Page 21 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

21

“ B y God, wife,” Duncan said, running his fingers through Alison’s hair. “I didnae think ye had it in ye.”

Alison had nestled her head into the welcoming space between his neck and shoulder and traced lazy circles through the soft tufts of hair that covered his chest. The sensation sent shivers across his skin.

He had meant what he said. Never in his wildest imagination did he think Alison was capable of doing what she had done. When she had first taken him in her mouth, the mere sight of it had almost been enough to make him lose control.

They had not ventured any further after that. Once he had achieved his release, he reached down, took hold of her shoulders, and guided her onto the bed next to him. They had lain together silently for several minutes as they tried to catch their breath.

“Mmm,” Alison murmured in response, her face still pressed against his skin.

He frowned and reached over, using his fingertips to lift her chin. Soft brown eyes met his own, filled with a pensive expression that he could not decipher.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. She started to shake her head, but he would have none of it. “Nay, there’s somethin’ botherin’ ye. Ye wouldnae be this quiet otherwise.”

Her eyes roved intently over his face in search of something. He met her gaze, refusing to back down until she told him what was bothering her.

“Can I trust ye?”

The words sounded sad as she said them, and it caught him off guard.

His immediate reaction was to assure her that yes, of course, she could trust him. But, as he studied her face, he knew that there was more to her question.

“Why are ye askin’ me this?” he pressed. “What are ye worried about?”

Alison sighed. Removing her hand from his chest, she placed it on the mattress and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Turning her body and crossing her legs, she cocked her head at him.

“What do ye mean why am I askin’?” she argued. “Is that nae obvious?”

Duncan shook his head. “It isnae obvious. Otherwise, I wouldnae be askin’.”

Alison let out a frustrated sigh. “Are ye leavin’ again?”

He groaned and moved into a sitting position. “I already told ye, I’m nae leavin’. I’m here to stay.”

Duncan tried to be patient while answering her, but patience had never been his virtue. He was used to being listened to and was unaccustomed to having to repeat something more than once. Yet, here he was, having to repeat himself to her for what felt like the hundredth time.

“The war is over,” he spoke slowly, annunciating every syllable. “Me men are comin’ home. The signed peace treaty will arrive any day now—I ken it will.”

Alison shook her head, a tendril of brown hair falling over her face. “How do ye ken? What if MacKimmon doesnae sign it? What if he’s still furious about what ye did to his sister? What if?—”

“I didnae murder Lucy!” The words shot out of him in a quick, exasperated rush.

Alison just blinked at him. “But he doesnae ken that! So why would he sign the peace treaty? Why would he risk it all when he thinks that ye’re the one who killed his kin? Is that nae somethin’ ye would continue to wage war for?”

Duncan shook his head, but Alison pressed on.

“What if the men who took me had hurt me? Or worse, killed me. What if they’d taken Rosie? Are ye tellin’ me that ye wouldnae raze the whole country to the ground to fight for yer own daughter?”

“Lucy wasnae his daughter,” Duncan retorted while silently praying for his wife to see reason. “Lucy was his sister. And I didnae kill her. Ye have to ken that.”

He stared at her unblinkingly, his expression a mix of anger, frustration, and hope.

Alison studied him closely until, eventually, she nodded.

“I dinnae ken the whole story,” she explained, a little calmer than she had been just a moment ago. “But Malina told me ye didnae kill Lucy, and she wouldnae lie to me, nae about that.”

“So, ye trust Malina, but ye dinnae trust me?”

“Ye still havenae answered whether I can trust ye!”

Their angry words landed upon them both like sharp pebbles. Duncan raked his hands through his hair as he carefully considered his response.

“Of course, ye can trust me.” He tried to keep his voice soft, but it came out gruff all the same. “I’m yer husband. I already told ye I’m nae goin’ anywhere, and I meant it. Now, I need ye to trust that.”

They held each other’s stares, neither of them speaking or willing to concede to the other.

