Terri Brisbin (15 page)

How had she become so frighteningly important to him when he had purposely wed a woman so unlike his first wife?

“What troubles you, Gavin?” Brenna’s sleep-husky voice called him from black thoughts.

He peered over at her by the first rays of dawn streaming in through the open window, her green eyes bright with new feminine moods he had not seen in her. Was she happy this morn, or did she regret their new bond as husband and wife?

“I was contemplating our sleeping arrangements.”

She slid closer in the bed, her bare skin brushing his in a tantalizing touch. “They are much more interesting this way, don’t you agree?”

Gently he rearranged her pillow and inserted a hand’s space between them once again. “It occurs to me that ye could become pregnant again.”

“I trust that news would be more welcome to you, Gavin, but I had rather hoped it would not be the sole pleasure we took in our marriage bed.” She frowned, her soft pink lips curving into a pout.

This would be far more difficult than he had imagined. Steeling himself against the undeniable allure of his bride, he tried again.

“I would not ask too much of your body after everything ye’ve been through. And while I am grateful that we are now bound as man and wife, I am not without care for yer health.” He hoped she would understand his meaning, but she continued to look upon him with hazy confusion in her eyes. “Per
haps it would help matters if we were to maintain our own chambers.”

“You do not wish to sleep with me?”

Regret pounded through him as he remembered all the ways she had touched him so sweetly—and, by turns, so brazenly—the night before.

“It is nae a matter of what I
wish
for, believe me—”

“I thought you married me because you have seen with your own eyes that I can deliver heirs? You said it yourself that night on the road to Montrose Keep.” She propped her elbow beneath her head, her dark hair spilling softly over her arm to pool on the bed linens.

“I hoped you would one day bear a babe with me, Brenna, but that doesna mean it has to be next year. Ye must give yerself time to heal after all ye’ve been through.”

Swiping a hand through her silky dark hair, she propped herself on her elbow to lean over him, the linens slipping low on the swell of her breasts.

“I understand your fears, Gavin, but I am certain in my heart that we would bear strong, healthy children together.” She smoothed a feathery touch down his cheek. “You must trust in me.”

“Ah, lass, ye ask for my trust when I have seen childbirth steal my own wife. And recall that when I asked for yer trust at Montrose Keep, ye didna give it.”

“Of course I gave it.” She sat up in the bed, covering herself with her pillow, although her bare arms and legs remained a tantalizing view. “I would never have vowed to handfast with you in the first place if I hadn’t been certain you were the man who could retrieve my boys. I had every faith in the world that you would free them that day.”

“Yet when I asked for ye to wait for me while I saw the deed done, ye repaid me by pulling a knife on old Shamus Kirkpatrick. ’Tis nae very trusting at all.” He sighed his frus
tration, knowing he was straying too far from the topic at hand. “I only mean to say that ye canna simply ask for trust when ye give none in return.”

Her spine stiffened to that painfully straight posture he recalled from the first night she had arrived at Blackburn Keep.

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but it seems to me you are saying far more. Not only are you unwilling to trust me, but you also will not be sleeping with me.” She slid from the bed with quiet dignity, her gloriously naked body a mocking reminder of all the pleasure he would be forsaking. Slipping her tunic over her head, she glared at him with cool fire in her eyes. “Then I pray you will excuse me, Gavin, while I seek my own chambers. After having fallen in love with you, I had hoped that you would begin to care for me if we spent more time together as man and wife. I see now that was a foolish notion indeed.”

She had already donned her surcoat over her tunic and was reaching for the door when her words finally sank fully into his brain.

“Ye speak of love for me?” He could not comprehend that she would harbor such depth of feeling for him. Just yesterday she had been ready to forsake her handfast vows to maintain her precious freedom.

“A foolish fancy, perhaps, but I find I cannot command my heart in this matter.”

Gavin shook his head in wonder, not sure whether or not to believe her. Worse, he feared the damage it would do to
his
heart if he allowed himself to trust her in this. “Ye’re the only woman in all the Highlands who could make a declaration of love sound as encouraging as a death knell.”

She smoothed elegant fingers over the creases in her rumpled surcoat. “It seems I have little to celebrate when you are relegating me to my own chamber.”

“I had forgotten how unreasonable fears could be when yer
heart is at stake, Brenna.” And if he allowed himself to love her…the thought of losing her would be all the more devastating.

“I am stronger than you know.” Her eyes glittered with tears he knew she would not shed over him.

