Return of the Rogue (22 page)

C
avan had waited with a minimum of patience for his wife. He had known when she’d spoken about him that there was more to what his father had said about him. How did he know? He could not say for sure; he only knew he could see in his wife’s face that she was holding something back.

When she entered their bedchamber, he was relieved to see her. He needed her, needed her beside him in bed to hold onto, to feel her heat, her heartbeat, and to lose himself in her and forget the sorrow that filled his soul. But first he had to know what else his father had confided in her.

She shed her garments as she approached the bed and he was content to know that she felt confident and safe to stand naked in front of him. They had truly become one.

He grasped hold of her hand and tugged her to land in his lap, tossing the blanket over them both. He hugged her close, nuzzled her neck, and tucked her comfortably in his lap.

“There was something you didn’t tell me about Father and me,” he whispered before kissing her gently, needing a quick taste of her. “Tell me.”

She did so without hesitation. “He knew you kept a secret.”

“How?” he asked unbelievingly.

“Your father knew you well. He knew something disturbed you other than your year of capture, and knowing you, he could only surmise that you did what you always had done—protected.”

“He wasn’t angry with me?”

“Oh my, no,” she assured him. “He was very proud of you. If anything, your actions proved to him what a worthy leader you would make. You would rather have taken the burden on yourself than worry the clan. To him you were a true leader.”

He felt a great sense of relief and remorse. He was relieved to hear how his father felt but wished that he had confided in him. Was it right or wrong to have kept what he knew to himself? With his father’s death, he worried that he had terribly misjudged his foe and brought upon his father’s demise.

“Your father was a wise man and understood much, and he believed the same of you.”

“Then I should easily be able to discover—” Abruptly, he sprung forward, taking his wife along with him. “My father discovered the identity of the culprit!”

Honora was startled, her violet eyes turning wide and brilliant.

“Don’t you see? He no doubt had fit the pieces of the puzzle together.”

“But why not confide in anyone?”

Cavan smiled sadly. “My father was the laird of the clan, and knew it was his duty to protect, just as he said of me. He believed himself capable of dealing with the culprit on his own.”

“Or,” Honora said excitedly, “he didn’t think the culprit was a threat.”

Cavan nodded. “You’re right. He might have been secure in the knowledge that he could defeat the man no matter what. But then, what happened?”

“Perhaps the culprit surprised him?”

“Or perhaps there was more than one person involved?” Cavan said.

“It is hard to believe that anyone in the Sinclare clan would mean your father harm.”

“I thought the same myself.”

“It is a mystery we must solve,” she insisted.

“I will not see you in harm’s way,” he demanded.

“You think to leave me out of this?”

He nodded. “For your safety.”

“Not likely.”

“You disobey me, wife?” He attempted a commanding demeanor, though he was proud of her courage. She had developed much strength in the few months since they had wed.

“We”—she said, poking him in the chest—“work together.”

“Do we, now?”

“I won’t have it any other way. We keep nothing from each other. We confide everything—”

“We trust each other,” he finished.

“That we do,” she said, planting a fat kiss on his lips.

“I want more of that,” he whispered, and nuzzled her neck. She giggled, and he kissed some more, and then he stilled and buried his face against her breast.

He felt her arms go around him and then her hands caress his back.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He needed to hear that, needed to know that she loved him. He needed her.

He eased her onto her back and kissed her gently. “I’m going to make love to you now, slow and easy.”

She nodded, her smile soft, and wrapped her arms around him.

They loved and talked on and off throughout the night, and near morning finally fell asleep wrapped snugly around each other.

Once again when Honora was sound asleep, Cavan whispered, “I love you.”

The rumors began shortly after the funeral. At first, Honora dismissed them as nonsense, mere speculation produced by fear. After all, who in their right mind would even think that Cavan could murder his father? But that was the gossip, spreading like bugs devouring the harvest. It was only mumbles at first, perhaps begun with a conjecture that marinated in people’s minds until many were convinced of its truth.

