Return of the Rogue (21 page)

Calum took a couple of breaths and raised his head. “I am sorry if I was rude to you.”

Cavan snorted a laugh and shook his head. “
If
you were rude?”

Calum blustered and his cheeks turned an even brighter red. “Forgive me for being rude.”

“Is that an acceptable apology, Honora?” Cavan asked gently.

“I believe it will do,” she answered with a smile to Calum.

“Good, then we’ll be on our way.”

Cavan turned, and Honora followed, as did the pup, but then Cavan stopped abruptly and turned back.

“Fair warning, Calum. If you ever disrespect my wife again, you will be banished from this clan.”

“K
eep your distance from Calum,” Cavan said as they walked through the village and were surprised by the many who called out cheerful greetings to them.

“I always have, or at least I’ve tried.” Honora smiled. “And though I can’t say that he still doesn’t put a bit of fear into me, I can claim quite proudly that I do not fear him as much as I once did, thanks to you. Besides, your last warning probably did the trick. Calum would never want to be banished from the clan.”

He loved the way her violet eyes shone brightly when she was happy, and they had been shining constantly lately, which did his heart good. He leaned down and stole a kiss. “I’m glad I could give you some peace of mind, but I believe Calum is more devious than I first thought.”

“I’ll agree to that, but it’s a beautiful day and I don’t wish to spend it discussing my stepfather.”

Champion agreed with a bark.

“I think you could use more practice with a bow,”
Cavan said, and with an arm around her waist, directed her steps toward the bow maker’s place.

“You only recently praised my skill with a bow and claimed I possessed a natural skill,” she said, confused.

“I did, didn’t I.” Cavan nodded and grinned.

“What are you up to?” she asked.

Cavan laughed when she attempted to stop, digging her boots into the ground, but he just hoisted her up around the waist then set her feet down on the ground and proceeded with their walk each time she tried. “You know me too well, wife.”

Honora gave a quick glance around and lowered her voice. “Does it have to do with the culprit we search for?”

Cavan whispered back. “No.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“You’ll discover it for yourself soon enough.”

Sure enough it didn’t take her long to realize what he was up to, and he didn’t mind since he was sure she’d approve.

He braced himself flat against her back as she picked up her bow and arrow. He loved being melded to her, feeling the whole length of her braced against him. He felt himself grow hard when she purposely rubbed her bottom against him, knowing that just as the bow responded in her hand, she would respond in his. He ran his hand slowly up the curve of her waist, recalling the small half-moon scar he so often
kissed before moving farther down or up to taste her delicate flesh. This time his hand continued up along the side of her breast and he was tempted to squeeze a handful of her round tender flesh. Instead he slipped slowly along underneath her arm as she raised the bow. His other arm worked the same sensual rhythm along her right side until together their hands fit the arrow to the bow.

He breathed softly beside her ear. “Keep it taut, very taut.”

“Now I know what you’re up to,” she whispered with a gentle gasp.

“Then know what I start here, I will finish in our bedchamber.”

“You will stay taut?” she teased softly, and grinned as he nuzzled her neck with playful nips and laughter.

“Watch how you challenge, wife.”

“Ah, but I am proficient with
my
bow and arrow,” she quipped, and with a quick glance at the target—a large bale of hay with a circle painted on a white cloth attached to it—she let her arrow fly.

Cavan cringed as it hit dead center. “An adept opponent, but still I’m confident with my prowess.”

“Then I should continue to practice.”

“I agree,” he said, and resumed his stance behind her as she took up another arrow.

By the time they finished, they were both running back to the keep, Champion having difficulty keeping up with them. They ignored Addie’s call once they were in the great hall, since each was trying
to beat the other to the stairs. Champion, however, caught scent of the food and headed straight toward Addie.

No sooner had the door slammed shut than they tugged and pulled off each other’s clothes and fell on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs wrapping around each other and lips meeting and parting only for air.

Cavan couldn’t get close enough to her, taste enough of her, and even though she protested when he began to take his time kissing every inch of her body, she soon capitulated and writhed in the pure pleasure.

Her skin was so soft and tasty, sweet, fruitful, with a tinge of tartness here and there. He didn’t want to stop tasting her delicious flavor, and when he settled between her legs, she was soon so drunk with pleasure that she cried out in sheer delight.

He slid over her, and was surprised and enthralled when she pushed him on his back and settled over him.

