Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone
Fifteen
Royce withdrew his sword from its sheath at his back, set it beside him on the ground, and got comfortable. He watched Eve as her breathing deepened, her chest rose and fell, and her eyes moved under her thin, delicate lids. Something had changed in him, but what? Something had shifted this night. He felt it in his chest but could not quite name it. It had to do with her, though.
He studied how her full, pink lips parted, how her small hands were tucked under her beautiful face in such a lovely way, and his chest constricted with shocking emotion—possession, longing, desire. The feelings tumbled inside him like waves, and he rubbed at his chest as he considered the conversations they’d had earlier.
Eve. Her given name was Eve. He was glad she felt safe enough now to admit that, but he was also unsettled by her tears and what she had said about her companion being her only real family. She was part of his clan now, and he could no longer deny just how much he wanted her. The question was, what was he going to do about it now?
He had been very close to kissing her, and he would have if she’d not stopped him. He couldn’t decide whether he should be grateful or irritated. What was holding him back, really? She was brave and caring, and he had not only desire for her but a pull to open up to her, one he’d been struggling to resist. Those emotions were not things he felt for the other women in his clan.
Eve was different. He was drawn to her, and not just to her beauty. He was drawn to her warmth, her determined nature to win his girls—hell, even the chaos she brought to Dunvegan. It was a happy sort. With a start, he realized that he had been living life since Lara’s betrayal in a very controlled manner, but was that even real living? As his gaze roamed over Eve’s curvy silhouette, his fingertips twitching to touch her body, to memorize the lines that made her, he didn’t think his existence was a true one. It was as if he’d held himself apart from life so that he would not feel pain again.
He drank in the gentle slope of her cheekbones, the slight tilt of her nose, her fair skin, and the dark lashes lying against her cheek. His chest felt full, and as he rubbed it once more, he understood why. Eve had slipped in there somehow. He had been lonely, though he’d been surrounded by family and his clan, and with her here, he didn’t feel that way.
How did she feel? The question made him frown. Her face and eyes showed yearning. God’s blood, even her voice held a throaty note of desire. Yet, her actions—mostly—told him she did not want to let him get close. Her past seemed to have her in chains, too. Could they break them together? Start anew?
She moaned in her sleep, and he brushed a hand gently to her forehead. “Shh, lass. I’m here. I’ll keep ye safe.” The moaning immediately stopped, and he grinned. She trusted him, if only in her sleep, and it was not lost on him how good that made him feel. His gaze went to her hands as he recalled the scars there. He was glad she’d run from her father. The man was no true father to wed her to a husband who mistreated her. She hadn’t said so in words, but the tremble in her voice and the fear in her eyes had revealed volumes. Her husband was lucky he was dead. Royce would have enjoyed teaching the bastard a lesson if he’d been alive.
He turned his thoughts to her and his girls. He’d watched her, seen the hours she spent and the care she took with them. He frowned. Lara had never done that, never spent so much time with the girls. Yes, Lenora had followed Lara around, but it had been because Lenora was always trying to get Lara’s attention, which had been hard to achieve. Lara had had a habit of saying the best children were those neither seen nor heard, those who would benefit you later by their births. He hadn’t agreed. Of course, he hadn’t. But with his being tied up so much with clan duties and Lara being cold and distant, it hit him as he sat beside Eve, who was the epitome of warmth and kindness, that neither he nor Lara had provided the girls with what they needed from them: time. But here lay this woman who’d swept into their lives and given them nothing but time—and had almost given her life, too.
Eve muttered suddenly in her sleep, kicking off the plaid and rolling closer to him to throw her leg and arm over his leg. Desire sprang up once more, and when she snuggled still closer and her breast pressed soft and inviting against his thigh, his desire turned hard and painful. Cursing, he extracted himself from her lovely limbs, and he rose to walk off the desire. If he remained close to her, he would remain hard as steel.
