I couldn’t argue with that statement, except it did occur to me that there was one person involved who was most probablynotat all pleased with the new outcome: Maisie Morrison. But I didn’t mention her now. I also, fleetingly, wondered about Stella Morrison. How didshefeel about her newly announced and sudden betrothal to Kade?
“And that’s not all!” he said, enraged, and I suspected the whiskey’s effects were making themselves known, as his words had a thrusting yet slurred edge to them, escalating as he spoke. “You neglect—after everything!—to mention to me that you bear a secret inked mark! Which just sohappensto be the seal of King William’s for hismistress. The verysamemistress that happens to have born him his one and onlychild. Thesamechild he has been searching for for over fifteen years. Thechildthat is to be gifted withthe grandest estate in all of Scotland!”
“I—”
“Did it slip yourmind?Did you just happen toforgetthat you were the heir to vast royal wealth, which incidentally would have offered us a much less angst-ridden and lesslife-threateningroute to our betrothal—which is something Ithoughtyou wanted?”
He was breathing heavily, his body hot to the touch in the cool water.
I felt a tear slide down to my jaw at his angry words and also my regret. Of course I wished that I had told him and shown him. I wished that I had trusted him.
“Why,Roses? Enlighten me, please. Because I know not what could have been going through your mind to hide all these secrets from me. And to walk out onuswhen I was still in the middle of negotiations.”
It was true I knew very little about negotiations, of any kind. I’d never had need to negotiate much of anything, with anyone. I was told what to do, and I did it. That was my life. But now, I could begin to understand that families discussed things in this way. They argued and compromised. And, sometimes, they were able to come up with solutions, together. I didn’t have much previous experience with any of these things, but I could see that now, with Wilkie, I would have need to learn to do better, as his wife.
If he would still have me.
I knew I had cleaned his wounds well. I turned him to me. “I have another memory of my early life, warrior.” I wiped the hot tears from my cheeks.
His anger calmed somewhat at the sight of my tears, but he had not forgiven me, I could see it in his eyes. He waited for me to continue.
“It was just after I was adopted by my parents,” I began, and my voice sounded shaky and mournful. “I was ill and my mother had consulted one of the old women of the clan... She was more of a seer than a healer. She was very old, very frail, with wrinkled skin and watery eyes. This old woman was called into our small house. She was searching my body for signs ofillness. She came across the mark. She pulled her hands away as though stung by it, like it burned her fingertips. She made a strange noise. And then, she began...shrieking.” More tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t wipe them away. I knew more were coming. It was such a frightening, horrible memory and one that I had never told anyone. Until now. Just to speak of it upset me greatly. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I forced the words out. “She was screaming at me, and pointing. She was horrified.A witch,she called me.’Tis a witch’s mark,she said. She said I would be beaten and flayed and burned at the stake if anyone was to learn of it. She said Ishouldbe burned. And my parents kept it hidden thereafter, bribing the old woman with wheat and barley, buying her silence. Some days we went hungry, just so we could keep her in rations. My parents made sure I had food, but there were days when they had to go without.”
“Clearly this hag was mad,” Wilkie said abruptly. His words had a strange effect on me. I felt relief, aye, and sadness, that my family had been wronged in this way. My parents’ devotion to me had never wavered, not once, despite my brand. They had protected me and sacrificed much to keep me safe and alive. I missed them desperately in that moment, and I wished I could see them again, to show them the truth of it, to thank them and tell them I was sorry.
Wilkie’s voice softened as I sobbed, completely undone. He held me closer, taking me in his arms and cradling my head against his chest. “You need not worry about the ravings of a senile old crow any longer, lass. ’Tis over now.”
“Iwasgoing to tell you,” I cried. “I hid it from youbecause I was afraid you would be repulsed by me, like the old woman was. I wanted so much to be with you, and I knew that once you saw it you might burn me or cast me away—”
“I wouldneverhave burnt you, Roses,” he said, raising my face to his, “and I wouldnothave cast you away. You’re my angel, lass.Thatiswhat you are. ’Tis what you always were and always will be. I loveyou. To utter madness. Have I not proven that to you, in every way that I know how? Say it to me. Say ‘my warrior loves me to utter madness.’”
I sniffled. “My warrior loves me.”
“Nay, Roses. My warrior loves me toutter madness.” He paused, wiping my tears. “It pains me to think that you’ve carried this with you all these years of your life, along with all your other burdens. No longer, lass. You are free, to live your life as you were meant to. I’m here with you, always, to make sure that happens. You’re not alone anymore. There are two of us now.”
I beheld him, my warrior, and my heart felt as if it would break open with love for him.
“Before we return to Kinloch,” he said, “you will promise me, right here and right now, that you will never, ever leave me again. Say it.”
“I promise with my whole heart that I will never, ever leave you again.”
“Are there any more secrets you’d like to share?” he asked insistently. “Because I demand to know about each and every one of them right this instant.”
I was gently pulling him back to the edge of the river, mindful of his wounds and his treatment. We had drifted slightly downstream so would need to climb upa small bank to get back up onto the shore. “No more secrets, warrior. That was the only one. I swear it.”
“Good. Because if you ever break this promise, I shall have to punish you.”
“What will you do to me?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something very—” He stopped as I was making a move to climb up the bank. I felt Wilkie’s hands on my backside, which was, as I was positioned, partially exposed to him. He made a noise that landed somewhere between a sigh of surrender and an animal growl.
The ferocity of his pain and his anger lingered in him, and I was shocked at the way his hands were spreading me, revealing me to him. I felt his mouth on me. I felt the probing insistence of his tongue delving into my most intimate places, pushing into me, then pulling softly with the skill of his mouth. Then he rose over me. I felt his hands widening my stance and the hard pressure of him against my backside.
“Warrior, we should return—”
“Nay. Not yet.”
There was a desperation to his touch, like the near-death experience had given rise to his baser vulnerabilities. Wilkie rubbed his shaft along my sensitive petals, dipping hotly into me, then removing his touch altogether. I tried to turn to him, but he held me in place, climbing onto me so his body was leaning heavily over mine, covering me. Again, slowly, he entered me, then withdrew, and the emptiness at the withdrawal was disconcerting, stealing pleasure and heat from my aching flesh. I had never thought of such a position, but I was crazed for more of his teasing, gliding promises. Hetouched me, using his fingers to open me to him, to moisten the delicate center of sensation.
