Page 12 of Love Me Forever (Highland Duo #2)

I care for you.

Those words had haunted Brianna for the last week, still uncertain how he meant them. He sounded as though he truly cared for her, not took care of her, and she had wondered over it these many days.

She was up and about now and grew stronger day by day. Her steps were slow and sometimes laborious, the pain in her lower back refusing to completely subside. In time she was sure it would, but for now she would pay heed to its annoying presence and rest when necessary.

Her thoughts, however, continued to drift to Royce. Try as she might he was a constant presence in her mind, but then they spent almost every moment of the day together. The only time they were apart was when he went hunting for food, and he was never gone long.

They slept comfortably together like lovers long familiar with each other, and though they were never intimate, his hands forever touched her, and his arms constantly embraced her.

He had dressed her in her night shift with the tenderness of a man who cared, and he looked after her every need like a man who . . .

Loved?

Nonsense, pure nonsense. He did not love her. He simply cared.

What was love anyway? She had thought herself desperately in love with her husband, and she had foolishly been mistaken. She did not wish to repeat the mistake, and while Royce seemed caring, so had her husband. He had been courteous and oh so charming.

She smiled. Royce was not charming, he was direct in his manner, and she believed him a man of his word. Odd that she should believe him after she had sworn never to believe another man again.

If she gave this situation serious thought, she might consider that she felt as she did because Royce had rescued her from certain death. He saved her life, and therefore she was grateful to him.

He did save her life and she was grateful, but another emotion haunted her, and she was uncertain of its origin. And until she could reason it, she would keep her feelings to herself.

The cottage door opened and Royce entered, followed by a flurry of snow.

“More snow?” she asked with the excitement of a child.

“A fresh coating, no more, I think.” He hurried out of his fur cloak and to the fireplace, holding his hands out to warm them “You like the snow?”

“Aye, especially when it is freshly fallen.”

“Freshly fallen snow covers tracks.” His remark was left for her to think on.

Brianna needed no time to think—her response came quick. “When the weather permits, my brother will have men out looking for me. He probably only recently discovered that I never arrived at my destination.”

“He will wait for the weather?”

“Would you not?” she asked curiously. “It would be wise. You said yourself that freshly fallen snow covers tracks.”

“Aye, it does; the more snow, the heavier the cover. It would be best to attempt a rescue even with a snowfall, for if more snow follows, it will make it nearly impossible to find any trail.”

She asked the question that had been on her mind and tongue. “Will you return me to my brother’s home if he cannot find me?”

His decision had already been made. “Aye, I will.”

She smiled. “Then the snow can keep falling.”

“You will be stuck here with me.”

“I am not stuck with you. I visit with you and I enjoy your company.

“I enjoy yours,” he said in turn, adding his own smile.

His lip was no longer swollen, and the wound was healing nicely.

The swelling around his eye had faded, though a slight discoloration lingered, but the scar on his face looked as though it had barely healed.

It was red and swollen in spots, and while most of the wound had crusted, one or two spots refused to close completely.

His face was not a sight many would wish to look upon, but Brianna had grown accustomed to him, and his distorted features did not disturb her at all.

She wondered occasionally what he looked like before his face had suffered such a horrendous assault. His looks mattered little to her. Her husband had been a handsome man and she had to admit she had been drawn to his stunning features; perhaps that was what had blinded her to his true character.

Royce’s face was so badly distorted that she could barely make out normal features. Because of that she concentrated on the man within, not the horrendous face that had brought a scream to her lips when she had first looked upon him.

“Brianna? Are you all right?” His concerned voice roused her from her musings.

“Lost in thought.”

“Share the thought with me.”

She rested back against the pillows and did not think twice about sharing her thoughts, for she trusted Royce to understand. “I thought of your face compared to my husband’s.”

He felt no insult, and he did want to know more about her marriage.

‘Tell me,” he said beside her on the bed.

“He was a handsome man.”

Royce watched the way she drew the covers up around her. She looked for protection, not warmth.

“I cannot say that I am a handsome man,” he said with a grin, hoping to ease the deep frown that creased her face.

Her bright blue eyes grew wide. “Nay, you are handsome in ways my husband could never have been. And I was a foolish young woman thinking myself in love. He used his false charm to capture my naive heart but never truly loved me.”

Royce listened: he wanted to hear it all, every word, every emotion, every hurt she had suffered. And he wanted to make certain she would never suffer again.

“Arran was only interested in me because of my brother being laird of our clan. With marriage to me he would secure his importance and a keep to look after.”

She continued on in a rush, a need for her to tell him and a need for her to admit the truth.

“He had dreams of the clan gaining power and he gaining status. I learned quickly that I meant very little to him, and what he wanted most from me, I failed to give him. He found constant fault with me and belittled me, telling me how worthless I was. Of course, in front of everyone else he was a loving husband.”

She took a much needed breath and realized how she had gone on without thinking. “You do not wish to hear this.”

“Aye, that I do,” he insisted, or he needed to hear it as much as she needed to talk of it. He reached beneath the blanket and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Sometimes I think you are a dream.”

“You are telling me that I am too good to be true?” He winked at her with his good eye distorting his features even more.

She smiled and slipped her hand from beneath the blankets to lay a gentle hand to his cheek. “I think you so very handsome.”

His heart thumped in his chest and his blood raced, flushing his face, a most uncommon reaction for a warrior.

“You are blind,” he said, laying his hand over hers.

“Nay, for the first time in many years my eyes are finally open and I see clearly. And it is clear to me that you are handsome.”

He attempted to protest.