I willnae be the one to bend first.

He was not sure how much time had passed as they regarded one another, but it was more likely minutes before something in Alison’s expression began to shift.

Her eyes, which had been staring at him so intently for so long, began to soften. She blinked rapidly, as though clearing a vision from her mind, and began to nod.

“All right then,” she said softly. “I’ll trust ye.”

Duncan collapsed onto the mattress, patting it so she would curl up next to him once more. With a sigh, Alison lay down beside him, but she did not snuggle up against him like she had before. Instead, she laid her head on his upper arm and turned her face toward his.

“Is this what ye expected,” she asked, “when ye finally returned home?”

Duncan snorted. “Did I expect a wife who would defy me at every turn? Nay, I didnae expect that.”

“Well, ye make it too easy to defy ye.” Alison chuckled.

She still looked hesitant and unsure of their future. As Duncan mulled it over, he concluded that he could not blame her for her reticence.

Did I nae make the decision earlier that I had to do whatever it took to gain her trust? Mayhap ‘tis time that I accept that it will take a wee bit of work.

He gave her a soft smile, but the sensation felt foreign to his face.

It was his turn to ask, “Is this what ye expected when ye agreed to marry me?”

She took the time to ponder his question, chewing on her lip as she did so. Duncan felt the urge to reach out and bite that lip himself, but he knew the action would only delay his goal of getting her to trust him.

“Nay,” she answered finally, giving a small shake of her head. “I dinnae think I expected anythin’, really. When I was younger, I always thought that I would marry for love. And there was a part of me that still hoped for that when we wed. But it was me faither who had made all the plans.”

“What plans were those?”

“The same as any faither’s plans—to marry off his daughters and secure the family line. Make his line more powerful by securin’ strong alliances.” She shrugged.

Duncan wanted to probe her. He could tell that she had plenty more to offer on the subject, but there was another, more urgent question niggling at his mind.

“Do ye regret it? Marryin’ me?”

She paused again, and Duncan had to remind himself to breathe while he waited for her answer.

“I dinnae think I do,” she answered honestly. “Because, even if it looks a little different, I did find love through our marriage, in the end.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Ye mean to say that ye’re in love with me?”

Alison snorted a laugh. “I didnae say that,” she said, shaking her head. “But I did find love. To begin with, I love Rosie. And I love me friends and me life. I love the village and the people. I love me castle. So, even if it isnae what I had dreamed of as a lass, I think it still counts for somethin’.”

They were silent for a moment, but the silence felt comfortable.

Duncan mulled over her words.

He was not a delusional man. No part of him had expected her to say that she loved him. But hearing that she did not count him amongst her blessings, even in some vague way, stung in a way that he did not expect.

“Did ye love her?” Alison asked, pulling him out of his reverie. “Lucy?”

He answered honestly, “Nay, it wasnae like that between us. I liked her well enough. She was kind, smart, and funny. But there was never anythin’ between us that felt like love. Nae in any romantic sense.”

“Did ye at least consider her a friend?”

“Aye, we were friends, by the end.”

“What do ye think she would say if she could see the way it turned out for us?”

Duncan glanced down at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones. “I think she’d be grateful as hell for ye,” he said, the truth falling easily from his lips. “I think she’d see the way ye’ve raised Rosie, allowin’ her to be wild and become her own person, and would love ye for it. And I think she’d slap me about the head if she had kenned that I left the two of ye alone.”

Alison chuckled. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“I want ye to ken,” Duncan continued with a sigh, “that I meant it when I said I wasnae leavin’ again.”

Alison started to shake her head, opening her mouth to interject, but he held up his hand to stop her.

“Let me say this,” he pressed. “I’m nae sorry that I left five years ago. Our borders were bein’ attacked, and me men needed me. But I am sorry that I didnae come back. I’m sorry that I abandoned ye and Rosie. I dinnae ken what it’ll take, and I am nae a patient man, but I’m willin’ to try to be patient for this.”