“I need practice riding as well,” she claimed, and mounted him skillfully.

He grabbed Honora around the waist when she seemed to tire but refused to relinquish her ride and assisted her in keeping a steady motion. But when she drew near to another climax, he switched positions, keeping himself buried firmly inside her, and she gasped with a grin and laughed.

“How talented.”

“Wait, you’ve seen nothing yet.”

They laughed and giggled and hugged each other until Cavan could stand it no longer and she cried out her need. They followed one another, bursting with pleasure and clinging in the aftermath, letting the last ripples of lovemaking wash over them.

Cavan fell off her onto his back, his breath still heavy and his thoughts of love. He loved this woman beside him. She was everything and more that he had wanted in a wife, and how lucky for him that he’d been wed to her without knowing it. Otherwise he would have never chosen her for a wife and had the chance to learn just how truly remarkable she was.

He wanted to blurt out
I love you
.

But it didn’t seem the right time, since it would appear as if he only remarked on it because they had just finished making love. It had to be a special time, a time she would never expect him to declare his love. A time that she would know without a doubt that he meant every word he spoke, that it was from deep within his heart, down to the very core of his soul.

“That was exquisite,” she sighed, and rolled on her side to rest her head on his chest.

Cavan wrapped his arm around her and caressed her damp skin. “I agree.”

“Then I please you?”

He lifted her chin with one finger to glare at her incredulously. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

Her violet eyes so brilliant with passion just
moments before now ached in need of an answer. His heart still thudding from his explosive climax, he suffered a quick stab and hastily sought to ease both their pain.

“You please me more than I ever thought I possibly could be pleased. It is as if I have never known the pleasures of true passion, true lovemaking, until now, with you.” He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Feel my heart and how it beats madly because of you and for you. You are part of me, Honora, and I would have it no other way.”

She took his hand and pressed it to her chest. “Our hearts beat the same.”

He could feel her heart pounding madly beneath her damp flesh, and it was as if the wild tempo reached up and out to tingle his fingers. “As I have said before, we are one, you and I, and always will be.”

She rested her head on his chest with a satisfied sigh. “I will keep your words close to my heart and tucked in the corner of my mind so that I may recall them whenever I feel the need.”

“I will not let you forget how much you mean to me.”

“That is good for I like to hear it from time to time,” she said with a yawn.

“You will,” he said, knowing what she wanted was to hear that he loved her, though she would not ask that of him.

He felt her body ease into a peaceful slumber, and laid there hugging her against him, not wanting
to let her go. As their bodies chilled, he drew the blanket up over them and wrapped his legs around hers to warm her. Then he settled down, resting his cheek upon the top of her head and ever so softly whispered, “I love you.”

C
avan and Honora were startled out of sleep by a drawn-out, piercing scream of agony. They dressed quickly and ran out of their bedchamber, catching a glimpse of dusk settling over the land and realizing they had slept for a few hours.

Cavan preceded his wife down the flight of stone stairs, his heart pounding, for he felt that something dreadful had happened. He stopped abruptly, Honora near colliding with him when he spotted his father’s body stretched out on the table where he and his family gathered for meals, to laugh, debate, sing, and sometimes cry together. His mother had thrown herself across her husband’s body and was howling in agony.

He rushed to his father’s side, Artair and Lachlan already there, shaking their heads as he approached.

Addie’s eyes bulged from her color-drained face when she saw her son, and she turned frantic until her sight settled on Honora. She reached a bloodstained hand out to her. “Help him, please help my husband.”

Honora hurried to her side and froze, her face turning pure white as she looked to her husband.

Cavan could see that his father had died, and it had clearly not been an accident. A dagger handle protruded form his chest; he’d been stabbed in the heart.

“Please,” Addie pleaded, grabbing hold of Honora’s arm. “Help him.”

Honora slipped her arm around Addie and attempted to walk her away from the body. Addie would have no part of it. She yanked away from her and returned to her husband, throwing herself over him again, wailing uncontrollably.

Cavan looked to Artair and Lachlan, and Artair motioned them away from their mother while Honora went to the woman’s side and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.

“Father staggered from behind the stable and died in my arms before he could tell me anything,” Artair said, tears filling his eyes but not spilling down his face.

“It’s my fault,” Cavan claimed.

“What nonsense do you speak?” Lachlan demanded.

Cavan confessed the secret he had harbored since his return, and told them that he’d been worried the culprit might attempt something else.