Regardless, it had gained momentum and angered Honora beyond reason. Artair and Lachlan felt the same, but no matter how hard all three of them tried to circumvent the gossip, it continued.

Honora held firm to her husband’s hand as they walked through the village. The glares and mumbles had irritated her, but she remained smiling, supportive of the man she loved.

“They will realize soon enough,” she said as they finally reached the moors and left the village behind them.

“I have only myself to blame.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I argued much too often with my father after my return.”

“You made amends.”

“Not in front of the clan, and that’s what they needed to see. That I show my father, the clan leader, the respect he deserved. I failed to do that and now I pay the price. My clan judges me.”

“When we find the person who killed your father, those who judged you will be sorry,” she said emphatically, protective of her husband, though looking at his imposing form, it seemed unnecessary. He wore the clan plaid with distinction and carried himself with confidence. Though people threw silent barbs, he had deflected them with dignity and humility.

“In time the clan will see that I only wish to serve them as my father did, fairly and wisely.”

Honora stopped, the winter wind strong, stinging her cheeks and causing a shiver. Or was it her own worries that caused that? “But they hurt you.”

“I think more that someone hurts them. The rumors started immediately after my father’s passing. It was as almost as if dissention was planted amongst the clan.”

“You’re right,” Honora said. “That would mean that—”

“The murderer remains amongst us,” Cavan finished. “He never left, which leads me to believe that he’s not finished. He has other plans.”

Honora visibly shuddered, and was glad for the comfort of her husband’s arms. He wrapped them slowly around her and eased her against him until she was snugly tucked in the crook of his arm, where no one could harm her and he could lovingly reassure her. He had the courageous strength of a born leader, and she was proud to be his wife, though worried over his safety.

“We must find him before he inflicts more damage,” Cavan said.

“How do we find him when he pretends to be one of us?”

“That’s just it, he pretends. He truly isn’t one of us. His allegiance isn’t to the clan.”

“Who is it to?” she asked.

Cavan took her hand so they could continue to walk. “That’s only one of the many questions that need answers, but we leave that for later. Time now for you and me.”

“There’s no time for you and me,” she blurted out.

He swung her around and grabbed her around the waist. “The last few weeks have been an ordeal for everyone. Routines were disturbed, sorrow filled every hour of the day. It is time things return to normal for the well-being of the clan, and that starts with you and me.”

“You are right,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly. It had been a difficult time for all, and the clan would naturally be looking to their new leader for direction. If he took firm hold and demonstrated his confidence, then the clan members would follow suit. A thought struck her. “If we show unity and strength, the clan will follow, and the culprit—”

“Will reveal himself without even realizing it,” Cavan finished with a smile.

Honora smiled along with him. “He will not be able to sway the clan as he does now, for they will once again be content and confident in their new laird.”

Cavan gave her a peck on the cheek. “Your intelligence excites me.”

“You would never tell it from that—” She scratched her head. “Kiss? Was that a kiss? Because if it was, then I must protest—”

Her mouth was suddenly plastered against his, with his tongue diving deep inside to tease and mate with her own. She slipped her arms around his neck and fed off him with the same frenzy he did her.

Squeals and giggles parted them slowly, and with frowns and annoyance at being disturbed, they turned to stare at a group of little girls standing at
the edge of the village, pointing at them from a few feet away.

“We have an audience,” Honora whispered.

“Good. They will take the news back to their parents and new gossip will soon replace the old, and I wouldn’t be surprised if bets were placed as to when an heir will be born.”

Honora had considered the possibility, knew it her duty, but duty aside, she would love to give her husband an heir, a babe made from their love, raised and cherished with love. A tense well of emotions suddenly rushed up to choke her and bring tears to her eyes.

She broke free of her husband to turn away not wanting him to see her expressive reaction. He however didn’t allow her the distance, he stepped up behind and she couldn’t help but melt against him as his arms wrapped around her waist and drew her close.

She dropped her head back against his chest, and when his hands rested over her stomach, she placed her own hands over his strong yet tender ones.

“You would tell me if you were with child?”

