Claimed by the Highland Warrior. Michelle Willingham
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He couldn’t stop the incredulous lift of a smile, though he felt like a complete fool.
Over the next sennight, their secret courtship continued. One day, he would find that a torn tunic had been mended, while another time, he would reach into the fold of his cloak and find a small handful of fresh blackberries.
Since it wasn’t right to receive gifts without giving any in return, he began leaving Nairna pretty stones or dried flowers, outside her chamber door. Once, he’d traded for a crimson ribbon and she’d smiled the entire day she’d worn it twined in her brown hair.
He couldn’t understand why she’d chosen him as the subject of her affections. But the longer he stayed with her clan, the more she fascinated him. She never bothered him, never tried to speak with him directly. But the quiet kindnesses she showed had somehow made it impossible to stop thinking about her.
One afternoon, he found her huddled beneath a tree during a rainstorm. No one else was about, and from the basket she carried, it was clear she’d been collecting wild mushrooms.
Bram dismounted from his horse and untied his cloak, holding it out to her. ‘Here. You look cold.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s all right. The rain will stop soon.’
He ignored her and walked closer, holding it out. Nairna took one end over her shoulder and held out the other. ‘Share it with me.’
He didn’t want to. The idea of sitting beside a beautiful young woman made him uneasy. He’d likely embarrass himself by saying something foolish.
But then Nairna raised her green eyes to his. ‘Please.’
The softness in her voice reminded him of everything she’d done for him. Against his common sense, he sat beside her, leaning his back against the tree.
Nairna held out the cloak, drawing the end over his shoulders. ‘Do you mind?’ she whispered, huddling close to his side for warmth. He put his arm around her, keeping her wrapped in the woollen cloak. The rain was cool upon his face, and the cloak kept the worst of the weather away from them.
Had it been pouring down rain, he’d not have noticed. Every fibre of his attention was centred upon Nairna. Her head rested against his shoulder and she didn’t try to fill up the space with meaningless words. His heart hammered with nerves, but he reached for her hand.
‘My father came to speak to me this morning,’ Nairna murmured, her palm cool against his. Her voice sounded nervous, as though she were afraid to speak.
Bram waited for her to continue, as he traced the contours of her palm.
Nairna coloured, squeezing his hand as if to gather strength. ‘He said that … I am to be married.’
Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.
A hollow darkness invaded his mood and he couldn’t stop the feelings of anger and unfairness. Though he’d only known her a few weeks, he felt protective of Nairna. You’re mine, he wanted to growl. He’d skewer any man who tried to touch her.
‘You’re not getting married,’ he said tightly. ‘You’re too young.’
‘I’m fifteen,’ she admitted. ‘But you don’t understand. They want an alliance between—’
‘No.’ He cut her off, not wanting to hear it. A possessive jealousy ate him up inside, firing up his temper. He removed the cloak, letting her hold on to it while he paced. He needed to think, to make decisions.
But Nairna rose, walking close to him. She took his hands in hers, and her face reddened. ‘Bram, no. They want me to marry you.’
Shock struck him speechless and, slowly, the blood drained away from his anger. He took a breath, then another, trying to wrap his mind around her words.
‘It’s why they brought you here. So that we could … get to know one another.’
Married. To this girl, who would belong to him. The very thought made him dizzy, afraid that he wouldn’t please her. She didn’t truly know him. He wasn’t the sort of natural leader his younger brother Alex was, nor did he fight as well as his father wanted him to. He had too much to learn and, though he was sixteen, he’d felt the sting of mediocrity. If they married, he had no doubt at all that he’d disappoint her.
Nairna looked down at their linked hands. ‘Say something. If you don’t want to wed me, then I’ll talk to my father.’
He couldn’t find the right words. If he tried to speak right now, not a word would make sense. He reached out to her nape, sliding his hands into her hair.
Refusing to wed her would be the right thing to do, but he couldn’t relinquish the rigid need to be with her.
When dismay filled up her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her for the first time. He tasted the rain and her innocence, and when her mouth moved against his, a reckless desire raged through him.
He wanted her to be his, though she deserved better. And when her arms folded around his waist, her face pressed against his chest, he vowed he would do everything he could to be the husband she wanted.
Chapter Three
Present day
Bram spent the remainder of the night within the stable. He didn’t sleep, though he’d tried. His eyes burned with the aching need for rest, but slumber eluded him still. His conscience taunted him that he could never rest, not with Callum still a captive. And despite the fierce need, he couldn’t command himself to sleep.
He still heard the screams in his memory, the unthinkable images branded into his mind. Darkness held nothing but horror for him, and he supposed it was little wonder that he couldn’t trust himself to close his eyes.
Instead, he’d spent the hours thinking about his wife. The years had transformed her from a bright-eyed girl into a woman who took his breath away. Her kiss had melted away any ability to think clearly and it was a wonder he’d managed to leave her at all.
Even now, his hands were shaking at the thought of touching her. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay her down upon the bed and claim her body with his.
And though he had that right as her husband, she wasn’t ready to lie with him. Not when they were strangers to one another.
His father’s advice on their wedding night drifted into his mind. You’ll know what to do, Tavin had said. Trust your instincts.
If he’d surrendered to his instincts last night, he’d have pulled back the coverlet and used his mouth to taste every last inch of Nairna’s body. And wouldn’t that have shocked his innocent wife?
He wished to God that he’d had even a single night with her, but there’d been no time after he’d left the wedding. His eagerness to fight alongside his father had meant abandoning his new wife in their wedding bed. They’d never consummated the marriage, though their families hadn’t known it.
So many foolish mistakes.
Now, he understood why his father hadn’t wanted him to join in the battle. A hotheaded, untrained lad of sixteen wasn’t ready to face English soldiers. Tavin MacKinloch had shielded him, taking the sword that would have ended Bram’s life.
He’d fallen to his knees before his father’s body, not even caring when he’d been captured. The blood of his father had stained his hands and there was naught that would bring Tavin back again.
The only atonement was to keep the promise he’d made, to look after Callum. The back of his neck began to itch, as if the heavy iron band still encircled it. Bram swallowed hard, forcing away the dark memories.
His gaze settled upon his scarred wrists. No doubt Nairna would be horrified when she saw the rest of him. The more he thought of it, the more he wondered if he had any right to be here.
Did