hips and powerful thighs encased in short braies. A sense of excitement filled her as she stared at the man before her. Every part of him was honed to protect, to combat, to build a strong clan. She wondered what it would feel like to have his weight on her. His heat over her. His arms around her.

“Disappointed, lass?”

His voice slid like silk over her and made her shiver. It took her several breaths to collect herself. Finally, she sputtered, “Certainly not,” but even she could hear how false the words sounded.

Royce gave her a knowing grin before motioning to the ground. “Lie there.”

“Whatever for?” she gasped.

A slow, very wolfish smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “For sleep, Eve. Unless ye had something else in mind.”

Her entire body seemed to go up in flames, and the pleasant feeling at her core bloomed into her belly and pulsed. “No, sleep is perfect,” she said, her voice throaty. She scrambled onto the blanket, thinking he was going to put the plaid somewhere nearby to sit on while he kept guard. When he very gently placed it over her, she stilled, surprised.

“Where will you sit?” she asked.

“The ground,” he replied, kneeling and starting to tuck the edges of the blanket around her.

She should have stopped him. His actions were far too personal, but she could not bring herself to halt him. It was so nice, so intoxicating, to have a man show such care, such concern for her. She wanted to harmlessly enjoy it for a moment. When he was done tucking the blanket, he surprised her again by brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead.

“There,” he said, his voice rough as if he was struggling to restrain himself. “Ye sleep, and I’ll look over ye.”

All she could do was nod. Her emotions had swollen in her throat, preventing her from speaking. True to his word, he rose, turned from her, and made his way to the other side of the fire where he sat on the ground, legs kicked out in front him as if he was impervious to the cold. And maybe he was. The few times she’d been near him, heat had rolled off him in waves. She, on the other hand, was freezing, but she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped for sleep. Her nose was cold in moments, then her fingertips and hands, and soon her teeth began to chatter. She curled her legs toward her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, but it was no use. She was freezing.

“I’ll never be able to sleep in this cold,” she muttered and opened her eyes to find his gaze on her. The desire she saw there was unmistakable and made her heart jolt in response.

“I could sit by ye,” he offered. “To give ye warmth.”

She thought on it for a moment. She was so very cold and tired. “Just sit?”

“Aye, lass, I give ye my word.”

He was a man of honor. She knew it in her bones. “All right.”

He was beside her so quickly she had to hide the smile it caused, and when he sat beside her, his thigh to her knees, his warmth immediately seeped into her cold skin. A little sigh of pleasure escaped her. He was the only man to ever offer her comfort when she could not sleep, and it made her sad to think it would not last nor go anywhere. Florrie had offered her comfort until she’d been forced to leave her companion, and she would likely never see her again. Florrie had been the closest thing to family who loved her that Eve would ever have. Tears pricked her eyes. She dashed at them quickly, but when he grabbed her hand and tugged it away, and then said, “What’s this?” in a concerned voice, she knew she had not been quick enough.

So she did the only thing she could. “Were you staring at me?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

He leaned down, his gaze delving into a place she feared to let him tread, a place oh so very near her heart. He wiped a lone finger over one of her cheeks, his touch seeming to imprint on her very soul, and then he wiped the other cheek, his proximity nearly overwhelming. “Aye, lass. Of course I was staring at ye. Ye’re the bonniest creature I’ve ever beheld.”

The hammering of her heart throbbed in her ears as his words wormed their way past her meager defenses and filled her with a happiness that was so tempting, yet so false. She wanted nothing more in this moment than for him to kiss her. Her lips tingled with the desire. Reflexively, she licked them, and she saw him track her movement. She bit her lip, acutely aware of how dangerously close she danced to the edge of sin.

“Now, why were yer eyes filling with tears?”

“I was crying,” she said, unable to stop this much truth, “because I miss Florrie. She was like a second mother to me after I lost my own, and she was the one person who ever made me feel cared for besides my mother. She was my only real family, and I’ll probably never see her again.”

“Because she is at yer da’s castle, and ye fear him knowing where ye are?”

She nodded.

“Ye will see Florrie again,” he said.

