Page 29 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen kept his expression stern as he followed Arya up the hill, his men trailing behind.

His hand was on his blade, and he kept his hand in hers as they walked up to the back wall of Muir Castle.

He frowned, confused as to the lack of guards surrounding the castle.

He couldn’t see anyone even on the battlements.

The light was fading, so it was possible that they couldn’t be seen, but it stuck with him as Arya finally reached the door. She shook it a little, and after a bit of effort with his help, it opened.

“Nay one uses it,” she said by way of explanation, but Cohen was still concerned. Why should a man who was concerned about enemies not close up his castle after his daughter and his prisoner were able to escape?

“This is the other side of the dungeon, but it is close to the back stairs, where I can walk up to Olivia’s chambers. Will ye wait for me there? On the stairs with the men?”

He grimaced, and she touched his face. “Please, Cohen, I daenae want to scare Olivia. I will check the chamber, and then I will return to ye. I promise. Ye will be close enough at hand that ye can hear anythin’.”

He nodded. He wanted Arya to know that he trusted her fully, even if his heart was twisting in agony at the thought of her getting hurt when he couldn’t see her in his vision.

He motioned to his men to move up the stairs and stand against the wall.

Sliding his blade out with his good arm, he leaned back against the wall and nodded to her.

“Be careful,” he mouthed, and she nodded, disappearing through the door above, and his heart ached.

“Shite,” he whispered, waiting for her to return.

How had he gotten into this position? The position of caring so much about someone that it hurt to see them walk potentially into danger?

Now that Sienna was gone and safely away with her own husband and ruling her own clan, he didn’t have to worry about her. But with Arya, it was different.

He looked to Malcolm behind him who gave him a little shrug, and he leaned his head back against the wall, willing himself to wait and wait patiently.

His hurt arm throbbed. Arya had cleaned the stitches that morning, but he couldn’t wait until it was fully well again.

He had many plans for it. None of them involved having to kill her father or fight in a war against his men.

In a matter of minutes, Arya emerged through the door with Olivia on her arm. She looked triumphant. “Come!” she said. “Nay one there!”

Cohen didn’t like it because it was far too easy, but he didn’t care. They would go and ride out into the night with Olivia in their company, and then Arya would be finally and fully his and be finally and fully happy as Lady Sinclair.

“Come, then,” he whispered, and everyone went down the stairs and out the door again, tumbling out into the dark. Cohen kept Arya covered, and Malcolm wrapped an arm about Olivia as they raced into the dark and to the horses in the trees.

By the time they reached the tied horses, he was breathless, and his arm ached even more. He shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair. “Nay guards! I cannae understand it!”

“Nay matter,” Malcolm said, putting Olivia onto Arya’s horse. “We must leave now. We can rest on the road.”

“Aye,” Arya said, jumping up behind her sister and grabbing the reins. “Let us go before the alarm bell is tolled.” She turned away, and without wasting another minute, Cohen jumped up on his horse with a little effort and rushed off behind her, the hooves of his horse’s men galloping behind him.

They rode steadily for two hours until they rode by an inn, and Cohen stalled, nodding to Arya. “We need rest, Lass. So does yer sister. Come.”

“But what of me faither’s men? They could be racin’ after us as we speak. An inn would be the first place they would check, would they nae?”

“They werenae there before, and they willnae be here now,” he said, feeling more tired than he expected.

They kept the horses in the stable, and Cohen was helping Arya and her sister enter the inn as Malcolm and the men settled themselves. Just as they entered, he could feel the first few snowflakes falling.

“Thank God, we made it here in time,” he said, holding onto Arya’s arm as they walked into the warm room.

Arya’s head was spinning. Olivia had hardly spoken two words since they began their ride, and once they entered the inn, her fatigue took over.

Cohen sat them down at a table, and he went to call the innkeeper.

Olivia was wearing a warm plaid, but she was trembling, and Arya remembered just how young she was.

Olivia was only a few years younger than she, but it felt like a lifetime, since Olivia hadn’t had to deal with her father’s wrath as much as Arya had.

“Are ye all right, Olivia?” she asked, watching her closely. Her sister was the picture of her, but with dark eyes instead of blue. She was slightly shorter as well, and her hair was not as curly as Arya’s. She pushed it behind her ear as she nodded.

“Aye, Arya,” she replied, tears filling her eyes. She began to cry in earnest then, and Arya took her into her arms. In a muffled voice, Olivia said, “I cannae tell ye how glad I am that ye have taken me. Faither was goin’ to marry me off to that blasted laird.”

“I ken. He told me himself, and I kenned that I had to come and find ye. We kenned,” she adjusted her words when Cohen sat down across from them.

She smiled at him and reached her hand across the table to touch his. “I cannae thank ye enough, Cohen.”

