“I don’t want you to be hurt,” she whispered. “Or killed.”
Bram removed his shoes and she heard the rustle of his tunic falling to the ground. It had grown so dark, she couldn’t guess whether he was wearing all of his clothes or not. She closed her eyes, warming her hands near the heated stones. A shiver broke through her at the thought of sharing a mattress with a man who despised her so much.
But he returned to her, his hand catching hold of hers. “I’ve been training for weeks now, Nairna. I won’t bother trying to convince you that I can fight.” He pressed her palms to his chest and she could indeed feel the changes. No longer was he thin and wiry; she could feel the outline of new muscles in the rise and fall of his lungs. When she reached his stomach, the ridges ended at the waist of his trews.
“I know you can fight,” she murmured. “I simply don’t want you to.” This wasn’t about trust in his abilities. It was the unsettling fear that if Bram left her in the morning, he wouldn’t come back alive. She knew Lord Harkirk and the large numbers of men who defended his motte. They would be slaughtered within minutes if Harkirk learned why they were there.
Bram caught her hands and her heartbeat trembled within her chest. She could smell the scent of wood upon him and despite his anger, there was no denying the way she’d aroused him. His shaft nestled against her, when he drew her close.
“I’m not weak, Nairna.”
“I never said that. But what if the raid goes badly? It won’t end, will it?” she whispered. “Even if you do bring back Callum, there will be war.”
“Until we’ve driven the English out, aye.”
She broke free of him and the worry made her head ache. When she reached the opposite side of the room, she sat down on a wooden stump that served as a stool.
Bram returned to the bed and she heard the sinking sound of his body weight against the mattress. Her hands rested upon the silk of Lady Marguerite’s gown, and she felt like weeping.
The silence in their house closed over her and she stared at the bag of coins that lay at her feet. Though she didn’t understand how Dougal had been cheated or why, there had to be a way to make use of them.
She glanced back at Bram and the mattress rustled as he rolled over. He wasn’t going to use the coins, nor would he appreciate her interference.
But what if…she could use her father’s help? What if Hamish could coerce Lord Harkirk into releasing Callum? Then, at least, they could avoid any bloodshed.
The hours were slipping away, and she listened to the sound of Bram’s breathing, wondering if Alex would listen to her suggestion. If they traveled to Ballaloch and stayed with her father, they would know more about Harkirk’s forces and what to do.
Silently, she reached for the sack of false coins, listening to her husband sleep—if, in fact, he was sleeping. He didn’t move when she opened the door, nor did she hear him stir when she slipped outside.
Her dog Caen, however, stood up from where he’d been sleeping and trotted over to see her. Nairna reached down to touch his ears, thankful that he hadn’t begun barking.
She planned to return to the keep for the remainder of the night and wait for Alex to awaken. If she spoke to the chief before they left, he might even allow her to accompany them.
The thought of returning home was a hope that filled Nairna with yearning. She hadn’t seen her family or friends in so long. Surely her father would offer his men to help her, if she asked it of them.
The moon had slipped lower in the sky, and she hesitated, wondering if Bram was still asleep or not. Nairna held the bag of false coins and adjusted her cape to keep warm. She began walking downhill upon the path leading through the forest with Caen at her side. Though it was still dark, she could see the torches lining the walls at Glen Arrin.
In the distance, the faint gray light of morning was on the horizon. She wouldn’t have to wait too long for Alex to awaken.
As she walked further, she ignored the unsettled worry in her stomach. By the time Bram discovered her gone, she would be talking to his brother. She could only hope that the chief would listen.
Bram wondered what on earth Nairna was doing. He’d watched her take the bag of coins before she made her way down the hillside. Damn her. Where was she planning to go in the middle of the night?
Though he wanted to throttle her for daring to leave, he took a few moments to prepare his horse. It would be easier to overtake her since she’d gone on foot.
He hurried to get the gelding ready, and within minutes he was following Nairna. Once he reached the bottom of the hill, he urged his horse into a hard run to catch up to her.
He was torn between fury at her defiance and worry about why she’d left. He was the one meant to take risks, not his wife.
There. He saw her walking closer to the keep, with her dog at her side. Her hood had fallen back and she was several paces away from the gatehouse.
Bram gripped his horse with his knees, racing until he started to gain on her. Nairna glanced behind her, and when she saw him, she stopped walking. It startled Alex, for he’d expected her to run from him, not wait.
When he reached her side at last, he leaned down and picked her up, bringing her across his lap on horseback. A flush of guilt covered her face, but she held on to his waist for balance.
Bram held her captive in his arms, demanding, “Where did you think you were going?”
It occurred to Nairna that an explanation would only make Bram angrier than he already was. She was caught now, and there was nothing else she could admit except the truth. He didn’t bother to wait for her answer but wheeled the horse around to take her back home again.
