The soldier mutely stood back.
Slowly, painfully, Aiden forced himself upright. Blood ran down his back and pooled around his waist, trapped in the waistbandof his kilt. Some droplets slipped underneath, snaking down his thighs. He met Magnus’s eyes with a slow, brittle smile. The pain made his vision blur.
“Goodbye, Braither,” he said.
Magnus bared his teeth. “It’sLaird MacBain.”
Aiden tilted his head and smiled pityingly. “Nay, Magnus,” he murmured. “It’s nae.”
22
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
Aiden still had his back turned to her. Shoulders squared, spine straight. The scars rippled across his skin.
I cannae even imagine the pain he went through.
“It wasnae just the physical pain,” he spoke, as if reading her thoughts. “It was the realization that me braither could do that to me. That if he could have done it and gotten away with it, he’d have had me killed, too.” He let out a long sigh, tipping back his head. “When I heard he was dead, I couldnae quite believe it. I expected to feel relieved, but all I felt was emptiness.”
“He got what he deserved.”
Aiden shrugged limply. “All of that death. So much bloodshed, just to hold the lairdship for a few years. What a waste.”
He lifted a hand, rubbing the nape of his neck. She watched his fingers inch lower, one fingertip circling the jagged edge of one brand. His hand jerked back when he touched it, and he let his arm fall to the side.
“The rumors about ye never mentioned the brands,” Hannah murmured.
“Aye. Nobody kent except me braither and I, and a handful of men loyal to him. Only they kent how he’d ruined me.”
She flinched. “Ruined?”
Aiden snorted. “Aye. Look at me! What else would ye call it?”
Silence stretched out between them. Hannah said nothing, and Aiden didn’t seem to expect a reply.
Swallowing, she stepped forward, closing the space between them. She reached out her hand. When her fingertips brushed his skin, he flinched. She paused, holding her breath, sure that he was going to pull away. Instead, he stood still, his head turned ever so slightly to the side, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Her fingertips danced over the small of his back. The scars there had healed jaggedly, distorted by movement. The patchwork ofbrands curved over his hips in one place, ducking beneath the waistband of his kilt. She felt rather than heard him suck in a breath, his ribs expanding.
Heat darted here and there inside her, tightening her chest and pulling at her gut. Keeping one hand curled in the folds of her skirt, she let the other trail upwards.
Closing her eyes, she focused on what her fingertips felt. His skin, deliciously warm. Ridges and knotted scars. The way his breath caught in his throat now and then. She followed the curve of his spine, right up to the nape of his neck.
All the while, he hadn’t made a move. Hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t said or done anything to break the moment. When her fingers reached the nape of his neck, he seemed to go even more still, if that was possible. She let her hand drop.
Trying to calm her pounding heart, she took a step closer. This time, she pressed her cheek against his back, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He sucked in a surprised breath, shifting under her hands. Turning her head, she pressed a tentative kiss against one particularly vivid brand. This one was circular, with a twisted end inside the circle, like a knot. She could imagine the simple pattern gracing the flank of a bull or a cow, or some other animal. The fact that Magnus Calder had seen fit to use animal brands on his own brother made rage flare hot inside her.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” she breathed. “Yer braither, I mean. If I got me hands on him, I’d have killed him meself.”
Aiden snorted a laugh. “He was almost as tall and strong as I. I daenae think ye could’ve achieved that.”
She sniffed. “I’d have managed.”
He shifted in her arms, turning to face her. Neither of them stepped away, leaving her chin only inches from his chest, head tilted back to look up at him.
“Ye ken what?” he murmured thoughtfully, lifting a hand to trail his knuckles across her cheekbone. “I believe that ye would have found a way.”