“Aye. So strong that ye’re willing to put yerself at risk far too often.” He thought of her reckless ride to Robert the Bruce, her bold wielding of a knife when her children were about to be spirited away by the Kirkpatrick laird. “When will ye see that there is strength in holding back on occasion?”

Frustration churned in her eyes and he knew she did not understand him or what he wanted. Would she ever?

She drew herself up, her proud bearing dignified despite her wrinkled garments. “If you will excuse me—”

Whatever she might have said was lost in the sudden pealing of a deep, resonant chime.

“What is it?” Brenna turned toward the window while Gavin grabbed up his tunic.

“The watchtower bell.” He knotted his braies and reached for his sword. “Alister signals to me that an enemy approaches.”

B
renna heard the chamber door slam behind Gavin before the last echo of the ringing bell faded. Fear scuttled up her spine as she wondered what dangers awaited outside Gavin’s gate. English troops come to seize a Scots keep? Or could the Kirkpatricks have mustered an army to take back the six-year-old heir to their clan?

Scrambling to finish dressing, she donned her hose and slid into her slippers before following her warrior husband down the steps of the gallery and out of the keep. Lifting her skirts enough to allow her to run, she caught up with his long strides as he crossed the quiet courtyard.

“Ye need to secure the boys.” He didn’t spare her a glance as he surveyed the outer walls, pausing on Alister’s watchtower.

“I saw their door is still shut.” Brenna stubbed her toe on a wooden peddler’s cart and tried not to wince. “I thought I should know what sort of enemy we face before I make preparations in the keep.”

“Aye, but once ye’ve spied yer enemy are ye sure ye’ll be able to walk away?” His blue eyes pinned her for a scant moment as they met Kean and Alister near the watchtower. “Now
is the time to make yer choice. Do ye trust me to protect yer sons today, come what may?”

Alister, the same young man-at-arms Brenna had wheedled her way past that first night she’d set foot in Blackburn Keep, stepped forward. “Two riders, my laird. They say they come on behalf of Shamus Kirkpatrick and they only wish to talk.”

A chill chased over Brenna’s skin despite the warmth of the late-spring morning. Gulping back her fear, she kept her eyes on Gavin, knowing he expected her to make a decision.

Follow his will and remain safely within the keep? Or fix her person on her old enemy to prevent the wily Shamus from spiriting away her sons?

Both actions frightened her. But only one would provide her with a chance to earn Gavin’s love.

“Brenna?” He remained utterly still while his men moved along the outer walls, taking up their positions should Gavin call for their arrows.

“I will stay inside the keep to make sure my sons are safe.” The words stuck in her throat a bit, but she spoke them nevertheless, determined to demonstrate her trust. “I know you will protect them out here as well.”

The relief in his eyes was fleeting, but it had been there. Gavin gave her a short nod before he turned to Kean and climbed the watchtower, leaving Brenna to handle any Kirkpatrick treachery on his own.

“Gavin will get them!” Donovan shouted his prediction so loudly Brenna feared his little voice would carry down from the stable loft into the courtyard.

“Shh.” She thrust another piece of bread toward her youngest as they watched Gavin face off with two of Shamus Kirkpatrick’s men from their perch in the small hayloft above the stables.

She had meant to secure the boys in the keep. Truly she had. But by the time she returned to their chamber, their door
was wide-open and they were no longer in their beds. After a bout of heart-stopping panic, one of the kitchen maids told her she’d seen the boys head for the stables after snatching a bit of bread.

By the time she found them, there hadn’t been enough time to take them back to the keep. Alister was already opening the gate to admit the enemy. Now, Gavin spoke in tones low enough that Brenna could not hear their exchange, much to her frustration. She was curious how Gavin thought to settle the matter of Shamus Kirkpatrick’s stolen heir.

He did not seem inclined to make war over the matter, and for that, Brenna could not blame him. But all the Highlands knew of the legendary Kirkpatrick greed. Gavin must realize old Shamus would never rest until his legacy was secure. He would not wish to name another heir, only to have Callum claim the family seat—and the family wealth—when he was old enough to lead his own men.

Her hand went to rest instinctively on Callum’s shoulder while he lay on his belly beside her in the hay.

“I pray he ends this today,” she murmured, grateful Shamus had not made an appearance himself. No matter how much she loathed the old man’s clan, she did not want her sons to see their grandfather battle with Gavin.

“He will do this…” Donovan lifted his wooden sword and drew it across his neck with a childish flourish that included much gagging and his eyes rolling back in his head.