“Nay,” she said firmly, “you cannot order me to feel differently about you.”

Feel.

She had said feel. Did she feel for him? Or was it simply pity?

“Besides,” she continued, “you think me beautiful and I think you handsome—that makes us a fine pair.”

Pair?

Did she think them a pair? A pair was a match, two of a kind. A pair could not be separated.

“Beautiful and handsome it is,” he agreed, pleased that she thought them a pair. ‘Tell me more of your husband.”

Her frown returned. “He was more selfish than I had thought. In his desire to gain status and wealth, he attempted to hurt those I loved—my brother and his wife.

He escaped before he could be punished for his crime.”

“His death?”

“My brother spared me the details, though my husband’s ring was returned to me as proof of his demise.

I chose not to take it from my brother, and I care not how my husband met his end.

It is over and I am glad. When he escaped, he took me prisoner, threatening to kill me so that my brother would not follow. ”

“Coward.” Royce almost spit the word out in disgust

“My brother’s opinion as well. Arran soon discarded me, for I was a nuisance and slowed him down. He shoved me off the horse, dumping me on the road. He cared naught for my fate, only his.”

“He shoved you off his horse?” Royce asked, not believing he had heard her correctly.

She nodded. “My brother’s best friend, Blair, found me and returned me safely to the keep and my brother’s care. He then ordered that Arran be found at any cost.”

“Your brother did not go after him himself?”

“His wife had barely given birth to their son, his place was by her side, and besides, there was not a clansman who did not wish to see my husband caught and punished.”

“So your brother lacked no volunteers.”

“Nay, there were many,” she said with pride. “Unfortunately Arran could not be found, so my brother placed guards around me. The guards were only removed after my brother was certain Arran was gone and no longer a threat.”

“Your brother takes good care of you.”

“My brother loves me.” She spoke with pride of her clan and with love for her brother.

“And you him.”

“Aye, though he teased me often when I was young, he never failed to be there for me when I needed him. And I have tried to do the same for him. I realize now that if I had not allowed my pride to interfere and had spoken to my brother of the troubles in my marriage, he would have helped me.”

“What of fear?”

She stared at him for several silent moments. “I do not remember when I began to fear Arran and did not even realize that I did until it was too late. I made myself a prisoner.”

“You escaped—that is all that matters.”

“I did escape,” she said with a sense of pride.

“May I ask you what you failed to give him that appeared to anger him?”

She turned her head away briefly before returning her glance to him. “I could not give him children. I am barren.”

“Barren because he told you that you were?”

“I conceived no child the four years of our marriage. I must be barren.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” He did not add his thoughts, for they might upset her. He wished very much to prove that she was not barren. He had no doubt his seed would flourish within her and he had no doubt that she would find pleasure in their coupling.

Intimacy with her had been on his mind much of late, and it was becoming more and more of a challenge to remain a gentleman.

“Have you any children?” she asked.

“Nay, I have no children.” He paused and decided to add, “And no wife.”

She smiled before she could stop herself.

His grin surfaced on purpose. “You are pleased that I have no wife?”

She attempted a reasonable explanation. “I would not want your wife upset over you tending me.”

“You are in need. I would expect my wife to understand.”

“You would not be unfaithful to your wife.” It was a statement of fact. Somehow she knew that a wife would mean much to him. Nay, love would mean much to him.

“I intend to marry for love and love my wife until the end of our days and beyond.”

His words touched her heart, for she had felt the same when she had married. Her smile faded with the thought of never finding such an enduring love.

He understood her concern and wished to ease it “You will know love.”

Strange that he had not told her she would love again, simply that she would love. “I had thought I had. I made a foolish mistake. How do I know I will not make that mistake again?”

He took her hand, his thumb softly stroking her warm palm. “The mistake would be not to try.”

She stared at him, a tear tempting the corner of her eye. “I do not want to feel that pain again.”

He locked his fingers with her slim ones. “You would give up love because of the fear of pain?” He shook his head as if he attempted to understand. “Yet I have watched you bear pain with courage.”

He gave her words to think on and a challenge to meet. “My body heals.”

“The heart also heals.”

“Does it?” Her fingers tightly gripped his. “I have wondered—once a heart is broken, can it ever heal?”

“The heart can heal only if you allow it to.”

Had she allowed her heart to heal or had she protected her heart by not facing the truth? She decided to speak of what was most worrisome to her. “I thought he loved me as much as I loved him.”

He heard the pain in her voice and encouraged her to release it. “You cannot blame yourself for loving him more. We do not always love wisely.”

She sighed, her fingers remaining tightly locked with his. “I wonder if I will ever love wisely.”

“It matters only that you love.”

She slowly shook her head. ‘To love is to hurt.”

‘To love is to know the fullness of life.”

“I knew no such fullness.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Then you knew not love.”

“I was in love,” she protested.

“A young lassies’ innocent love.”

“Innocent, aye, but no more,” she said with regret.

He wiped at the unshed tear that pooled in the corner of her eye. “You are more innocent than you know.”

“My innocence has been taken from me. It is long gone.”

“Nay, I do not agree. You are innocent.” Before she could protest, he asked, “Have you ever been kissed?”

“I was married.” She sounded as if his question was nonsense.

“I do not think you have ever been kissed.” He brought his lips close to hers. “Would you like to be kissed, Brianna?”

A warm heat began to spread over her, quivering her flesh. She stared at him, a face that held its own pain and lips that had not fully hea

led, and yet she wanted that kiss more than anything she had ever wanted in her life. And he was giving her a choice.

“Aye, Royce, I wished to be kissed.”