Page 21 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“I havenae forgiven ye fer trickin’ me. And I dinnae want tae be married tae ye. I dinnae like ye much, either.”

Something sparked in his eyes, but he dipped his head. “’Tis fair. And ye’re right. This doesnae change anything.”

Niamh nodded, then turned to mount her horse. Within minutes, they were traveling once more.

She couldn’t shake the feeling, as they left the stream and the brief moment of joy behind, that perhaps the day might change more than she wished it to.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Afew days after the interlude at the stream, they crossed into the borders of the lands held by Alistair’s clan. He would have willingly pressed on to the castle, but the wind was blowing up signs of a storm, and Niamh was already weary and shivering in his arms. A glance at the lowering clouds and her pale face was enough to convince him that they were better served finding an inn for the night.

Being so far from the borders, and so long past the Autumn Festival, he had no trouble finding an inn with two rooms for them to take for the evening. For six coppers each, it included stabling for the horses and a dinner of thick, hearty stew, fresh bread, and harvest vegetables to eat. Alistair paid it and heaved a sigh of relief to be in out of the worsening weather.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Both of them were tired from long days on the road, and the rain that started falling less than a candle-mark after they arrived seemed to put Niamh in a melancholy mood. Alistair finished first, but waited until Niamh had eaten her share before he escorted her up to her room.

“Good night, Niamh.”

“Good night, Alistair.” Her reply was soft, her eyes already heavy-lidded as if she was half-asleep. Alistair watched until she entered the room and closed the door, then went to his own room just across the hall. Inside, he removed his boots and belt, then settled on the bed. The mattress was thin, though wider than others he’d seen, and the pillow was mostly flat as well, but the blanket was thick and warm, and the banked coals in the tiny brazier made the room comfortable enough. Alistair stretched out with a sigh, but sleep was elusive.

Tomorrow, they’d arrive at Castle MacDuff. He’d already sent word ahead that he’d be returning with a potential bride, and the clan would demand a wedding as soon as possible, with good reason.

He could only hope that there hadn’t been severe attacks in his absence. He had noticed something in the tavern that has worried him. Festival times were supposed to be times of unofficial peace, but one could never tell what a devious man like Fergus MacTavish would do.

With all the concerns passing through his mind, sleep was a long time coming, even with his weariness. Alistair was just starting to drift off when a piercing scream rang out, coming from Niamh’s room. In a flash, he was out of bed and racing across the hall. “Niamh!”

As expected, she was in the grip of yet another nightmare, whimpering and thrashing in her sleep. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, whispering soothing words into her ears. “Calm down lass. I’m here. Ye’re safe. Naught is goin tae happen tae ye.”

With a gasp, Niamh woke. Her hands clung to his shirt as she shuddered, then burst into tears. Alistair continued to hold her. “Easy there, Niamh. Ye’ve naught tae worry about, and naught tae fear. There’s naething here tae harm ye.”

For several minutes, Niamh did nothing save sob into his shirt while Alistair comforted her. Gradually, the crying faded, until eventually she was leaning against him quietly. Alistair soothed her a few minutes more, then urged her to sit up so he could get her a drink of water from a pitcher on the room’s small table. “That seemed like a fair bad dream ye were having.”

“’Twas.” Niamh’s face was pale as she sipped the water. “I dreamed I was alone, in the midst o’ a great storm. I was with child, and the babe was coming, but nay one would come tae help me. Nay one. And then the wind blew the window shutters off, and the storm blew in like the Wild Hunt unleashed. I felt like I was drowning, or being whipped by the winds, and I cried out, but nay one came. Nay one tae shut the window and protect me from the storm, nor tae help me with the bairn strainin’ tae leave me belly. I was so afraid, and so alone, and I couldnae be sure which would kill me first – the cold, the rain, or the birthin’ o’ the bairn.”

Alistair’s heart clenched in sympathy. He’d never had a dream like that, but he had suffered nightmares about dying alone on the battlefield on occasion. They’d been especially vivid just after the death of his former betrothed – he’d dreamed for nights on end of being alone on the side of the road, or out on the moors, bleeding out from his wounds while he tried desperately to call for help.

“’Tis why I hate the idea o’ marriage.” The soft words made him blink.

“What dae ye mean?”

Niamh gave him a weary, frightened look. “’Tis nae marriage I hate. ‘Tis what marriage means – wifely duties and producing bairns. Me maither died in childbirth, ye ken. I’m afeared the same will happen tae me. The idea o’ carryin’ a child, let alone givin’ birth tae it, terrifies me. And I’ve always kent that any man I married would be expectin’ me tae bear him children. I couldnae face that.”

That explained a great deal and it made Alistair feel like an utter brute for having agreed to try and trick her into wedlock, let alone having dragged her the breadth of the Lowlands to become his bride.

“Yer turn.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Me turn?”

“Aye. Ye said if I told ye why I hate marriage, then ye’d tell me why ye’re against it as well. I’ve told ye, now ye tell me.”

He didn’t want to tell her anything, but he did owe her some explanation. However, he was reluctant to explain the curse to her. Instead, he settled for an answer he hoped she would understand. He pulled the ring he wore from his shirt. “Ye asked about this once before. ‘Twas the ring I gave tae the lass I planned tae wed, nae too long ago.”

“Another forced marriage?”

Alistair shook his head. “Naething o’ the sort. I loved her true. But she was killed by the laird o’ a rival clan, and ‘twas then I realized that bein’ kith and kin tae a laird is a dangerous thing. And I kent I’d rather be alone than face puttin’ anyone in such danger, if it could be avoided.”

“What o’ yer kinfolk?”

“I shield them as best I can and keep them safe as well as I can. But it isnae perfect, and I hate the idea that someone might die fer me. That’s why I never wanted tae pursue another marriage.”