They’d settled in a secluded spot, near the edge of the mountain he’d climbed to find her, which put trees on three sides and rock on the other. The fire he’d built was in the center of the circle of trees and rock, and he strode around the circle now, swinging his arms and inhaling deep, full breaths of air. The stars shone down between the canopy of branches, and just as his desire started to subside, a deep growl came from behind him. He froze, his pulse speeding up, and he reached for the sheath at his back only to find nothing but the leather of the holder. God’s teeth. He’d left his sword on the ground beside Eve.
He turned slowly as the rumble became louder and more menacing. His blood rushed furiously through his veins in fear for Eve. Between him and Eve was a wolf, its black coat almost blending into the night completely, its eyes shining yellow in their sockets, and its white teeth glinting. The wolf growled yet again, louder, and moved toward Royce. Thank God for that. Mayhap he could lead it away from Eve. The sounds from the wolf deepened, seeming to fill the silent night, and it sent birds surging from the trees above so that the night was suddenly not silent at all. Behind the wolf, Eve suddenly sat up and blinked once, the white of her eyes, illuminating her fear.
“Do nae stand, lass,” he said as low as possible. The wolf growled yet louder. Eve stood, looking between him and the sword on the ground beside her, and black fear surged through him at what the impetuous, brave lass might do. “Eve, no,” he said urgently, trying to dissuade her.
But she bent swiftly, awkwardly lifted his sword, and then yelled, “Here!”
The wolf moved in a blur, turning, lunging, and snapping its teeth, even as Royce attempted to grab the deadly beast. A handful of hair was all he got for his effort. And even as he rushed across the expanse toward her, she swung at the wolf, but the sword, cumbersome and heavy for a wee lass such as herself, dropped toward the left, bending her wrist and causing her to cry out in pain. The weapon fell to the ground, and three steps from reaching it, a bloodcurdling scream ripped from Eve as the beast reached her and bit into her arm.
Fright like Royce had never felt swept over him and propelled him forward in a desperate bid to kill the wolf before it killed Eve. Royce grasped his sword with a swift bend, came up, and plunged the weapon, all the way to the hilt, into the back of the wolf. The animal let out a howl, stilled, and went limp, releasing Eve’s arm as both beast and woman toppled over to the ground.
For one moment, Royce stood stunned as blood covered Eve’s arm, and she lay unmoving. He shook off the shock, bent down, scooped up her prone body, and did the only thing he could do: he began to run toward Dunvegan, praying he’d reach the castle before she lost too much blood and died.
“Lay her on the table,” Elena ordered, her voice strained.
Royce didn’t know if he could make himself let go of Eve. He felt as if she were a part of him, molded to him, a limb he could not live without. His fingers were stiff from gripping her for so long as he ran, her blood caked on them. His lungs still burned from the pace he’d set—and kept—to make it here by sunrise. It had been relentless, and yet, exhaustion had not touched him.
“Royce!” Elena snapped, and he jerked his gaze from Eve’s pale face and closed eyes to his sister, whose face was pinched with worry. “If ye do nae lay her down, I kinnae see if she can be saved.”
If?
The word broke through the stupor that had hold of him, and the man used to saving lives himself, taking command, and giving orders was dragged up to the surface through this haze of fear for Eve. He turned his attention to Brus, who stood by Elena, even as he did as Elena said and lay Eve on the table.
“Get the Warrior’s Reckoning,” Royce told his brother.
Brus’s eyes widened. “Ye’re certain?”
“I’m certain.” As the warning from the fae went, only a MacLeod descendant and the woman who had his heart could drink the tonic without repercussions, and holding Eve now, the life possibly draining from her, he knew with utter certainty that she had a piece of his heart. He’d been fighting his desire for her, his wariness from the past, his reluctance to allow a woman in again since the day Eve had shown up at Dunvegan. The last of his barriers were destroyed. He would do anything to save her, give anything to make her his—including sacrificing the precious order he had believed would keep him safe. It wasn’t keeping him safe; it was making him lonely. And he hadn’t cared until her. She brought laughter, chaos, and warmth, and he wanted to soak up every messy bit of it. If that meant giving her the power to hurt him, he would give it gladly for the chance to love her and be loved by her.