Her eyes were shining as she gazed upon his face. “Patient for what?”

“To find out where I fit into yer life, and into Rosie’s life. I can be patient for that.”

Alison swallowed hard, her throat constricting with the force of her emotions. “And what happens then? What happens when ye find yer place with us?”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Then, I claim ye. I claim ye like a real husband should and show ye exactly who ye belong to.”

Alison threw her head back, laughing at the things that had just come out of her husband’s mouth.

“Aye,” she said, chuckling. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to pray that MacKimmon accepts the peace treaty so that ye’re around long enough to well and truly claim me.”

Some of the humor faded from her husband’s face. Placing a hand on his chest, Alison started to rub slow and languid circles on his skin.

If someone had told her before she had left the castle that morning that the day would end the way it had, she would have been certain that they had gone mad. Everything between her and Duncan had happened so incredibly fast, but she still had not had a chance to wrap her mind around it.

But she did not regret it. Of that much, she was certain.

“There are more reasons that I pray MacKimmon accepts the peace offer,” Duncan admitted, his tone suddenly serious.

Alison’s eyes raked over him, not missing the tension that had settled around his eyes. She also did not miss the way his plump lips tightened when he spoke.

“Was it that terrible?” she prompted. “The war?”

“One of the foulest I’ve seen,” he sighed. “‘Twas brutal. The first year was the worst. The way they ransacked the villages like savages… We were constantly on their trail, nae able to catch up with them or launch any kind of attack. Death loomed over us all until it became all we would ken for quite some time.”

Ghosts danced behind his eyes, and Alison wished that she could peer into his mind. She could not imagine the horrors that he had seen, and she did not know if she could take it if she knew, but she wished that there was a way she could better understand.

“How did ye stay sane?”

Duncan chuckled darkly. “Sometimes, I didnae think I was sane. After the first year, when we finally won our first battle, I fought like a man possessed.”

Alison snuggled a little further into his shoulder, staring up at him as he continued his story.

And continue it he did.

Duncan told her everything. Or, at least, what she assumed was everything. He told her about the first time he killed a man in the most recent war, and how it felt different from all the others that had come before.

“This war just felt so senseless,” he had explained. “Because I ken it had been started over a lie.”

He told her about their wins and their losses. He showed her some of his scars and in turn asked her about some of her own.

It seemed like they had talked for hours while they lay in bed in a tangle of limbs. Eventually, sleep began pressing in on them both.

“I dinnae think I can keep me eyes open much longer,” Alison said, her statement punctuated by a loud yawn.

Duncan nodded, rolling her away.

“Where do ye think ye’re goin’?” Alison protested, suddenly on high alert as he crossed the room.

“Dinnae worry,” Duncan reassured her, “I’m just gettin’ somethin’.”

She watched as he crouched down and pulled something from one of the belts that he had discarded earlier in the night. Metal flashed in the flickering firelight, and as he came closer, Alison recognized what he was carrying—a dagger.

Fear shot through her. Although she had believed both Duncan and Malina when they had said that he had not killed Lucy, she could not stop the worry that was now bubbling up inside her.

He did kill her. He stabbed her, and now he’ll stab me too.

Duncan came closer, but he did not stab Alison. Instead, he lifted the pillow on his side of the bed and placed the dagger under it. He offered no explanation as he climbed back into the bed and settled next to her.

“Is that necessary?” Alison asked, her brow creasing in concern.

“Aye,” Duncan grunted, his tone grave. “I told ye I didnae kill me first wife, but someone did, and that person is still out there. I want to be prepared if they show up again. I want to be ready to protect ye.”

A shiver ran down Alison’s spine at his words, but she ignored it as the two of them settled in. Despite her fear, it did not take long for her eyelids to begin to close.

It had been a long day, after all, and that long day had bled into a longer night.

The pair drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Both of them were blissfully unaware of how drastically everything was about to change.