Both brothers were startled and upset, but defended him.

“You chose to protect us all. I for one cannot fault you for that,” Artair said.

“Artair is right,” Lachlan agreed. “If such information circulated amongst the clan, the culprit could have done more damage.”

“He’s done the worst damage of all,” Cavan said, glancing to his father’s body and his heartbroken mother. “He has taken our father from us.”

“He will pay,” Lachlan swore with a shake of his fist.

“First, we need to attend to mother and prepare Father for the burial he deserves, and then…” Artair placed a firm hand on Cavan’s shoulder. “You must assume leadership. You are the new laird of Clan Sinclare.”

Cavan hadn’t even thought of what his father’s death meant. He didn’t want nor was he ready for such a powerful position. He had always gone to his father with his problems and often wondered who his father had gone to with his.

His eyes fell on his mother and he knew, as he always had, that she had been the one his father sought out when needing consoling. Cavan looked to his wife. She stood beside his mother, her hand on Addie’s shoulder, her tears flowing as steadily as his mother’s, yet strong and ready to help.

His father had been right about Honora making him a good wife, and he ached to be able to speak to him one last time. Their last time together had been a good one, laughter and talk and…

Never again would he hear his father’s voice, his hardy laughter, or be able to go to him for advice. He was gone. His father was truly gone.

Cavan walked over to his mother and intended to ease her off her husband’s body, but when he stopped beside her, he wanted to do as she had done, throw himself across his father’s body and weep.

Artair and Lachlan joined them, and both men placed a hand on their father’s body. Cavan rested his hand on his shoulder and the other on his mother, and the family mourned together.

The whole clan wept. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Tavish Sinclare, their laird, was dead, and nothing could console the people for he had been a good, fair-minded man and loved by all.

Cavan was proud and grateful to his wife for tending his mother. She remained by Addie’s side throughout the whole ordeal, helping her dress, seeing to the preparation of the meals, keeping vigil with her beside her husband’s body throughout the night while Tavish lay in the great hall for all to pay their last respects.

Honora had even helped his mother prepare his father for burial, and he had watched as she cried along with Addie and mourned Tavish’s loss as if he were her own father.

Cavan and his brothers spoke quietly in their father’s solar—now Cavan’s. He wondered if he could ever truly feel it his. The room belonged to his father and bore his achievements with dignity. His battle shield hung on the wall, riddled with dents and a hole that almost proved to be his death. Various weapons he had confiscated from enemies were displayed, and gifts from leaders far and near joined
them. His father was a well-respected clan leader, and he wondered if he could ever really fill the void Tavish had left behind.

“Have you found out anything?” Cavan asked Lachlan.

“No one saw anything, and believe me when I tell you everyone is upset that they didn’t. The clan wants the murderer found and punished.”

“That information tells us something,” Cavan said.

“I agree,” Artair said. “It means the person who murdered father is known to us all.”

Lachlan shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but all the facts point to that conclusion. Father would have never allowed anyone he didn’t know to get too near to him. He had to have known his assailant and the attack had to be quick—”

“And unexpected,” Artair finished.

“The dagger?” Cavan asked.

“It’s not familiar to anyone,” Lachlan said.

“The murderer must be found,” Cavan said firmly. “No one will feel safe until then, and I will not rest until I see him quartered and hung for the coward he is.”

A rap at the door turned them silent.

“Enter,” Cavan ordered.

Honora peeked her head in. “Your mother asks for all of you.”

They all froze for a moment, for this was it—the day they bid their father farewell. It would be an all day affair, concluding with a feast of great proportion in honor of their beloved laird.

The great hall was empty, the feast honoring a great leader finished. The immediate family sat at their usual table. It was very late but none of them wished to leave their mother alone, to face her first night without her husband in over thirty years.

Cavan wasn’t surprised at how well his mother had handled the funeral. After all, she was the wife of a brave laird, and would not disrespect his memory by showing weakness. She had stood tall and regal as Tavish was laid to rest, and accepted condolences with grace and strength.

However, he couldn’t help but worry what life would be for her without her beloved husband, though he would not say so aloud. “We will do well,” he said instead, sharing in the vast loss that was apparent on everyone’s sorrowful faces.

“Of course we will,” Honora confirmed with a knowing nod. “Your father was certain of it.”

They looked at her strangely, but it was Lachlan who asked, “What makes you believe that?”

“Your father told me.”

They stared at her and she smiled.