Elena rushed toward him, rags and dagger in hand, and gave him a reassuring smile. “She’ll survive,” his sister said, patting him briefly before slicing the front of the nun habit Eve had taken to wearing to spite him for being such a clot-heid with her.
Brus returned with the Warrior’s Reckoning in hand just as Elena said, “Hold her shoulders, Royce.”
He didn’t hesitate. Eve was out, to be certain, but the minute the tonic hit her skin, the sensation of it burning would awaken her. Though it would not take a layer of her skin, it would feel as if it were doing just that. It was simply the price to be offered up for the fae’s magic. He leaned down and pressed his lips close to Eve’s ear, willing her to hear him. “Do nae be afraid, Eve. I’m here. I will always be here for ye.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not awaken. Yet, when Brus poured the liquid onto the gaping wound at Elena’s instruction, Eve’s eyes flew wide open. Bellowing, she tried to jerk her arms up to, no doubt, knock away the tonic.
“Eve,” Royce said, trying to help her focus. Her gaze darted everywhere as she continued to bellow, and a sheen of perspiration instantly covered her face and chest.
“Stop, stop!” she cried out. “You’re killing me! Killing me!”
“Eve, Eve, shh,” he tried again as she attempted to buck her body, which forced him to hold her down more firmly as Brus continued to pour the liquid. Elena dabbed at it and the blood that ran down her arm onto the table.
“Release me, please,” Eve sobbed, thrashing her head, her words becoming nearly incoherent as she repeated over and over again, “Release me. It hurts. Hurts.”
At a loss for what else to do to calm her, he kept one hand on her shoulder and cupped her face with the other to still her head. He pressed his lips to hers, uncaring that his sister and brother were standing right there. Eve stopped fighting him, and he pulled back just enough to whisper in her ear, “’Tis almost over, lass. Be braw now.”
She stilled, and a moment later, Brus finished pouring on the Warrior’s Reckoning, and Royce took Eve’s limp hand in his. Elena waved Brus out of the way and began to bandage Eve’s shoulder. “What now?” Royce asked.
Elena inhaled a long breath as she wrapped the bandage around the wound and secured it. When she was finished, she looked at Royce. “Now she’ll likely get a fever, but do nae fear. The potion will work. She will survive.” Elena smiled gently at him, then said, “Ye gave her the potion.”
The meaning of his actions floated between them. It was tantamount to him making a declaration that he loved her. “Aye,” he said, “I did.”
“Will that please Abigail, ye think?” Elena asked, looking down at Eve.
“Eve,” Royce said. “Her name is Eve. Abigail is her middle name, and I suspect it will nae please her yet, but I intend to make it so it eventually does.” And with that, he grinned.
Elena chuckled, and Brus clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s the brother I remember from years ago. He’s returned.”
“Aye,” Royce said, bending down to gather Eve in his arms and carry her to her bedchamber so she could rest. He was ready to take some risks again.
“I can sit with her, ye know,” Elena said the next night as she entered Eve’s bedchamber with a fresh bucket of water and a rag to bathe Eve’s skin with for the fever. It had started a few hours after they’d poured the potion on her shoulder and had been raging ever since. But her wound was healing rapidly and nicely. If only the fever would break.
“Nay,” Royce said, scrubbing a hand across the stubble on his face. “I’ll stay. Give me the bucket and rag. I’ll do her face and arms.”
As Elena crossed to him, Royce blinked his bleary eyes to see Lenora and Lillith enter the room behind her.
“Why are they nae in bed?” he demanded, too tired to keep his temper.
“They stayed up to bid farewell to Brus and Thor as they left on the king’s business, and then the girls wanted to see Eve before they went to sleep. I thought it would be all right with ye.”
He nodded and motioned the girls to him. He’d spoken with them yesterday morning after Eve had been settled into bed. He knew how sorry they were for their part in what had happened to Eve, and he knew from the number of times they’d stopped in to see her yesterday and today—and sat and read to her and sang to her—that Eve had most definitely won their respect, loyalty, and he suspected a bit of their hearts, just as Eve had won his.
“How is she tonight, Da?” Lillith asked, walking into the room and coming to stand by him. Lenora came to stand at his other side.
