Page 57 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Whatever he’d done to leave him so blood-splattered and filthy, he’d done it for her. Just as before, when he’d killed the men attacking her, the gore that stained his clothing and skin was a sign of how far he’d gone to protect her.

It was terrifying, yes. But it was also… she wasn’t sure she had words for how it made her feel. The fact that he’d gone so far to protect her, to care for her, made her feel a sort of warmth, even in the midst of her turmoil and uncertainty.

Staring at his bloodstained clothing and skin, she was conscious of her burning need for answers, but even more aware of his need for some care and consideration. In the face of his obvious weariness and distress, her need for answers dimmed.

Answers could wait. What was important now was caring for her husband, in whatever capacity he needed. If he needed a bath, then she could help him with that.

Niamh stepped closer and slowly undid the belt that held his sword. Alistair twitched. “What are ye doin’?”

“Helpin’ ye undress fer yer bath. Ye’ll feel better when ye’re clean. Everything else can be dealt with later.” She set the belt aside, then began to undo his sash. When that was done, she bent to undo the fastenings of his boots.

“Why? Ye…”

“Because I wish tae.” The words came easily, astounding Niamh with how right they felt. And yet, there was no other reason for her actions. She wanted to assist her husband, in whatever manner would help him be less distressed.

Alistair braced himself as she removed the boots, then rose to begin unlacing his vest and shirt. Together, the two of them removed the rest of his clothing, and Alistair stumbled toward the bath, sinking into the warm water with a groan.

At any other time, she would have been nervous or embarrassed, to be around a naked man. Especially her husband. She would have been thinking of the things that undressing usually led to between a man and a woman. This time, however, it was clear that neither of them were interested in doing anything of the sort.

Instead, all she felt was tenderness, and a desire to soothe whatever had aggrieved her husband to the point of his withdrawn and melancholy state.

The water was tinted pink with the blood washed from his body, but his hands were trembling too much to do anything beyond cleaning the blood off his face and arms. Niamh took the soft cloth and soap, then carefully wiped away the splatters on the sides of his neck and shoulders. When that was done, she took a spare pitcher that had been left on the fireplace and tipped part of the contents over his head.

Alistair shuddered as the warm water cascaded over his shoulders. He stilled as she took the soap and began to lather it through his hair, working to ensure that each and every drop of blood was washed away.

She was nearly finished when Alistair finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “They werenae brigands. They were sellswords, sent by a man named Fergus MacTavish.”

“MacTavish? I think I’ve heard that name afore…” She was fairly certain she’d heard someone mention it, but she couldn’t recall when she’d heard it.

“He’s the worst rival our clan has. He’s a ruthless, cold-blooded man, who will stop at naething tae get what he wants. And all he wants is power and land - as much as he can tak’.” Alistair’s voice was heavy. “He’s plagued me clan fer years, harrying us at the borders, stealing crops, destroying farms just when we cannae afford the losses - I’ve heard he’s in league with the English, but I cannae prove it. All I ken is that, fer years, me clan has suffered losses tae him. Nae anything I can tak’ tae a Highland Gathering, o’ course. And with the fightin’ with the English, I cannae appeal tae king or crown. ‘Tis why he’s gotten so much bolder - bold enough tae attack me directly.”

“Was he behind what happened at the wedding feast?”

“Aye. I’d stake me honor as a laird on it.” Alistair’s hands clenched on the sides of the tub. “’Tis the sort o’ underhanded trick he’d try - one that cannae be traced back tae him, so it has nae consequences. ‘Tis like the ‘bandits’ that have killed so many o’ our folk. His raiders are careful nae tae get caught wearin’ anything tae link them tae the MacTavish clan.”

“But ye’re sure it was him?”

“Aye. We’ve scouts who have seen them reportin’ tae men wearing his colors. And tae his second-in-command. An’ there was one attack, where we… where he wanted us tae ken who was responsible. He wanted me tae ken who killed…” His words choked off.

Niamh had a feeling she knew who he was talking about. His first betrothed, the woman whose ring she now wore. She also knew that this was the wrong time to reveal that she knew, or to ask for more information.

There was a part of her that was terrified. She’d been frightened enough by the idea of being married, but now she was being dragged into a feud that had nothing to do with her. Twice she’d nearly died because of the vendetta between the MacDuff and MacTavish clans - nearly been killed in a power struggle that had nothing to do with her.

The larger part of her, however, wasn’t afraid so much as angry. It was clear that Fergus MacTavish had threatened her and tried to hurt her before she even knew who he was, or what his goals were. He’d attacked her without provocation, just because she happened to be with Alistair. And he was causing her husband pain.

The anger at being attacked, especially by a man who was cowardly enough to use children, drove her fear away like wind sweeping aside mist.

“If ye want tae leave, tae return tae the safety o’ yer clan…”

“Dinnae finish that sentence, or ye’ll wish ye’d never thought it.” Niamh shook her head sharply in negation. “I’m nae running away, Alistair. I dinnae care what sort o’ tricks this MacTavish tries tae use, or how many times he comes after me. I’ll face him by yer side, until he’s nae a problem fer either o’ us anymore.”

Alistair was silent for a long moment. “I dinnae want ye tae get hurt just fer bein’ with me.”

“Then I’ll just have tae be more careful.” Niamh leaned gently into his broad shoulder and wrapped her arm around his strong chest. “I’m nae goin anywhere, husband. Whatever MacTavish tries, and whatever the future holds, we’ll be facin’ it taegether, ye and I.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Alistair woke from a troubled sleep to the sound of a soft hitching breath beside him. Niamh stirred in an uneasy dream, but before he could reach out to her, she settled, curling into the warmth of the blankets with a soft sigh. Alistair watched her sleep for a few moments, then slid himself silently out of bed. The crispness of the air suggested it was already dawn, or close to it, and he knew there was no chance of going back to sleep.