Page 16 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen tried to keep his expression even as he met with Malcolm, but even as the man droned on about meat quantities and how the kitchen would divide it up and store it, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to Arya.

By God, she had tasted good. He was not an inexperienced man; he had been with many women, and had a great desire for them, but never in his life had he wanted to taste a woman as much as he did Arya.

It was like he couldn’t breathe until he had put his mouth on her and listened to her innocent cries of pleasure as he brought her to climax with his swirling tongue.

Even if she might have felt shuddering and powerless in his grasp as she climaxed, he could feel her power and strength, and it made him want her even more.

From their first kiss taken hastily in a moment of anger, Cohen knew that he had come to care for her.

Their kiss had sparked that tiny affection into flame, and even though he knew it might be dangerous, he couldn’t help it.

He liked having Arya around, and he was eager to be with her again that night once darkness had settled, and the castle would fall into silence.

They could spend a whole evening together without anyone being the wiser.

It was a tantalizing image. Arya in his bed, unclothed, the woolen blanket barely covering the swell of her breasts—

“Me Laird?” Malcolm asked, bringing Cohen back to the present. “I asked if ye had any preferences for the meat to be cooked first and which meat the men should take.”

Cohen cleared his throat, trying to avoid embarrassment. He hoped he hadn’t also been drooling at the thought of a naked Arya.

“Nay, nay, I have nay preference. Ye may choose for the men. Although, did ye pick up that rabbit the lass caught?”

Malcolm smiled, and Cohen nearly fainted at the sight. Malcolm was not one to show too much emotion, especially not a happy one. “Aye, we did. I thought that the lass’ skills shouldnae go unrecognized. Besides, it is winter, and it is a waste to let meat go uneaten. Here is the arrow she used.”

Malcolm pulled an arrow out of his pack and laid it on the table. Cohen looked at it, remembering just how smug Arya had looked when it was shot right through the unsuspecting rabbit, surprising his men.

“Ye ken, I think I would have a preference. Tell the cook to make the rabbit tonight for me and Arya. Ye can choose the venison or whatever else ye like for the men. But make sure to save the best meat for the Yuletide celebrations in a couple days.”

“Very good, Me Laird. I will tell the cook.” Malcolm was still giving some sort of a smile, and Cohen chuckled.

“Good to see yer spirits are raised, Lad,” he said as he walked toward the door.

“Yers too, Me Laird,” Malcolm replied, and Cohen paused for a moment. Malcolm looked innocent enough as he turned to leave the other direction toward the kitchens, but Cohen wondered what he’d meant.

Had Cohen been like Malcolm before Arya came into his life?

He hated the thought of it. Malcolm was cold and angry, as if some bad thing had happened to him.

Nothing that bad had happened to Cohen, except the early deaths of his parents and his recent capture by Laird Muir.

But that was far better than most. Arya had it far worse than he ever did, yet he saw her smile and tease with gusto, and she brought a refreshing energy with her each day that she was in his castle.

He kept this thought in his mind as he walked to his study, passing a servant on the way. “Lad, be sure to have enough wood cut for the evenin’. I want large fires in the hall. It is to be a cold one.”

“Aye, Me Laird. Well thought. The snow has begun,” the young man said. “We have already cut a number of logs this morn in preparation.”

“Has it? Good, good,” Cohen said, before turning back to head toward his study.

Once he was inside the smaller room, he sighed as if he’d been holding his breath.

He walked to the large window that was positioned behind his desk and stared out into the night.

There were hundreds of torches around Sinclair Castle, and so he could see out onto the dark land.

Light snowflakes were tumbling down from the sky, beginning to blanket the world in white.

He was glad they had done the hunting that day, for with a snowstorm in the Highlands, one could never tell how long it would last. Or how deep the snow would fall.

They would have enough meat for weeks after seeing how well his men had done that afternoon.

He put his hands behind his back, thinking about the future.

There still hadn’t been any progress in figuring out which of his men had betrayed him.

Malcolm hadn’t noticed anything unusual in the days before his kidnapping.

And Cohen didn’t have the heart to suspect Malcolm who had been with the family for years.

It was not as if the man would earn anything by Cohen’s death. In fact, he would lose much.

And what did Laird Muir have to do with any of it? Why did he want Cohen? After Cohen had been put in the dungeon, the Laird had never come to speak to him. Cohen had only heard snatches of the words ‘execution’ from various guards who had come to feed him. That was it.

Cohen rubbed a hand over his beard. And then there was Arya.

She was there, and he had a duty to her.