“Still feverish,” he replied, glancing to Eve. She was pale and wan, but she was sleeping more soundly than she had been. She’d awoken several times since the night, but none of her waking moments were lucid. Once she’d looked right at him and called him “Mother” and asked him to tell her another bedtime story of the knights and the ladies they loved.
“Tell her what ye wish,” he said, motioning to them, “and then ye both need to be off to bed. ’Tis late.”
Lillith went first, stepping up to Eve and taking her hand. “I hope ye’re feeling better, Eve,” she whispered, knowing Eve’s given name now. He had explained to Lenora, Lillith, Elena, Brus, Thor, and Magnus how Eve had run from her father in fear that he would once again selfishly wed her to a terrible man since Eve’s first husband had died. All six of them knew Eve’s secret, and they had decided to simply start calling her Eve with the explanation that she had told them it was the name she preferred.
As Lillith stepped back, Lenora moved up, also taking Eve’s hand in hers. “We are sorry, Eve. Terribly. When ye’re all better, we’ll let ye teach us all sorts of boring rules on being proper lasses.”
Elena and Royce exchanged a brief look. It was something special for Lenora to relent to that. Royce had thought she was being purposely difficult, but now he saw that she’d had barriers up just as he had, and both his girls were probably not only fearful of losing his attention but of getting close to another woman, a mother figure, and losing her. “Girls, when Eve is well, I’ll be tucking ye in at nights.”
Both girls turned to him, excitement on their faces. “Really, Papa?” Lenora asked.
He nodded.
“Oh, Papa!” Lillith said, “I’ve been waiting forever to hear ye say that.”
Guilt stabbed at him that he had not done it sooner, but he motioned for them to come close and then gave them great big hugs. He wasn’t one to speak of the things he felt overly much, but mayhap he needed to get better at that. “I love ye, girls. Now to bed with ye.”
“I’ll go see the girls to bed,” Elena said.
He nodded, already distracted by how flushed Eve suddenly looked. He dipped the rag in the cool water and wrung it out. He ran the damp cloth down the length of one of her arms and then the other, and she began to moan. When he pressed the rag to her forehead, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked straight at him, though her eyes were cloudy with the fever.
“I want you, Royce.”
He tried to stop the grin, but he couldn’t. It was the fever. He knew it. But maybe the fever was loosening the truth from her tongue. Still, he’d not take advantage. “’Tis the fever, lass.”
“Kiss me, Royce,” she said, not even acknowledging what he’d said. “Kiss me like you did yesterday.”
Now he knew she wasn’t in her right state because he’d not kissed her. While he leaned over her, trying to decide what to say, she said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Then she hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Her lips were fire on his. The fever, mayhap, but he wanted to think her desire burned just as hot as his. Yearning shot through him as her soft lips moved over his, and she made little mewling sounds from her throat. She was all silk inside, and a very enticing flavor of lemony honey. No part of him wanted to break the kiss, but she might regret it when she was lucid, and he didn’t want that. He reached up to untwine her arms, and she slipped her tongue in his mouth, obliterating all his good intentions. She circled her tongue around his, and his need took over. He cupped her face and slanted his mouth over hers, taking in her heat, devouring her sweetness. Their tongues touched and tangled, and he growled while she moaned.
He wanted to spend all night kissing her—down her neck, between the valley of her breasts. With that thought in mind, he pulled back to kiss her neck, and she blinked at him and grinned. “Now I tingle all over.” And then, as if the fae had cast a spell, Eve’s eyes fluttered shut and she fell back asleep.
“Well, well,” came Elena’s voice from behind him. “That was quite a kiss. Too bad she’ll nae remember it.”
“I fully intend to give her another when she’s lucid,” he said.
Elena strode past him, stopped by Eve, and put a hand on her forehead. “The fever seems to be breaking,” she announced, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “Mayhap yer kiss was what she needed to get well.”
His sister’s teasing words struck him. Eve was what he’d needed, and he hadn’t even known it. Now he just had to make her see that she could trust him and lower her guards when she was fully in her own mind.