She laughed softly. “I would shout it from the battlements, I would be so proud and happy.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I am glad to hear that.”

“You doubted I would?” she asked, surprised.

“I haven’t exactly been the best husband.”

She turned around in his arms, her smile broad. “I’ll agree, but only partly. And in honesty I can understand your first reaction, for I felt the same myself.”

“You didn’t want me as a husband.”

“No, I didn’t. I was relieved when you rejected me the first time my stepfather approached your father with the idea. When you returned and were forced on me, I liked it even less. But—”

“You fell in love with me,” Cavan boasted.

Honora laughed. “Completely and forever.”

“Because I’m irresistible,” he teased.

She shook her head and her smile softened. “Because you are a good man. I always wanted to wed a good man. You are honest and fair and I can trust you—a good man.”

He stared at her, speechless, and she giggled.

“Of course, being handsome and a great lover help as well.”

He shook his head and grinned. “I got more than I bargained for when I accepted you as my wife.”

“You got a good woman.”

“No,” he said. “I got a
remarkable
wife, and proud I am to have her.”

C
avan kissed his wife. Actually, he didn’t want to stop kissing his wife. She was more than a remarkable woman. There were truly no words to describe how he felt about her, and he didn’t intend to try. It was easier and oh so much more enjoyable to show her.

She tasted sweet, but then she usually did, and he could have lingered in their kiss for hours if duty didn’t call. However, since his father’s death, there was much to be dealt with and his time was not what it once had been.

He rested cheek-to-cheek with his wife. “I must meet with my brothers.”

Honora sighed contentedly. “Then I will spend time with your mother.”

Cavan took her arm and reluctantly began their return walk to the keep. “I appreciate the time you spend with her. I fear her grieving will not end for some time.”

“She loved your father too much to simply forget him. Her heart will forever mourn him, but I’m sure having her sons helps greatly.”

“And eventually Artair and Lachlan will marry.” Cavan snickered. “Artair will choose a sensible wife, but Lachlan…” He shook his head and laughed. “I wonder over his choice.”

“He may surprise everybody and choose a most fitting wife.”

“Not likely.”

“He can be wise when he chooses to be,” Honora said in his defense.

“You mean you hope he is wise when the time comes.”

Honora gave him a playful jab. “You’re being unkind to your brother.”

“I’m being truthful. Lachlan enjoys women but pledges allegiance to no one. He does what he wants when he wants.”

“Perhaps you should search for a wife for him.”

Cavan was still laughing when they entered the keep a few moments later. After hanging their cloaks on nearby pegs they joined Artair and Lachlan at the table.

“Do you know what my wife suggests?” Cavan said to Lachlan.

“That I’m a wonderful man and she wished she married me.”

That brought a round of laughter from everyone.

Cavan corrected him. “She thinks I should find you a wife.”

Lachlan grabbed his chest. “You wound me, sister. I need no help in finding a wife.”

“I think that is a good idea,” Addie said, stepping out of the shadows with a platter of bread and cheese,
Champion ever dutifully by her side, sniffing the delicious scent that drifted off the platter.

Lachlan slapped his chest again. “Twice wounded.”

“Dramatics will get you nowhere,” his mother warned, placing the platter in the center of the table.

Lachlan reached for a hunk of dark yellow cheese. “Then I’ll be blunt. I will choose my own wife in my own good time.”

“You don’t choose love, it chooses you,” Addie corrected him. “And when it does, it will snag you firm and hard and you will be able to do nothing about it.”

“I don’t intend to let love control me,” Lachlan said.

“I agree,” Artair chimed in. “I intend to look for a suitable wife who will fit my needs and serve me well, as I will her.”

Cavan laughed, for at one time he had felt the same. A wife was a means to an end. A woman who would serve his needs, provide him with heirs. and, of course, he would be good to her. Now, however, he didn’t feel that way at all. Love mattered in a marriage. It bound two people together and helped them survive and thrive.

“I can’t wait to watch you two eat your words,” Cavan said, continuing to laugh.

