Page 7 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen was in the middle of a beautiful dream, and he didn’t want to wake up.

Not yet. He was holding Arya once more, only this time, she was facing him, and she was snuggling against his neck, making soft moans of contentment.

It was so warm and safe, and an old but familiar desire for companionship that he’d kept hidden sprang into action.

He breathed in her scent, the soap that was made in his castle, and he pulled her closer.

But he paused when the dream felt all too real.

He opened one eye and then the other and looked down to see that Arya really was there in his arms, her cheek against his neck, her lovely dark hair close to his nose.

Swallowing, he tried to recollect himself.

He didn’t want to move and wake her, but he also knew that if she suddenly awoke and found herself in his arms, she’d accuse him of some kind of wrongdoing.

To make matters worse, he was as hard as a rock, since it was morning, and he was in very close proximity with a warm, soft, beautiful woman. He had no choice. He had to move, and he had to get his mind to think of something other than red lips, luscious curves, and sweet moans of pleasure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he tried to roll her over to her side, back across the disassembled wall of pillows.

He couldn’t help but smirk at that. She moved a little, but she didn’t wake, and Cohen moved even slower.

Soon, she was almost there, almost on her own side of the bed, and wincing, he pulled out his arm from underneath her back.

Just as he was nearly free, Arya awoke and snapped opened her big, beautiful eyes.

She turned to face him and saw that his arm was still partially caught under her.

“What are ye daein’?” she said with a fury, and she pulled back and nearly fell off the bed in her haste to get away.

Cohen stayed stock still for a second, trying to think of how to explain what had happened.

She pointed at the pillows. “Why are they all in disarray? Ye were tryin’ to come over to my side, lad! How could ye? I trusted ye!”

Cohen sat up, and Arya gasped as his blanket nearly fell below his waist, to reveal what he most certainly didn’t want her to see.

He grasped at the blanket to lift it higher, and he groaned, realizing that he had taken the tunic off in the night and was now completely bare underneath that blanket.

It was the worst possible time to be naked.

Tapping her foot with impatience, Arya stared at him, her eyes two slits and said, “I kenned it was a bad idea for me to stay in here with ye. Ye can never trust a man!”

Cohen saw that she looked almost in tears, but she turned away.

He finally said, “Lass! Please calm down. Naythin’ happened.

I swear to ye. I swear to God Almighty that I didnae touch ye in any way deemed inappropriate.

I just woke up, and we were…embracin’.” He grimaced at his uncomfortable choice of words.

But the angry color in Arya’s cheeks seemed to subside a little with his explanation.

“Then what were ye daein’ just now, yer arm under me on me side of the bed?

” She bit her lip, and he could tell that it truly was difficult for her to trust a man.

He could understand her feelings after seeing what her father was like.

“I was tryin’ to put ye back on yer side, so that ye wouldnae awake and be embarrassed about it. But I didnae succeed.” He put his hands together in a position of prayer.

“I beg ye to believe me, Lass. I would never hurt ye. I would never hurt any woman. I swear it.”

He waited with bated breath as Arya searched his eyes, her lips pursed in thought. “All right,” she said. “I believe ye.”

He sighed with relief. “Good. Now, ye will need to turn around so that I may dress.” Grinning, he watched her cheeks flush again, and she turned around as quickly as possible.

He slid out of bed and put on his tunic and trousers that he’d tossed to the side in the middle of the night when he’d gotten too hot.

Grateful that his manhood was no longer hard and aching, he was able to wash his face and finish dressing before he turned back to Arya.

She was sitting at the fire now, staring into the flames.

“I need to go and see the men, Arya. There is much to be done and prepared. Stay here. I will send a servant to ye to bring yer meals.”

She didn’t reply, and a stiff knock at the door made them both jump.

Opening it, Cohen saw Malcolm looking solemn on the other side of the door.

He cleared his throat, and Cohen was unnerved by the frown on his man-at-arm’s face.

“Ye will have to forgive what occurred last evening, Me Laird. But the men wish to speak to ye now. Word has spread all through the ranks, and they wish only to see ye for themselves. To ken that yer return is true.”

Cohen hesitated, but Malcolm added, “It will be good for them, to strengthen morale, ye see. The Clan and the village were at a loss when we couldnae discover yer whereabouts.”

Cohen gave Malcolm a stiff nod, and he turned back to Arya. “Stay here, Lass,” he reminded her before he shut the door and set after Malcolm, matching his determined gait down the passage and down the wide staircase.

“The training grounds?” Cohen asked, and Malcolm nodded, his eyes facing forward.

“How long will the lass stay with ye, Me Laird? Ye must ken that I am nae comfortable havin’ her here, when there could be many spies sent to watch over ye, ready to strike at just the right moment. They could be usin’ her.”

“I understand yer concern, Malcolm, but it is nae her, and I will explain that to the men. Besides, she doesnae intend to stay. She is only waitin’ until she can find a place to escape to.”

“Escape?” Malcolm asked. He’d slowed his gait and was now looking at Cohen with a raised brow.