“Your father and I shared many a walk together where he extolled his sons’”—Honora turned a gentle smile on Addie—“and his wife’s virtues.”

“What did he say?” Lachlan asked anxiously.

She smiled. “I can hear your father’s laughter now, so bold and strong, which was how I knew he would speak about you. He loved your passion for life and was pleased to see you live it so vigorously, but”—she shook her finger—“he knew
without a doubt that when the time came, you would do whatever duty demanded of you. He had no doubt of your strength and honor. You did him proud.”

Lachlan nodded slowly. “Thank you, that was good to hear.”

Honora turned to Artair. “Your father always turned serious when he spoke of you. He felt safe with you for he knew you dependable. He never worried or gave it a second thought when he asked you to settle an issue or see to a problem. He told me proudly that you once informed him there were no problems, only solutions. He had no doubt that you would bring order when there was chaos. He greatly admired your wisdom.”

Artair could only nod, his throat choked with emotion.

Honora beamed when her glance settled on her husband. “Your father always shook his head and sighed when he spoke of you.”

Cavan felt his heart catch. Had his father been disappointed in him?

“He felt that you were a leader from the day you were born, and he felt guilty that you never had a chance to be a child.”

“Oh my, did he ever feel that way,” Addie chimed in.

Honora nodded. “He’d go on and on about all the responsibility Cavan took on as a child.”

“Mostly with us,” Artair said.

“He was right,” Lachlan agreed. “Cavan was always there, helping us, teaching us, covering our
mistakes when he felt it appropriate and letting us suffer our punishment when necessary.”

“Your father wanted you to enjoy life while you had the chance,” Honora continued, “for he knew the burden of being a clan leader. And though he knew you more than capable of being a great laird—better than himself, he claimed—he wanted you to taste the joy of freedom until it came time to surrender to your duty. He knew the clan would be safe and protected when in your hands. He loved you very much.” She glanced around at all three brothers. “He loved you all very much.”

“What of Ronan?” Lachlan asked. “Did he speak of Ronan?”

Honora nodded. “He told me that he had no doubt Ronan would survive and return home. He believed Ronan was a strong warrior, and that once he claimed that powerful warrior within himself, he’d find his way home.”

There was silence for a moment, then Artair asked, “What of Mother?”

Addie smiled weakly, and Honora placed a hand over hers. “His words are for her alone.”

The three brothers stood. Cavan kissed his wife on the cheek, told her he would see her in their bedchamber, and to take as long as she needed.

Each son hugged, kissed, and told their mother they loved her, then left the two women alone in the great hall.

Honora prepared them each a special herbal brew, and added a potion to Addie’s, to help her rest. They sat side by side in silence until Addie spoke.

“I loved my husband very much.”

“He loved you very much,” Honora said.

“I know. Tell me what I don’t know.”

Honora grinned. “He told me you could infuriate him, but he so enjoyed making up afterward that he decided it was one of your qualities and not a hindrance.”

Addie laughed. “I knew it. He would never admit it, but I knew it.”

“That was another thing. He admitted that you knew him too well, that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could keep from you. But he also admitted that it was another quality that served him well for he did not have to explain everything to you, and you would comfort him without him saying a word.”

“I could see in his eyes, know in his walk, tell by his voice, and know what he needed.”

Honora squeezed her hand. “Most of all he knew without a doubt that he could trust you and count on you to always be there for him. Right or wrong, you would defend him, though voice your opinion in private. And he never once in all the years doubted your love for him. It was solid and steadfast. He felt himself a lucky man to have found you.”

“Found me?” She laughed, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Why, I had my eyes on the man from when I was young. There wasn’t another woman who had a chance with him.”

Honora laughed hard. “He told me the same himself. He claimed that when he first saw you—I
believe he said he was twelve at the time—he knew you were the woman for him.”

“He was almost thirteen, and I had just turned ten. It was love at first sight.”

The two women talked for over an hour, then Addie began to yawn, and told Honora that she believed she just might be able to sleep that night. She asked if it was all right if she took Champion along for company, since the pup, who had grown considerably in the past few weeks, had not left her side since Tavish’s passing.

Honora agreed, knowing that Champion had just acquired a new master, which was fine with her. She saw Addie to her bedchamber and then went to join her husband.

He was in bed, sitting up, his back braced against several pillows. He stretched his hand out to her when she entered, and she went to him, sensing she knew what he was about to say to her.