“No, he won’t,” Callum said simply, his dark eyes trained on the conversation between Gavin and the two men who Brenna recognized as Shamus’s sons by marriage.

“He won’t?” Brenna wondered where Callum found his quiet confidence in Gavin. She studied her eldest in the bright rays of the morning sunshine, the contours of his face endlessly fascinating to her after three long years away from him.

“He says ‘Never engage yer enemy unless ye hafta.’” He
tore his attention away from Gavin and the other men long enough to peer up at Brenna. “And I don’t think he’ll hafta today.”

She sincerely hoped Callum wouldn’t mind a kiss on the forehead, because Brenna could not resist embracing this young man who already made her so proud.

He squeezed her back while Donovan cried out, “Hafta! Hafta!” raising his wooden sword in the air.

“Hush!” Brenna murmured, her wary gaze darting back to the courtyard as she drew Donovan the fearless warrior into her arms too. How many lands would he conquer one day? Assuming he did not draw the wrath of his Kirkpatrick clan down upon their heads first.

“Gavin says waiting to engage your enemy gives you time to think and plan,” Callum continued, rattling off his practice yard lessons like a seasoned commander as he pulled away from Brenna’s arms and returned to his post at the window. “He’s probably thinking of something right now.”

Brenna watched Gavin where he stood in the courtyard, her thoughts traveling back in time to those years when she had admired him as a girl. He had made himself invaluable to Robert the Bruce at a very young age. Wouldn’t it make sense that he possessed more complex battle skills than a lethal sword arm? Perhaps she had underestimated his skills as a tactician.

Had she underestimated him as a husband, as well?

A twinge of regret pierced her as she recalled his anger over Alexandra’s note. He had done so much to help Brenna and she had repaid him by scheming to free herself from their handfast. Now that they were married, she would concentrate on making him happy and freeing him from the ghosts of his past.

“The Kirkpatricks are leaving.” Callum’s excited announcement caused Donovan to stop jousting with a broken oxen yoke while Brenna blinked herself free of wishful dreams.

And, lo and behold, outside in the courtyard, the Kirkpat
rick riders leaned over their mounts and kicked the animals into a bold run. Winding between a few crofters’ cottages and then bolting past the watchtower, the men disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, and Brenna’s sons still remained by her side.

Gavin had done it.

Giddy with gratitude, she muffled a happy sob as she squeezed them both to her again, the brief moment of joy too sweet to be overshadowed by the thunderous way Gavin called out her name over the whole courtyard.

Gavin had felt Brenna’s presence the whole time he’d been negotiating with the beef-witted louts sent by Shamus to retrieve his grandsons. Not that Gavin would ever allow it to happen.

Silence greeted his ears in the wake of his call. He did not know precisely where she had positioned herself during his negotiations with the ruthless Kirkpatricks, but she had been there. Watching.

He was about to call to her again when the door to the stables burst wide-open, Donovan leading the charge with his wooden sword twirling. Even the more cautious Callum ran toward Gavin, his skinny knees pumping. At a glance, he could see he’d won the boys over to his side, but he could not tell about his most staunch judge, who came his way more slowly, bits of hay still clinging to her purple gown.

Would she be pleased with the bargain he’d made with her sons’ clan? Or would she only resent not being there to negotiate her own terms?

Her expression remained inscrutable, her features, which used to be so animated when she was a girl, were now tempered by age and wisdom. He would gladly spend a lifetime coaxing smiles from her lips, but would she be content with him after the way he’d forced her to choose between meet
ing her enemies head-on and protecting her children in the background?

Perhaps he had been unwise to give her such an ultimatum, but after his first wife’s death, he found he could not suffer to see Brenna put herself in danger.

Donovan reached him first, the rambunctious four-year-old launching himself into Gavin’s arms for a hug before he cavorted about the yard, tilting his sword at sacks of grain from the mill while he played hide-and-seek with one of Rowan’s new pups.

Callum slowed his steps as he neared Gavin, but the serious boy bestowed upon him something Gavin had rarely seen from him before—an undiluted, childish grin.

“They won’t be back this time, will they?” Callum held his hand out to Brenna, drawing her close and squeezing her hand tight.

He might have done it to draw some comfort for himself, but Gavin had the sneaking suspicion Callum wanted his mother to hear the answer.

“Nay, they won’t be back.” Gavin knew Shamus was smart enough to take the solution he’d waved in front of him. “Ye’ve seen the last of yer grandfather, I’m afraid, but ye can see the rest of yer clan when ye are old enough to rule Montrose Keep for yerself.”