Cohen waved a hand in the air, dismissing his man’s concerns.

They wove their way through the castle until they made it to the central training area.

When Cohen came outside, he saw the ground was covered in frost, and the men who were practicing stopped and looked up at his approach.

They were clad in furs and caps, and everyone’s breath was making white curls into the air.

Smiles covered their faces as they watched him approach.

“Welcome back, Me Laird!” they cried, and Cohen was pleased to see them look so happy. He couldn’t believe that any one of them would betray him, but appearances were deceiving. He kept that in mind as he began his story, thinking about how very much Arya’s looks could be used to her own advantage.

Arya had dressed in clothes the servant girl had brought to her.

It was a thick woolen gown with another uncomfortably stiff bodice, but it would have to do.

She pulled and yanked at it as she stood in front of the looking glass, scrunching her nose in discomfort, but she admired the plaid she’d been given to wear with Sinclair colors.

The maid had done her hair as well as a kind gesture, and Arya’s black locks were now twisted into a fashionable bun at the base of her neck, a few strands pulled out to frame her face. She felt better than she had in a long while, even though she wondered what her father was doing right then.

And if he has Olivia in his grasp.

Shaking off the terrible images of her sister’s pain that flashed through her mind, she comforted herself with Cohen’s promise. He would go back and save her, but first, of course, he would have to find out just who had betrayed him. It wouldn’t be safe to return to Muir Castle until then.

“Stay safe, Olivia,” she whispered under her breath as a prayer.

After that, she settled down to eat her morning meal, but she couldn’t bear to be kept in the chamber for the rest of the day. It was just like a new dungeon, wasn’t it? After she finished eating, she started getting angrier and angrier as the minutes passed.

“Why did he do this? Why am I nae free to go anywhere else?” She groaned as she paced, until she decided to try the door to even see if it was locked. She hadn’t heard the click of it when Cohen left.

She turned the knob, and it opened. Giving a little squeal of delight, Arya hurried out into the passageway, feeling afresh the new taste of freedom.

She also noticed the little prick of satisfaction that she was disobeying a man’s orders.

For a little while she explored the upstairs.

Passage after passage were to be explored, and she trailed her hands along the rough stone until she passed by a painting or a weapon hanging upon the walls.

She was impressed by how sparkling clean everything was.

According to her knowledge, Laird Sinclair was not a married man, and so he likely handled the matters of the house.

He had directed his servants well, for there was hardly a cobweb or a crooked painting to be seen.

She peeked into a few chambers as she passed, most of them bedchambers with bright fires, and she wondered if that helped to keep the castle as warm as it felt to her.

It was a cheery place, and even though the ancient Yuletide celebrations had been abolished for many years, there was still some attempt at celebration of the closing of the year.

The downstairs was just as lovely, and there were thick carpets covering many of the passage floors.

It gave the impression that it was even warmer in the house, and she peeked into the great hall, nearly double the size of her own home.

There were three large hearths, all with fires crackling in them.

She smiled at the image of parties and feasts taking place there, and she wondered if she would ever be a guest at one of them.

Pulling back from the door, she frowned. Why are ye thinkin’ about that? Ye have a new life to get to, far away from here.

She hurried away from the hall before she thought anymore of foolish parties and festivities or Cohen smiling as he sat among his people drinking ale and laughing.

Finding a large set of doors down one passageway, she tentatively pushed them open and sucked in a breath when she realized she had found the library.

“Incredible,” she said, looking around at the large room.

The hearth was at the far end with a blazing fire inside it, and many comfortable chairs were seated around it.

There were desks and other tables around the room, tucked into corners pushed against walls.

Every wall was covered in books. Wherever space was to be had, books filled it.

Arya covered her mouth and felt tears come to her eyes.

The room smelled of leather and paper and woodsmoke, and it made her happier than she ever thought she could be.

Her father, long ago, had deprived her of the library as one of her punishments, and that was the one that had stung the most. Moving to one of the walls, she brushed her hand against the spines of volume after volume, just drinking in the beauty of the place.

Even before her father had kept his library locked and away from her, telling servants they would lose their position if they let her in, it had never been as large or as beautiful as this.

“Cohen must love books himself to have acquired so many.”

The image of a handsome Cohen sitting in a heavy leather chair by the fire with a book in his hands made a warmth gather in her belly and go lower. She shook her head, reminding herself to stay focused.

“Ye are in the most beautiful library ye have ever seen, and ye think about a man?” She scoffed at her distractedness and set to work finding a book. Once she came upon one, she snuggled into one of the largest chairs by the fire and started to read.

Hours passed. She wasn’t even sure of how many, but it was perfect bliss to sit in peace and warmth to read as much as she wanted.

There was no yelling, no demands, no old, sweaty male suitors pawing at her in a closed room, and no being dragged to the dungeon for not listening.

If there ever was a Heaven, Arya knew that this would be it.

But the warmth and happiness and coziness of it all became too much. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she slowly drifted away into slumber.