Page 8 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen kept sighing as he sat at the head of the table in the great hall, awaiting Arya for the evening meal. All in the castle had now heard of his return, and it would soon spread over the lands to the ears of his captor, that he knew. But he still had a little time to start making plans.

It had seemed an age until dinner was ready, and now that it was, he sat staring at the warm, delicious food in front of him, inwardly giving thanks that he’d been able to return to his home.

He was only gone a few days in that dungeon, but those had been the darkest days of his life, and he would fight tooth and nail to keep from going back to that again.

“Where is that lass?” he grumbled, knowing that he wanted to eat but also, he didn’t want to eat without her. Malcolm had questioned his choice to eat with Arya, but Cohen told him, “She’s a guest, Lad. She deserves a fine meal after what she’s been through.”

Malcolm had shrugged and walked away, but Cohen knew that more trouble would come of having Arya around, and he didn’t want to upset anyone unnecessarily, not when his own fate was not yet secure. He took a tired breath and let his mind wander to what had happened that morning.

He leaned back his chair and idly brushed a hand across his bearded chin. He hadn’t been in a bed with a woman for a little while, and he was certainly never in bed with a woman for that long, until the morning when a sweet dream and the sun woke him up.

“Where is the bloody lass?” he said aloud, and he heard the soft squeal of young girl.

He snapped open his eyes to see a servant girl standing in the doorway. “Forgive me, Me Laird, but the lass is nae in yer chambers. We looked. She is nae in hers either. We cannae find her.”

“Shite,” Cohen growled, a pang of fear hitting his chest. “Keep lookin’ for her,” he said to the girl, and she scampered away, no doubt afraid of his angry expression.

But anger was hiding his fear. Had Laird Muir somehow been able to enter the castle and snatch her?

Had she run away on her own and taken a horse?

Was his traitor somehow able to get inside his chamber and take her away?

A thousand questions descended upon his mind as he left the great hall and began his search of the downstairs floor.

He mentioned it to each servant he met with, but he didn’t see Malcolm, and he didn’t want to tell him Arya was lost.

“No need to worry the lad just yet.”

But it was he who was worried, and he felt his heart pick up pace with each room he entered in which he didn’t find her.

Rubbing a worried hand down his face, he could feel himself starting to sweat.

If Laird Muir had somehow been able to take her back, he thought with pain about what a life returned to her father would be like, especially after she had done such a heinous crime as running away, taking his prisoner with her.

“Damn it, Lass. Where are ye?” he said to the empty air before he finally entered the library, seeing it as the last resort to where she might be hiding.

He took a calming breath as he walked inside.

The library was always his parents’ favorite sanctuary, and over the years they had filled it with more books than anyone had thought possible.

Cohen, too, with a love for reading, had worked to fill it with new books, and he would escape to it when he could, whenever his duties as Laird didn’t take up his time.

The large room was famous in the Highlands, and he often had visitors, sometimes even learned men coming from Edinburgh wishing to see it and to study the books inside.

It was the library he saw in his mind’s eye as he sat in Muir Castle’s dank dungeon.

It was the one place he was sure he wanted to return to.

Stepping a little further inside, he called out Arya’s name.

It was a big room, and there were lots of nooks and crannies in which to hide.

But when he finally got to the hearth, he spotted her, laying in one of the larger chairs.

She was curled up with an open book in her hands, fast asleep, looking like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Damn it all!” he said loudly, his rage filling him that he had wasted such fear and energy for nothing. Hurrying to her side, he shook her shoulder, attempting to wake her.

“Arya,” he said. “Get up now, Lass.” He was grumbling, and he was sure his face looked twisted in anger, but he didn’t care. He was going to take her to task. He could have sworn he locked that door to the chamber. How in the Hell did she get downstairs?

“What?” Arya asked in a groggy voice, pushing his hand aside and stretching out a little bit.

The book fell to the floor with a thunk, and she jolted more fully awake, only to settle her eyes on Cohen.

He swallowed, furious that his body was thinking about how warm and soft she looked and not so much about how she’d just spent hours out of the safety of the chamber.

He could tell how he looked by the way she pulled back from him. “What is it?” she asked warily.

“Why in the bloody Hell are ye sittin’ in here?” he said angrily, standing up and starting to pace in front of the fire. She stood up and brushed herself off, stiffening a little at his angry tone.

“Sleepin’! What do ye think I was daein’?” She said, and Cohen turned around to look at her again. Before he could stop himself, he drew her into his arms and hugged her.

Once he finally caught up with himself, he blinked his eyes in surprise and whispered against her ear, “I thought that somehow yer faither had come back to find ye.” Slowly, he pulled away, and his hands slid across her waist, and he settled his eyes on hers.

Her cheeks were pink, and he could feel the frenzied flutter of the pulse at her ribs.

Her hair was done in such a pretty way that he found himself wanting to bring her back into his arms again and more.

It was a dangerous thought and a dangerous feeling.

One he most certainly shouldn’t give any more time to.

“Well, he didnae,” she said in a husky reply. Swallowing hard, she stepped out of his embrace and sat back down again. Cohen turned around and thrust an angry hand through his hair, mussing it about.

Why was he nearly going mad thinking about this lass being taken? She was no relation to him, and he had no duty to do by her. He had agreed to help her, and that was it. Now that she was here, in his life, now somehow worming her way into his mind, he had to find a way to get her on her journey.

He couldn’t deal with this emotional upheaval every day, or he’d go insane. Swinging around again, he pinned her with his gaze, hoping to come across as the angry Laird, not the concerned man who’d just taken her into his arms like a lover.