“Daenae thank me yet, Arya. We will still need to watch ourselves tonight.” His kind brown eyes turned to her sister, and she realized that she hadn’t actually introduced her beloved husband to her dear sister.

“Forgive me. Cohen, this is me younger sister, Olivia.”

“Lovely to meet ye, Olivia. Are ye well?” He reached out to clasp Olivia’s hand, and she took it even though her hands were trembling.

“And ye are?” She looked to Arya for clarification, her lower lip trembling as if she was about to give up in fear and despair.

“Och, Olivia, this is me husband, Cohen. Laird Sinclair. Ye can trust him. He is a good man. Ye will be safe with us.”

“Husband? But Arya, I wasnae there—” Olivia looked pained.

“I ken,” Arya replied. “I wouldnae have wanted it this way, but it was for the best. It had to be done quickly, but now, ye can come and live with us.” She looked at Cohen for confirmation, and he nodded.

“Ye are most welcome, Olivia. I am happy to ken ye.” Arya’s heart melted just a little bit more when she saw Cohen smile at her sister.

Even though they were tired, and he was injured, he still was able to muster a smile for her family.

He had done all this for her. This was love of the truest form.

“Thank ye,” she said in a small voice as the innkeeper approached their table with plates full of food and cups of ale.

“These will warm ye all. It has started to snow. Rooms are bein’ prepared above. There are nae many travelers about, so ye will all be able to fit nicely.”

Arya noticed that Malcolm and the other men had settled themselves into a far corner and were being served as well. “Thank ye,” Cohen said, sliding a few coins into the innkeeper’s hands. “This will cover the cost of me men as well,” he added, hooking a thumb to Malcolm’s table behind him.

Once they were finished eating their dinner, Arya helped Olivia into her own room, where a maid had set a bath. She wished her goodnight, and then she took Cohen’s arm as they walked to the chamber just next door.

When the door was closed behind them, she jumped into his arms and kissed him. Cohen wrapped both strong, warm arms around her, and she was crushed against him, kissing him deeply.

Once she was breathless and kissed thoroughly, she whispered, “Thank ye, Cohen. Thank ye so much. I cannae tell ye what this means to me—” She started to cry again but laughed as Cohen bent down and kissed her tears from her cheeks.

“I daenae ken what ye dae to me, Laird Sinclair, but I have never cried so much in me life!” She hugged him again and kissed him on the cheek, breathing in his comforting scent. “Ye saved me sister, and I will spend the rest of me life makin’ it up to ye.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a wicked grin. “Well, I would say daenae thank me yet like I said downstairs, but ye would be most welcome to thank me now. At this very moment.”

She laughed, and after removing her fur, she pulled his off as well and pulled him against her again.

His body was hard and strong and warm. The weather outside and the excitement of the evening had made her body cold and her muscles tremble, and she could think of nothing better than Cohen wrapped around her that night.

His mouth moved over hers soft and slow, and she pulled away a little. “I ken that ye must be tired.” He pulled her back again.

“Never too tired for ye, Arya,” he said, taking her mouth again, his tongue plunging inside of hers, tasting her deeply.

She helped him with her clothing as he pushed her toward the bed in the center of the room. The room was warm and comfortable, and soon she was free of her things. His hands moved up to her breasts, grasping them through her shift, and she cried out into his mouth.

He pushed her down on the bed and made quick work of his own clothing. “I have never seen someone move so fast,” she chuckled, and then he was on her, skin to skin, the light of the fire the only guide to the lines of his face. She put a finger to his chin, tracing its line, wanting to memorize it.

“I love ye, Lass,” he said, as he positioned himself between her legs.

“And I ye,” she replied, laying her head back when she felt him plunge into her. They moaned with satisfaction at the slick heat and tightness.

“I love to be inside ye, Arya,” he said in a low voice as he began to move, leaning down to kiss her neck.

She arched against him, moving her hips to meet his thrusts as he increased his pace. This was no night of gentle lovemaking. Her blood sang with the need for him, and she grasped his back, moving her hand down to his backside to pull him against her.

“Cohen,” she breathed, loving the fullness of her husband as he moved inside of her. Cohen leaned up a little, kissing her breasts before taking her mouth. Her pleasure built the faster his hips ground against her.

In moments, she climaxed with his name on her lips. After a few more thrusts, he came as well, and he lay slumped on her for a few seconds. She kissed his neck, and he moved to her side, pulling her against him.

“I was scared today, Lass, scared that I might lose ye.” He kissed her head, and Arya snuggled against him.

“I was scared too,” she said, scratching her fingers against his chest. “Scared that I might nae see ye again either. But we made it. We survived.”

He nodded, but Arya could tell that he was holding something back. “What is it?” she prodded.

He shook his head. “I will just be happy to return home, Arya. To where I can keep both ye and Olivia safe.”

Arya sighed and smiled. It would be a beautiful thing to have her and sister both safe and happy once again. Or rather, for the first time.