Page 24 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B ack at their chamber, Morag found Sheena tidying the room, her movements careful and quiet. The maid looked up as she entered, her face immediately creasing with concern.

"Is there anything ye need, me lady?" Sheena asked, looking up with concern. "Ye look fair worn out."

"Could ye draw me a bath, if it's nae too much trouble?

I can still feel the sickness on me skin," Morag said, touching her hair self-consciously.

The ordeal had left her feeling tainted somehow, as if the poison and fear had seeped into her very pores.

"And perhaps... perhaps procure me something tae help me sleep? Me mind won't settle."

"Of course, me lady. I'll have the lads bring up the water right away, and I'll ask Cook fer some chamomile tea."

Within the hour, steam was rising from the wooden tub that Sheena had placed near the fire.

She had added lavender oil to the water, and the soothing scent filled the chamber.

Morag sank gratefully into the warm water, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

The heat felt wonderful against her still-aching muscles, washing away the lingering effects of the poison and days of fever.

She closed her eyes, finally allowing herself to truly relax and feel like herself for the first time since waking from her ordeal.

The fear that had gripped her since the attack—the terror of those moments when she'd been helpless, drugged, at the mercy of Fraser's men—slowly began to ebb away. She was safe. She was home. Colin had found her, had saved her and had stayed by her side through the worst of it.

Even if he willnae let me help him with his own demons.

The door opened without warning, and Colin strode in, his mind clearly still on whatever crisis he'd been managing.

He took three steps into the room before he realized what he was seeing.

He froze completely, his eyes widening as they took in Morag's naked form in the tub, her golden hair pinned up and her skin flushed pink from the heat. For a moment, neither of them moved.

"I... ye..." Colin stammered, his usual composure completely shattered.

Morag felt heat flood her cheeks, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips at seeing this formidable man so thoroughly flustered. "Aye, it's a bath. People dae take them occasionally."

"I didnae ken ye were..." He gestured vaguely, his gaze flickering between her face and the water as if he couldn't decide where to look.

"If ye turn around, perhaps I could get out?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady, despite her racing heart.

"Aye, of course," Colin said quickly, spinning around so fast he nearly knocked over a chair. "I should have knocked. I wasnae thinking."

Morag rose from the water slowly, hyperaware of Colin's presence just a few feet away. Water sluiced down her body as she reached for the linen towel Sheena had left, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was fighting the urge to turn around, if he was as affected by this moment as she was.

"What's got ye so distracted?" she teased gently, wrapping the soft cloth around herself. The towel barely covered her from chest to mid-thigh, and she felt deliciously wicked standing there in so little while her husband stood with his back rigidly turned.

"The new security measures," Colin replied, his voice slightly hoarse. "Making sure every entrance is properly guarded, questioning the remaining refugees more thoroughly..."

"Have ye found anything suspicious?" Morag asked as she dried off, noting how his shoulders remained tense even with his back turned.

"Naething definitive. But I'm nae taking any chances." He paused. "The men think I'm being overly cautious."

"And what dae ye think?" She slipped into her night chemise, the soft fabric settling around her still-warm skin. The fabric was thin enough that she knew it would cling slightly to her damp skin, outlining her figure in ways that would test any man's composure.

"I think I'd rather be overly cautious than bury me wife," he said grimly.

"Ye can turn around now," Morag said softly.

Colin turned slowly, his eyes immediately finding hers before inevitably traveling down to take in the way the thin fabric of her chemise hugged her curves.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and she could see the effort it took for him to drag his gaze back to her face.

"I'm sorry fer barging in like that," he said, though his voice carried a husky note that suggested he wasn't entirely sorry.

"It's yer room too," she reminded him, moving toward the bed with deliberate grace. "Besides, we are married."

She watched his eyes darken at her words, saw the way his jaw tightened as if he were fighting some internal battle. The tension between them was palpable now, thick with unspoken desires and the memory of how close they'd come to losing each other.