He put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. Everyone else for miles around thought him fearsome. Why didn’t Arya Donaldson think so? She was watching him with a lifted brow, practically daring him to fight back.

If Cohen Kirk thought that because he’d helped her escape her father, he was entitled to scold her and boss her about, then he had another thing coming. Arya crossed her arms as she sat in the chair, watching him with narrowed eyes, wondering just what he’d say next.

She certainly had an earful to give him if he said anything that bordered on scolding and control. Now that she was a free woman, she decided she wasn’t going to put up with men trying to force her to do things any longer. She was going to live her own life and leave behind such men.

“How in God’s name did ye get out of that chamber?

” he asked through clenched teeth, and she could tell that he was attempting to keep a tight rein on his anger.

However, his warm embrace and soft whisper of concern in her ear had confused her, making that light flutter of warmth fill her body again.

She preferred this angry, distant Cohen, even if he was an annoying blaigeard.

“It was unlocked,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Damn it,” he said, turning around to face the fire. He lifted a hand to the mantle and leaned, looking down into the flames. Arya watched him. Now that he couldn’t see her, there was no harm in looking at him, was there?

She remembered the jolt of fear at realizing that Cohen had his arm about her that morning, being naked as he was, but there was also a warm sense of pleasure.

She had never been held by a man before, never even been kissed or seen a man naked in any way, and she’d felt a little undone at the sight of him.

Now that she knew what his chest and arms looked like underneath his clothes, she couldn’t help but imagine him without them again: long corded muscle, scarred rough skin, sprouting of dark hair making a deep V toward his manhood.

She swallowed, trying hard to keep focused. If she didn’t want him to take the lead, then she had to take back control and make sure that she didn’t falter.

“I told ye to stay there. Why did ye nae listen?” he said to the fire.

Arya stood up, bored of all this. “Ye are nae me faither, allowed to order me about.”

Cohen swung around and flashed his angry eyes at her. “I certainly did that last night, did I nae? And ye listened. Ye even allowed me to sleep with ye in me bed.”

Arya flushed right up to the roots of her dark hair, and she said, “What was I to do? It was either guards at one end or lay in the bed with one man at the other end. It was hardly a choice.”

“Answer me. Why did ye leave?” His hands were clenched into fists, and Arya was struck, not for the first time, how Cohen didn’t scare her at all.

She wasn’t used to that. He was large, angry, and he had a firm way about him that made him commanding.

But at the same time, he had such a lovely smile and bright eyes, and he cared for the people in his charge.

She could tell by the way he spoke to everyone they’d encountered thus far, even if that wasn’t yet many.

So even though his fists were clenched, and his eyes were like two balls of fire, she knew deep down that he would never hurt her in the way her father did. He didn’t have it in him; he was a different kind of man.

Throwing up her arms, she said, “I couldnae stay in there all day. It is like I have left one dungeon to jump into another! Can ye nae understand that?”

She stared him down, and his fists were still clenched as he looked back at her, but he nodded tightly. “Aye, I suppose I can. I didnae think of it like that. I am sorry, Lass.”

He sat down, and it was like all the angry air in the room had suddenly left.

Arya stepped back a little; she was so surprised by the feeling.

Never, in the whole of her life, had a man apologized to her.

Thinking back, she realized that Cohen had done it several times in the small space of time of their acquaintance.

She had no need for men or marriage or any desire to be controlled, but with a man like Cohen, would it be so bad?

He was still watching her as if waiting for her to reply.

His brown eyes were full of a little fire from their argument, his fears, and now they had something else in them.

She wasn’t sure what that look was, but it made her feel like her legs had turned to jelly. She licked her lips and looked away.

Thinking it would be best to sit down instead of standing staring at him like a dolt, she did.

And for a few seconds, they watched each other from their seats.

She cleared her throat at long last and said, “I am sorry for making ye worried.” For that is what he had been, and she also realized that no man had ever worried about her before either.

She was experiencing all kinds of new things when it came to men.

“I ken that me presence is a bit of a hindrance, but I will be gone soon once I can think of where to go next. Once me sister is safe as well,” she reminded him.

Cohen nodded and leaned forward so that his elbows were on knees, and his hands folded together. Arya wasn’t sure why but this position stimulated attraction in her even more, for it was so very manly while at the same time being boyish and innocent.

“Aye, but the matter with yer faither and me captor has to be resolved first. There is nay chance we can return to Muir Castle while the traitor is still at large. It would just be askin’ to return to the dungeons.”

Nodding, she swallowed back tears, thinking about her sister and if she was suffering greatly, calling out for Arya in the night to return to her, to save her from their brutish father.

With a little gasp, Arya noticed that Cohen had moved to the seat next to her, and he took up her hand.

They seemed to be playing a sort of odd game.

One moment, they were yelling at each other, and the next moment, they were close together, giving each other warm, inscrutable looks.

Her heart thundered away, and she felt his rough thumb caress the back of her hand and his fingers squeeze hers.

“I promise that I will help yer sister. But we will help nay one, and we may even make her situation worse if we storm yer faither’s castle right now.

And since I daenae ken who has turned me in, that same traitor could easily warn him we were comin’ anyway. Dae ye understand?”

“Aye.” Arya breathed out. She never knew that a certain look and a tone of voice could render her completely calm in the face of such an uncertain and likely dangerous future.

“Good,” he said with a smile, his mouth so close to hers, her eyes flicked down to it, wondering if he would kiss her. She realized she wanted him to, and she closed her eyes and waited for it.

But then, a woman’s voice, loud and commanding, filled the room, making Arya jump and stand up and nearly trip over the book she had dropped earlier.

“Dear brother! Yer alive! I kenned that I would find ye here!”