Callum glanced up at his mother. “It is for the best. Grandfather yelled at Donovan a lot.”

While Gavin hoped Callum’s indictment would not have his mother saddling the nearest horse to do battle with the old laird, he was surprised to feel Callum’s arms slide around his waist for a hug. He squeezed the boy back, allowing himself a moment to ruffle Callum’s baby-fine dark hair.

The unexpected show of affection left Gavin’s throat raw with emotion while the youth scampered off to play with the puppies and his brother. Leaving Gavin to face his wife alone.

Tears welled in her eyes as he turned to her, and for the first
time, she did not seem concerned with swallowing back the telltale emotions. Two neat streams coursed down her cheeks.

“You have put their hearts at ease,” she remarked, watching Callum pile as many pups as he could find in his brother’s lap. “For that, I can never repay you.”

“Let there be no more talk of repayment.” He drew her close, heedless of who might see them in the middle of the courtyard. Gently, he swiped away her tears. “And I promise I will not ask ye to choose where to fight yer battles in the future. We are both on the same side—now and always.”

“I have no need to fight all my own battles,” she admitted, blinking up at him in the warm spring sunshine. “I found myself very at ease in the hayloft today, content to hold the boys close while you chased away the enemies from the gate.”

“Did ye now?” He plucked pieces of straw from her hair. “Yet I noticed ye didna stay put in the keep where ye belonged.”

“It seems you have imparted the warrior spirit to the boys. They were already in position to ward off the enemy with their swords by the time I found them.”

Some of the tension in his shoulders slid away as he realized she had not been in the stables to watch over his actions with the Kirkpatricks. She had merely been protecting Callum and Donovan.

“What makes ye think they got their warrior spirit from me?” He cupped her chin, his thumb grazing the lips he had spent all night tasting. “Their mother is as strong a warrior as ever I’ve seen.”

She grinned up at him in the warmth of the May sunshine and his heart paused a beat at the glimpse of her old self, the cheeky Highland lass who had caught him off guard with a kiss one long-ago spring.

“Then let me be a warrior in the childbed, Gavin Blackburn, so that I may bear you all the sons you will need to carry on the legacy of your clan.” Her grin faded as she traced her
fingers over his tunic, slowing around the region of his heart. “I am touched that you would fear for my pain, but I know in the very fiber of my being that I was meant to be the mother to Blackburn babes.”

Stifling his old fears, Gavin knew he could not ask her to have faith in him if he gave her none in return. Silently vowing to do everything in the world to keep her safe and healthy, he nodded.

“Aye. Ye were destined to be the mother to our babes. Why else would ye have sought me out on a windy moor all those years ago to have yer brazen way with me?”

She poked him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince before pulling her against him for a long, thorough kiss. He did not set her free until they were both breathing hard, their thoughts already leaping to the night ahead.

“You are an arrogant man to kiss me in full view of any of your clan who might happen to be looking, Gavin Blackburn,” she whispered, her lips full and damp from his mouth. A gentle breeze played with her hair, blowing the silky strands temptingly about her shoulders as she stared up at him in the middle of the quiet courtyard.

“Ye are an incredible woman, Brenna Blackburn, and I love ye to distraction and beyond. I dinna care who knows it.”

“Does that mean you will sleep in my bed tonight, my lord?”

“Nay. That means ye will sleep in mine.”

He would have kissed her again, but her green eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Tell me something, Gavin. How did you make the Kirkpatricks leave, and what makes you so sure they won’t be back?”

Gavin couldn’t help a moment of pride in his scheme. “I told them they had best depart Scotland for good lest ye make public all the incriminating letters Fergus Kirkpatrick wrote.”

“I don’t have any of Fergus’s letters.” She frowned, a small shadow of worry in her eyes.

“But they don’t know that.” He squeezed her to him, en
joying his unusual craftiness. “I told them ye kept the letters to protect yerself in case Robert the Bruce ever came after ye or yer sons to avenge Kirkpatrick treachery.”

“And they would leave Scotland on the mere threat of exposure?” Her whole body tensed against him.

“Aye. Along with a bit of gold to ease their way in a new homeland. If Shamus isna swayed by the threat of hanging, I’ve no doubt that he’ll be wooed by the pleasing weight of gold in his hand. And before ye ask, I swear to ye, what I offered him is a small price to pay to insure he never returns.”