Addie stood behind Artair and Lachlan, placed a hand on each of their shoulders and smiled. “I’m with Cavan. I look forward to the day.”

Cavan kept his smile strong while his heart felt a surge of relief. It was the first time since his father’s death near a month ago that his mother had smiled. He hoped it was the beginning of her lovely smile returning permanently.

She had always been a beautiful, vibrant woman, but her vibrancy had seemingly passed away with the death of her husband and, selfishly, he wanted his mother back. The mother who greeted every day with a smile, who always had a good word to speak, who managed to bring reason to chaos, and who had been there for her sons through many a difficult time.

He saw a hint of that woman when she smiled now, and hoped that she was ready to emerge once again into life.

“Honora,” Addie said, her smile still intact. “I thought perhaps you might like to help me gather some pine to scent the rooms.”

“I would love to,” Honora said.

“I thought we’d go to the small cropping of woods on the moors.”

“Wait just a minute,” Lachlan chirped.

“That’s not a good place to go,” Artair added.

“The spot of woods near the stable is perfect for what you need,” Cavan said, sounding as if he commanded it.

Addie took hold of Honora’s arm and turned a broad smile on all three sons. “You wouldn’t be thinking of telling me what I can do and can’t do, now would you?”

Lachlan and Artair looked directly at Cavan.

“Cowards,” he muttered beneath his breath while glaring at them.

“Did you say something, Cavan?” Addie asked.

Cavan shook his head, though it wasn’t at his mother. He was shaking it at himself, for he knew he was just as much a coward as his brothers. He couldn’t forbid his mother from doing what she wished; besides, it wouldn’t work. She’d do what she wanted anyway.

“Honora knows the woods well. I’m sure you both will be fine,” he said with a sense of surrender.

He was glad when his wife kissed his cheek, for he took the moment to whisper in her ear, “A couple of hours, no more, or then I search for you.”

She smiled and pressed her cheek to his to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t do that. The magic of the woods may swallow you whole.”

He stared after her and his mother as they chattered while grabbing cloaks off the pegs near the door and rushing out.

“Mother always gets her way,” Artair said with a respectful smile.

“It seems that Honora does as well,” Lachlan teased with a wide grin.

“Wait. Just both of you wait,” Cavan said confidently. “Wait until your wives do the same to you.”

“Not likely,” Lachlan boasted.

“I agree,” Artair said. “My wife will not challenge my commands, though I will be reasonable.”

“There’s something you two should have learned by now,” Cavan said tersely. “There’s no reasoning with women, ever, never. Not a single solitary woman can you reason with. It’s impossible.”

“You just don’t know how,” Lachlan said.

Cavan shook his head.

“Lachlan’s right,” Artair said. “You just don’t know how. Women can be reasonable creatures.”

“Pliable, is more like it,” Lachlan beamed. “You just have to know how to get them to bend, be flexible, and eventually surrender.”

Cavan broke out into a fit of laughter. “Are you two in for a surprise. No, a shock is more like it.”

“We’ll see,” Artair said confidently.

“We certainly will,” Cavan said, and raised his tankard of ale, silently toasting his brothers’ foolishness.

Honora realized her stepfather was following her and Addie as soon as they left the keep. Many wouldn’t have noticed, but think he was strolling about, waving to those he knew. But Honora knew better. He was up to something, and she didn’t like the disturbing feeling that gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

It wasn’t until they reached the edge of the village that Calum made himself known. Honora was shocked to see that he held a bouquet of flowers. It looked as if he’d made an effort in seeing to his appearance, his garments fitting him well, with only a few stains here and there and a button missing from his vest.

“For you,” Calum said, handing the flowers to Addie with a slight bow. “These beautiful flowers pale next to your beauty.”

Honora wanted to choke. Her stepfather couldn’t be serious. Did he intend to woo her mother-in-law? The idea was outrageous, and Addie was simply too intelligent a woman to be swayed by Calum.

“Thank you,” Addie said. “It is very thoughtful of you.”

