Page 9 of Love Me Forever (Highland Duo #2)

W hy do you care for me?

The question echoed through his mind as he prepared the rabbit stew, and he thought of many answers to the simple question, though one answer haunted him.

He cared for her because he cared, actually cared for her as a man would for a woman.

The thought troubled him. He had not allowed himself to care for any woman.

His life had been one of constant battles.

He had learned to fight at a young age, his clan expecting it of him.

He had known he would follow in his father’s footsteps one day, and he would be no less the great warrior than his father had been.

His father had often told him that he, his son, would surpass him in strength and courage.

He had worked hard, and women were of little importance to him except to satisfy a need. He had no time to give women, no time to care for them. He had a responsibility to clan and family, and he had taken it seriously.

Until this last battle.

The battle had forced him to seek solitude and reconsider his own beliefs. His thoughts had tormented him, and he wanted nothing more than to be alone with his own agonies.

Then he found Brianna.

He could not say what it was about her that made him want to care for her and protect her. He only knew that he needed to, he had to, he wanted to. She seemed as alone and lonely as he did, and he felt he found in her a kindred spirit.

She relied on his tenderness, his gentle touch, and she sought the comfort and safety of his arms nightly. She did not fear him, though his face could cause fear.

He touched his fingers to his lips. The swelling had subsided,

and the wound had begun to heal. It would not leave a scar. He was, however, not as lucky with the other wounds. He would be left with a reminder of a battle he wished to forget.

He placed the pot of stew over the flames to cook, and then sat in the chair near the hearth.

His thoughts were chaotic, he could not seem to focus, and he grew tired of the warring in his head.

It took only minutes for his eyes to grow heavy, and without thought he walked to the bed and stretched out beside Brianna, falling asleep instantly.

Brianna woke to a delicious smell and comfortable warmth. She snuggled against the warm bundle, and arms wrapped around her and squeezed her gently. She looked up to see Royce, his eyes opening slowly. When he saw her, he smiled and brought his lips to her forehead.

It was a loving kiss he placed there, and she sighed with the comfort it brought her.

His arms remained firm around her as though he did not wish to let her go, and that was all right with her.

She felt good in his arms, and she had no wish to leave them, though her stomach rumbled to let her know otherwise.

“You are hungry?” He kissed her forehead again.

“My stomach protests, I do not. I like where I am.”

“You like my arms?” He sounded as though he did not believe her.

“Aye, that I do,” she said and rested her head on his shoulder. “I feel safe in your arms.”

My arms will always keep you safe. His silent response startled him. He knew her but a week’s time and he thought of her as his? He was being foolish in his thinking. He was merely lonely and she filled a void.

Foolish.

Was he being more foolish than he realized?

“You are safe in my arms. I will allow no harm to come to you.”

“I believe you,” she said on a sigh and cuddled closer to him, wedging her body against his. “And I” —she paused briefly, thinking over her next words— “trust you.”

He made to answer, but she continued. “I know you dictate to me out of concern and tend to me because you care. Your touch is respectful and you do not dishonor me. I am grateful that you are such an honorable man.”

Honorable.

He had questioned honor of late, and here she told him of his honor.

He answered as he felt. “You can always trust me.”

Her stomach rumbled loudly.

“You need food.” He attempted to move her away from him so that he could get their meal.

She would not allow him to. “Nay, I feel warm and comfortable. I do not wish to move just now.”

“Your stomach disagrees,” he said, though his arms remained firm around her.

“I will eat soon enough. For now, I wish to enjoy where I am.”

He did not argue with her, for he enjoyed where she was, and the thought that she wished to be there filled him with a sense of peace. He liked sharing the bed with her, he liked that she relied on him, he liked that there were only the two of them. He liked her more than he wanted to admit.

When both their stomachs began protesting, it was decided that they should eat. Brianna felt well enough to feed herself, but after her ordeal Royce would not hear of it. And she had agreed to follow his edicts—for now.

They talked and laughed and shared a pleasant meal together, but then all their meals had been enjoyable. They had formed a bond of friendship that grew stronger day by day, much stronger than either of them wished to acknowledge.