The conviction of his statement and the thread of ferocity in it made her believe him. He wiped her cheek again, and then his thumb brushed ever so gently over her lips, and her heart—heaven above—leaped out of her chest. He brought his face a hairsbreadths from hers, and she knew with certainty that he was going to kiss her. So she did the only thing she could.

“What happened to your wife?” she blurted.

The pained look that settled on his face made her partially regret the question, but it had served its purpose and kept her from making a terrible mistake. He sat up and back, kicked his legs out in front of him again, and leaned back on his hands. “What I tell ye now stays between us.”

She nodded quickly and drew up to set her head in her palm to see him better as he spoke. The tension in his jaw was clear even in the darkness. Whatever had happened had hurt him greatly. The urge to reach out and give him comfort was so powerful that she had to inhale slowly to control herself. He reached up and shoved a hand through his hair, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling as he moved. Everything about him drew her in, and it felt as if there was a tangible bond between them. How could that be? And why did it have to happen when she could never act upon it?

His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes, and she nodded quickly, understanding that he was waiting for her agreement. “Of course,” she added. “I’d never repeat what you tell me.”

“The girls do nae know of the past. Of their mother’s betrayal of me and them.”

Eve’s desire to throttle the woman who was already dead was so swift and violent that Eve jerked with the force of it. “She betrayed you?” How in God’s name could any woman ever betray a man like Royce? She was certain he had to have been true, loyal, and loving.

“Aye, she did. I found her in another man’s arms during a clan gathering, and she told me I’d driven her there by always being away on clan affairs and leaving her alone so often. I do nae know if she was right. I—”

“No!” Eve said, scrambling to her knees and grabbing his hand. “No, no. She was not right. I cannot believe it.” His fingers curled around hers, and a shiver of wanting ran through her, but she held tight for him. He needed her in this moment, and she would not be so weak as to fail him because she wanted him. “I know you. You are good, and honorable, and true.”

He smiled slowly. “Ye think me good, honorable, and true?”

“I—Yes. Yes, I do. And I know you had to have been a good husband to your wife.”

He got a faraway look in his eyes then. “I tried,” he said after a long pause. “But mayhap I put the clan over her.”

“Then she should have talked to you,” Eve insisted, refusing to allow him to shoulder the blame for his wife’s betrayal. The woman’s actions were her own. “Maybe you weren’t perfect, and maybe you did have failings, but she was your wife, the mother of your children. She should have told you if she was lonely, not betrayed you.”

His gaze softened on Eve’s, and a quiver surged through her veins. “Is that what ye would do, Eve? If you were wed and your husband put clan duties above you too often, would you tell him?”

She thought of Frederick and how she’d tried to speak to him in the beginning, to understand, but his response had been to smack her across the face. “I would try,” she said.

“Eve,” he said. An entreaty, soft and thick with gut-wrenching emotion, filled his voice. “Eve,” he said again. He started to pull her to him, and she wanted to let him so very much that she nearly burst into tears.

She gently tugged her hand away. “I think I can sleep now.” It was a lie but one she desperately needed to tell.

Whatever he felt at her words was hidden behind a mask. She could read nothing in the depths of his eyes or upon his face. Had he learned to hide how he felt because of the betrayal of his wife? Or was hiding how they felt part of what clan lairds were taught to do as young boys? To always be in control? She suspected both were true, and mayhap the latter did make his wife feel alone, but it did not excuse what she’d done to him, how she had been willing to not only destroy her marriage but risk hurting her children if they ever learned what she had done.

“All right, Eve,” he said, and for one brief breath, she glimpsed his disappointment before he wiped it from his face.

Those same blasted tears pricked her eyes again, so she quickly lay on her side and turned away from him, fearful he’d see her emotions once again. And then she lay there, unable to sleep, longing and regret swirling within her. She listened to the crackling fire, the birds calling, and the gentle swish of the wind. But most of all, she savored his nearness, knowing he’d likely never be so close to her again. His heat cradled her, soothed her, and eventually settled a drowsiness over her, making her body heavy, her heart slow, and darkness creep in to take her to sleep.