He needed to help fulfill his promise of getting her sister out of Muir Castle, but it was more than that.

Today, what happened in the library was the first step toward something more between them.

He wanted to help her be happy, but he didn’t want her to leave.

And, he decided, he wanted tonight to be extra special. Especially if it meant that he was going to get to kiss her again.

Arya stepped out of the bath in her chamber, warm water streaming down her skin. It felt good to be clean after riding out into the cold and nearly dying from a wolf attack.

And having a man’s head between yer thighs.

She clamped her eyes shut and groaned, trying her best to shut down that annoying voice in her head.

Ever since she’d experienced the most exquisite pleasure of her life, just a couple of hours before, her mind had gone wild with all sorts of inappropriate phrases, ideas, and desires.

It felt like her whole body was blushing ever since Cohen left the library with a sly, handsome grin on his face.

She had given herself to a man, and while she was glad that man was Cohen, she didn’t know how to react to it.

The act they performed in the library was so intimate, and yet she felt safe clutched tightly in his arms. Not once in that experience did she feel guilty or scared or humiliated.

It was something to think about, and she could think of nothing else ever since.

She dried herself off, and a few minutes later, the maid arrived as planned to help her into a fresh gown. “This one will do well for ye, Miss,” the maid said, smiling at her. “It is one of Lady Sienna’s, but she left it here once she got married.”

“Thank ye. It is lovely.”

Arya was happy that this was a pretty gown and not so serviceable as her thick woolen ones were. The maid helped her tie her stays over her shift and helped to button the back of the gown as well. It was a dark green, and it was low, far lower than the other gowns she’d worn in her life.

She put a hand on her stomach and looked at the reflection in the looking glass. “Do ye think it too low?” she asked nervously, biting her lip. “Me faither never let me wear such things.”

“Well,” the maid said with a twinkle in her eye, “Yer faither is nae here, is he?” Then she took a thin green ribbon and tied it around Arya’s neck.

Arya brushed her fingertips across the soft silk ribbon and smiled. “Nay, he is nae here.”

Thank God.

By the time the maid was finished pinning her hair into soft curls on top of her head, Arya was very, very nervous.

It was like seeing Cohen for the first time, after what they’d done in the library, and now that everyone was gone from the castle, it would be just them eating dinner together that night.

She couldn’t help but think about his offer of doing that act again to her. That wanton, forbidden, heavenly act.

“Ye look lovely, Miss,” the young maid said.

Arya replied. “Ye are very kind. What is yer name, so that I may use it when I speak to ye?”

“Sara, Miss.” The girl blushed, pushing a lock of brown hair back up into her white cap.

“Well, thank ye, Sara.”

“Most welcome, Miss. Enjoy yer dinner.” The girl left and shut the door quietly after her. Arya stood up again to look into the full-length looking glass and to give herself the chance to take in a few deep breaths.

Her eyes traveled from her dark hair to her ribbon to her low bodice to where a pair of slippers peeked out from under her skirts.

The maid had been kind enough to bring a pair of Lady Sienna’s old shoes as well.

They were only a little too tight, but they would do.

It was better than clomping around the great hall in thick riding boots.

She hadn’t cared much about it before, but tonight was different.

“Ye might as well go down, Lass,” Arya said to herself, giving herself a quick nod and a smile and leaving the chamber.

Slowly, likely too slowly, Arya was making her way down the stairs, dragging her hand along the stone wall as she did, trying to keep her balance.

With each step closer to Cohen, her heart set into a new pace, and she wondered if it would ever get easier seeing him after this.

Or if there would ever be some other man who would make her feel this way.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she realized that she wasn’t sure she wanted another man to take up that position, and that scared her a little. It had only been days since she’d met Cohen. Was she really thinking of a future with the man? He was insufferable!

Or maybe nae?

She shook her head at her own foolishness as she made her way across the entrance toward the closed wooden doors of the great hall. Swallowing and then taking a big breath, she opened one and saw Cohen rise to his feet.

The hall was warm and merry, fires crackling in all four hearths, and the scent of pine was strong in the air.

Pine boughs had been strewn across all mantles, and the main long table of the great hall was covered in good food.

Her eyes returned to Cohen, and he was smiling at her, looking handsome.

His beard had been trimmed, and he was wearing a white shirt, a dark jacket, and the Sinclair kilt.

His hands were behind his back, and Arya felt a little flutter in her chest.

It was already too late. She knew it. After closing the door behind her, she walked up to him, getting the feeling like she was walking into a scene from the rest of her life.