Page 57 of Claimed Highland Brides

NEW ALLIANCES

It was three weeks before Daividh was able to make any sound without immediately choking. Fiona tended to him as she would have for any of her sisters, riding roughshod over her uncle’s protests of impropriety. She had come too close to losing him to risk leaving him in the hands of uncaring healers, and her uncle was in no position to scold her about honor.

“How are ye feeling today?” she asked him as she carefully fed him lukewarm chicken soup.

“I feel as if I can feed mysel’,” he rasped resentfully as she moved the spoon out of his reach.

“Aye weel, ye’re gang tae have tae bear wi’ me a bit longer until the healer declares ye’re hale enough tae do it.”

He opened his mouth to answer and she stuck the spoon in it, forcing him to swallow or choke. He swallowed, unable to hide the flinch of pain as he did so.

Fiona’s eyes softened. “D’ye need some more salve before ye finish yer meal?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Fiona sighed with frustration. Daividh really did make a very difficult convalescent. Fiona spooned some more soup and held it out to him. He refused to open his mouth.

“Please Daividh. If ye eat all yer soup I promise to tell ye wha’ happened. The whole truth.”

Daividh narrowed his eyes. “I thought ye awready told me the whole truth.”

“I lied.” Fiona caught his gaze and held it, the spoon steady in her hand. Daividh leaned forward and licked all the soup from the spoon, still glaring at her. He finished the rest in silence, not taking his eyes off of her.

“Tell me,” he said as soon as the spoon hit the bottom of the wooden bowl. Fiona looked down at her wringing hands with a sigh.

“I dinnae want to tell ye afore because I dinnae want ye to look at me differently.”

His hand appeared in her sight as he covered her hands with his. “I could never.” His raspy voice still managed to convey his utter sincerity.

She nodded, still avoiding his eyes, but she held onto his hand with both of hers. “I told ye that Laird Hunter was fatally wounded in the fighting when we came tae rescue ye. What I dinnae tell ye…” She looked up, catching his eyes, her own filling with moisture. “...was that ah’m the one who injured him.”

He squeezed her hand, his eyes compassionate, but let her finish. “I...he was...we cut ye down from the tree. Ye werenae breathing and...he ordered his men tae collect ye. He was laughing.” Fiona swallowed. “I couldnae take it. I thought I had lost ye and he was laughing. I rushed at him, just...seeing red. He was surprised, he dinnae expect tha’. None of them did. I slashed at his hand and ran him through. The bloodlust, it just descended on me. I dinnae even remember it weel. It was like a dream.”

He squeezed her hand tighter and her eyes shifted to his. “I was so bloodthirsty.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “It shocked ye, that ye should feel such things.”

She nodded slowly. “Aye.”

“And now ye dinnae ken who ye are anymore. The genteel daughter of a laird or a bloodthirsty killer.”

She dropped her head, lashes falling to hide her eyes. “Aye,” she said even more quietly.

His strong hands closed over her arms and he pulled her close so that her head was laying on his chest. “Ye can be both ye ken?”

She sniffled, blinking rapidly to dispel the moisture from her eyes. “Can I? Who wants a bloodthirsty killer frae a wife?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Me.” She could hear the laughter in his voice and looked up to see him smiling, his eyes shining. She searched his eyes for evidence of a lie but they were lucid and sincere.

“Really?”

“Aye.”

Slowly, she laid her head back against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist, closing her eyes. “Weel, thank God for that because ye’re stuck wi’ me.”

He laughed softly, her head bouncing on his chest with the movement. “Guid.”