“I think I do,” Moira whispered as she took Robena’s hands in her own. “Ye have made a place for yerself here for years and not permitted yerself to want or need more. But ’tis not working, is it?”
Whatever she would have said, however she would have denied Moira’s words of truth, was stopped by the door bursting open. Pol was carrying Jean in his arms. She babbled as shewrapped her father’s hair around her fingers. It was the sight of Iain carrying the younger one, Caitlin, in his arms and smiling at her, that tore Robena apart.
“They are hungry . . . again!” Pol said as he put his daughter down and took the other from Iain. “And ready to come home,” he explained. He strode to Moira and kissed her. “As I am, but I have too many tasks to see to.”
When Iain’s gaze met hers, Robena feared for everything. Her well-ordered life, her identity, and her beliefs were all in grave danger from this man. Overwhelmed by fear, she simply walked out and away from them. From him.
“Robena?” She heard his voice but did not stop.
“Lass?”
She ran then, realizing for the first time that he was the only man who would call his whore ‘lass’. Heedless of her direction, she stumbled along the paths and into the woods, just knowing she needed to be away. When she stopped, her sides ached from the exertion and her lungs burned from the coldness of the air she breathed. Leaning over, hands on her thighs, she dragged in deep breaths. It took minutes or longer for her to become aware of the place to which she’d run.
This was the place where her life had been taken from her. All it took was one glance at the large rock in this clearing to know.
They’d dragged her here from her cottage, for there was not enough room for all of them there. Here, they could do as they wanted, far enough from the nearest cottages so that they did not draw attention. And they had done as they wanted, with a brutality she’d never experienced or seen. Having several men at once was something she’d done before, but then, the goal of those men had been pleasure, and lots of it. That night, the night of Alesander and Anice’s wedding, those men had not desired pleasure. They’d wanted to hurt her and carry out some need of their leader for retribution.
And she had gotten both in full measure, as Struan’s son had planned. It had gone on for hours before they’d dragged her back and left her in front of her cottage, torn and beaten and bleeding and . . . damaged. After that night, she’d changed too, for she understood there was nothing else for her but the life of a whore.
With a final look around, she accepted the memories for what they were now—a reminder that her path remained clear. She might fill her empty hours with interests and pursuits, but she was what she would always be—a whore. The crunching behind her made her turn quickly.
Iain stood there, staring at her.
Did he know the details of what had happened? Had Moira revealed more to him than Rob? Robena knew Rob felt guilty over what had happened to her and blamed himself somehow. His half-brother was the guilty one, though, and the only one to blame. And every day, God forgive her, she prayed that he yet burned in hell.
“I thought ye might need this if ye plan to stay outside,” he said quietly as he held out her cloak. He was not wearing his. When she did not speak or move, he continued. “Moira said she would appreciate yer help for a few hours, if ye can spare it.”
The urge to run gathered within her. It would be the right thing to do now. Run away from this man who threatened everything she had settled in her life. Run away from the growing need within her for more. But if she did, who would she be? Could she continue to simply whore for a living? Would she ever be able to ignore the longing for a family and a man of her own? Taking a breath, she gathered herself back in and gained control over the dangerous desires and nodded to him.
“With yer permission, I will,” she said, once more the whore whose customer decided what she could or would do with her time.
Something flashed in his gaze, before he gave his permission with a curt nod. He waited there as she passed, handing her the cloak, which she tossed over her own shoulders as she walked by him.
It was simpler this way. To be what she knew she was, rather than to want something she could not have. By the time she reached Moira’s cottage, the despair had been pushed back to where it belonged, and she was the same old Robena that everyone expected her to be.
Iain had watchedher for some time before she came back to herself from whatever she was remembering or seeing here. Her eyes were haunted, and she shivered several times, though he doubted the cold was what caused it. As he waited, he realized what this place must be.
Moira must have known, for she’d given him directions on how to get here, explaining that Robena often found her way here. But why? Why return to the place where such a monstrous thing had happened? He shifted his weight and crushed some branches on the ground there, drawing her gaze.
For a moment, he wanted to look away from the anguish and horror he saw there, but Iain would not. He would not pity or lessen what she had survived by giving her anything but his strength. He’d trained men and seen them near their breaking point. Kindness was the last thing they needed, and it was the last thing she needed right now.
He told her what Moira had said and held out her cloak, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and banish whatever demons haunted her now. Iain forced his hands to his side as she took her cloak and walked away.
The cold surrounded him, but it did not stop his blood from boiling in his veins. If he could dig up Alesander MacKendimenand kill him again, slowly and painfully, he would. If he could find out the names of the men who had attacked Robena on his behalf and torture them as they’d tortured her, he would. The scream that bubbled up from inside him and echoed out over this clearing and through the woods was filled with his fury and frustration that he could do neither.
He could do nothing to avenge the wrong to this woman. He could do nothing to punish those responsible. Iain understood that Rob would have done it if he could have. Now he truly comprehended Rob’s dilemma in this.
Iain would do the same thing his friend had done—give her a choice—and not try to bend her to his will or force her to accept him. He would indeed offer her marriage as one of the options, but the other, the much harder one for him, would be to change nothing between them. It would be a struggle to let a woman like her—a vibrant, intelligent, witty, loving woman—get away, but if that was what she truly wanted, he would let her go.
Iain loved her enough to do just that.
Instead of following her back to Moira’s, he headed to the smithy to work out some of the fruitless anger he felt on her behalf. Pol took one look at him and put him to work without another word. After several hours of lifting and carrying and helping the much-younger blacksmith in his labors, Iain was exhausted and hungry and appeased. Well, as appeased as a man could be when he wanted to kill an already-dead man and his accomplices. Wearing himself out this way would have to do.
By the time they returned to Moira and Pol’s home, all he wanted was to have Robena to himself, but there was a hot meal to be shared. Then several more hours of good conversation before she seemed ready to leave. As they walked back to her cottage, the snow began to fall.
The day of Christ’s Mass was approaching more quickly than he’d realized. A few more days and he would have to return tothe keep, for Struan would take it as a personal insult if he chose to remain with Robena and not celebrate the holyday with the laird’s family.
That night, in the darkest hours, she initiated their coupling. He was content to hold her, but Robena began to touch and caress him, and then she climbed over him and slid down his readied cock in silence. Iain let her have her way, let her do as she wished, until she gained the satisfaction she seemed to need in the way she needed it. ’Twas as though she needed to prove to herself that she could after the terrible memories she’d faced this day.