Instead of responding to the charged atmosphere, Colin turned abruptly to prepare his usual sleeping arrangement on the floor, his movements sharp with barely controlled restraint.

As he laid out his blankets, he began talking about guard rotations and supply checks, his voice carrying the forced casualness of a man trying desperately to distract himself.

But Morag could see the slight tremor in his hands, could hear the way his voice occasionally roughened when he forgot to keep it carefully modulated. His mind might be focused on clan business, but his body was very much aware of her presence, of what had just passed between them.

As they both settled down to sleep—Colin on his makeshift bed, Morag beneath the warm covers—she listened to his voice gradually grow slower and deeper.

In his distraction and exhaustion, she realized something significant: Colin had settled down for sleep without his usual ritual.

For the first time since their marriage, he'd forgotten to take his sleeping draught entirely.

In the depths of the night, Morag stirred to the sound of labored breathing. She pulled aside the curtain to find Colin thrashing in his sleep, his body rigid with tension, sweat beading across his forehead despite the cool Highland air.

"Colin," she whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. His skin was burning hot, and he flinched away from her touch even in sleep.

She moved closer, gently placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him still. "I'm here," she murmured softly. "Ye're safe. I'm here."

His eyes flew open with a strangled gasp, wild and unfocused for a moment before they found her face in the dim moonlight. His chest heaved as if he'd been running, and she could see the terror still lingering in his expression.

"I’m here, dinnae fash," Morag said gently, her hand moving to cup his cheek.

Colin stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to remember where he was. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw and broken. "Me sister."

Morag waited, not pushing, simply offering her presence as an anchor in whatever storm was raging inside him.

"When I was nine, and Kathleen was six," Colin began haltingly, "we were taken by Clan Kinnaird. Me faither's enemy." His hands clenched into fists against the bedding. "They kept us in a dungeon fer over a year. Tortured us."

Morag's heart clenched, but she remained silent, sensing it was something he'd never spoken aloud before.

"I tried tae protect her," Colin continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every night, I'd stay awake, make sure they focused on me instead of her. But then one night..." His breath hitched. "Me body gave out. I was so tired, so weak. I fell asleep."

Tears gathered in Morag's eyes as she watched the pain etched across his features.

"When I woke up, they were..." He couldn't finish the sentence, his voice breaking completely.

"I held her while she died. Held her tiny body until it went cold.

" He looked at Morag with eyes that held years of anguish.

"Every night, the nightmares bring me back tae that moment.

Watching her take her last breath because I failed her. "

"Oh, Colin," Morag breathed, her heart breaking for the tortured child he'd been.

Everything suddenly making sense. "I'm so sorry.

God above, that's not something any child should have tae endure.

" She reached out to cup his face with trembling hands.

"And it wasnae yer fault. Ye were just a wee lad trying tae protect his sister. Ye did everything ye could."

"I should have done more," Colin said brokenly. "Should have stayed awake, should have?—"

"Ye were only a child," Morag interrupted firmly, her thumbs stroking across his cheekbones. "A child, tortured and starved. The fact that ye survived at all is a miracle. The fact that ye tried so hard tae protect her... that shows the kind of man ye truly are."

Colin looked at her for a long moment. She could see how desperately he wanted to believe her words.

"So ye take the sleeping potion tae keep away the nightmares?" she asked gently, her voice full of understanding now.

Colin nodded. "It's a sleeping draught. Without it, I'd run on maybe two hours of sleep a night.

The nightmares... they never stop. I see her face, hear her calling fer me, feel her blood on me hands.

.." His voice turned bitter with self-recrimination.

"But if I hadnae taken it the other night, ye never would have been kidnapped. I failed ye just like I failed her."

"Nay," Morag said firmly, shifting so she could cradle his head against her chest, her fingers threading through his dark hair.

"Ye didnae fail anyone. Nae her, and nae me.

Ye were a child who tried tae protect his sister against grown men, monsters.

And the other night... Colin, ye saved me.

Ye found me and brought me home. That's nae failure. "