Honora was struck silent. Addie actually smiled softly and sniffed the few wildflowers smothered by green foliage, only the most hardy having survived the start of winter. Honora was horrified that Addie would even consider the prospect of accepting the token gift. After all, it would announce to everyone that she was open to a courtship. And it was just like Calum to do it publicly, where all could see his respectful and honest intentions.

Addie inspected the flowers and gave them another sniff. “In all the years Tavish and I were married, he could still surprise me with flowers. I never knew when to expect them, and it made the flowers all the more precious to me.”

Calum stuck out his chest proudly, and Honora grew annoyed seeing that several villagers were watching the exchange, knowing that gossiping tongues would soon be busy.

Addie sighed and shoved the bouquet back at Calum. “I can’t accept these, nor do I want to. The only man who will ever give me flowers is my beloved husband, Tavish. I will accept none from any other man. Do I make myself clear, Calum?”

Honora wanted to hug Addie tightly and whoop with delight. Instead she remained by Addie’s side with a beaming smile.

She wasn’t surprised to see her stepfather’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment. He deserved the discomfort for even considering that Addie would be interested in a man so soon after her husband’s passing. But true to her stepfather’s selfish nature, he continued to try.

“Perhaps in time,” Calum said.

“No!” Addie said curtly. “No time will heal my broken heart. Tavish was the love of my life and there will be no other. Do not dishonor me or disgrace yourself by attempting another overture, for next time I will not be polite.”

Addie turned, and Honora did the same though her steps were abruptly halted when her arm was grabbed.

She knew whose hand was on her, and turned on Calum with a fury. “Take your hand off me.”

“How dare—”

“No,” she shouted. “How
dare
you touch me.”

“Quiet,” he warned harshly. “Or you will pay for your insolence.”

Addie had stopped and turned to stare at them, though she did not attempt to intervene. She obviously felt Honora could handle Calum herself, and that made Honora feel proud.

“Get your hand off me, Calum, and I won’t warn you again,” she said firmly.

“I am your father—”

She yanked her arm free, though it hurt since his
fingers had a firm bite on her flesh. But it also felt good, as if she were freeing more than her arm, but freeing herself of him, something she had wanted to do for so very long. “You are not my father and never have been.”

“You will obey me—”

“I will not,” she said. “Not now, not ever.”

Calum rushed toward her, and she braced her hand on the dirk in the sheath at her waist. He halted so fast that he almost toppled over.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he choked.

“Are you so sure?” she asked calmly.

He turned a startling red. “You’ll be sorry.”

“I am sorry.”

He sneered confidently.

“Sorry that I didn’t stand up to you sooner. Don’t ever cross my path again—”

“Only your husband can banish me from the clan,” he said furiously.

“Is that what you wish me to do, wife? Have him banished?”

Honora smiled at her husband, having watched him approach slowly, allowing her to have her say while letting her know that he was there to protect her. Calum, however, turned with a start.

“It is your choice,” Cavan said, walking past Calum and taking a stance beside his wife.

“Banishment is not necessary, but I don’t care if I ever lay eyes on him again,” Honora said, glaring at Calum.

“You speak bravely with your husband by your
side,” Calum accused, then looked as if he bit his tongue, but too late.

Cavan rubbed his chin. “I think you should earn your keep here, Calum.” He turned to Honora. “Use him as target practice for your bow lessons.”

Honora contained her chuckle. “That would not be fair. He is so large that I would not miss hitting him.”

Calum looked ready to burst, he grew so red, and she suddenly grew cautious. He was not one to be taken lightly. He always found a way to retaliate against those he felt deserved his wrath, which she knew, having been on the receiving end most of her life. Had she truly expected him not to make her pay for her defiance?

“Let him be,” Honora said abruptly, old memories disturbing her.

Cavan nodded. “Your choice.” He looked to Calum. “Stay away from my wife and my mother.”

“As you wish,” Calum said, and bowed respectfully, though his angry eyes settled on Honora as he did.

She felt them bore slowly into her like dagger points finding the flesh, digging deeper and little by little. Calum would make her pay, she had no doubt, and she would have to make her final stand and once and for all be free of him.