After Royce cleaned up from their meal, he returned to her bedside, leaned down, and with a grin asked, “Would my lady care for a bath?”

Her eyes rounded in wonder. “You tease me.”

“Nay, there is a half-size wooden barrel outside the door that I could bring in, and it would serve as a perfect bath for you. I can heat the water to a pleasant temperature, and without effort I can carry you to the tub. Besides, I think the wet heat would help ease your pains.”

Brianna desperately wanted a bath, but he had done so much for her and he was recovering from his own wounds. She raised her hand to his face, gently running her finger over his swollen lip. “You must be tired from all you have done for me.”

Her touch was like none he had ever felt, feather soft, and it tingled his lips, masking the pain of his wound. If she could ease his physical pain so easily with a simple touch, what, then, if her touch turned intimate? Would her hands hold the magic to ease his anguished soul?

Not thoughts he should be having at the moment, and he made haste to chase them away, though they lingered in his consciousness. “Nay, I need no rest and I heal?—”

She pressed a gentle finger to his lips. “Slowly. You need a poultice for a wound or two, and rest would serve you well.”

It did his heart good to think that she actually cared for him. “When you are well enough, you can prepare a poultice for me, and after your bath we will sleep and I will rest.”

“Is that an order? My bath, that is.” She smiled, feeling a comfort she had never thought to feel with a man.

“Need it be?”

It pleased her that he made it seem she had a choice.

“Nay, it need not be, a bath sounds much too inviting to deny.”

Her hand slipped down over his chest to the blanket. It was a lingering descent, and one he felt through his shirt.

He wished—he stood abruptly, forcing his thoughts away from where they insisted on drifting. He was about to give her a bath. He damn well did not need to be dwelling on intimacy.

“Rest, I will prepare everything.”

She snuggled beneath the covers, her body feeling a sudden chill. It was from no draft or cold drift of wind. It was from the anticipation of Royce holding her naked in his arms and helping her to bathe.

The cottage door closed quietly behind him, and in mere minutes he would return with the tub. She so wanted a bath, just the thought of the heated water soaking her skin made her sigh with pleasure. And why should she concern herself with thoughts of how he viewed her body? He was not her husband.

She cringed at the thought. Here she was alone in a cottage with a man who was more a stranger than not and who looked after her and touched her with the intimacy of a husband.

“Nay, not intimacy,” she whispered. He touched her with respect, not once laying an intimate hand on her.

Why, then, had she thought of intimacy when his hand touched her of late?

The door opened, Royce entered, and immediately went about preparing the tub for a bath.

“It will take a while to heat enough water for the tub,” he said, moving the table to the side and placing the tub in front of the hearth.

Brianna was surprised at the size of the half-barrel. It would hold her comfortably, and it would hold Royce if he bent his knees. The thought startled her, for she was not certain if she thought of them taking separate baths or bathing together.

Her remark surprised her even more. “Do you not wish a bath?”

“When you are done.”

“The water will be cold.” Whatever was she saying? It sounded like an invitation to her. Did it to him?

His brief pause warned that he might have thought the same. “I have taken cold baths before.”

“When necessary I assume.” She continued sounding as though she wished him to join her. Whatever was the matter with her?

He turned after setting a large pot he had filled with snow to heat. “Aye, when necessary.”

She bit her tongue so she would say no more. The accident must have given her a good knock on the head and a degree of courage, for she would have never suggested such an idea to her husband, let alone a man she knew but a week’s time.

She decided it was best to talk of a safer subject. That subject, she decided, was him. “Is this your home?”

He was waiting for specific questions to start. With her returning strength came courage, not to mention curiosity.

He would tell her only so much. “Not my permanent home.”

“Where is your permanent home?”

“A bit north.”

He evaded direct answers, but bits and pieces of a person once put together could tell much.

“The battle you recently fought was near your home?”

“Nay,” he answered and then poured the heated water into the tub, filling the large pot once again and setting it to heat.

He gave her no chance to continue her questioning.

“One more pot after this and there will be enough water for me to put you in the tub. I will continue to add hot water so that your bathwater does not chill.”

“You are most considerate.”