Wed to a Highland Warrior (13 page)

Deryn sniffled. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Bliss said.

Trey stepped forward. “And you have my word as a warrior.”

Philip eased his way past everyone and offered Deryn his wooden cow. “You can have this, and we can play together while you wait for your mum.”

Deryn smiled and took the cow.

Leave it to a child to make another child smile,
Bliss thought.

Deryn and Philip played on the bed while the adults all gathered in the other room.

“We’ll get the last of your things packed on the cart along with the children and see you on your way,” Trey said. “Then Bliss and I will go see to Mary and her daughter.”

“What if Mary—”

Bliss stopped Teresa before she could finish. “Do not worry. We will bring them both to you in time.”

While Trey hurried them to finish, Teresa gave the last of the soup to the children, with a chunk of bread. She then saw to dousing the fire and making sure the last of what they would need was given to her husband and Trey to put in the cart.

With directions given to Mary’s farm and a route to MacAlpin village mapped out, one that would hopefully avoid any soldiers, Trey and Bliss waved good-bye, though not before the little girl had reminded Bliss of her promise.

“Tell me. Do you sense anything about Mary and her daughter,” Trey said, as they turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“They grow worse. We need to hurry.”

Chapter 16

I
t took them an hour to reach the farm, and, once Trey was certain no soldiers lurked about, he and Bliss approached the cottage. Trey insisted on entering first. An unpleasant odor gave him pause and as soon as he saw the two prone bodies on the bed, the mother’s arms around the small girl, he thought the worst.

Bliss pushed past him. “They’re not dead; they’re ill and need tending.”

Trey watched for a moment as Bliss went to work on the two. Then he said, “I’m going to scout the area and see if it is safe to stay here.”

“You don’t have to. There are none nearby and none expected just yet.”

No wonder she was able to keep herself from harm when alone. She knew when and where it was safe to travel. How remarkable to have such power . . . and what a burden.

“Can you get a fire started and get me water from the rain barrel outside and set it to boil in the cauldron?” she asked, nodding at the large black pot hanging from a hook in the cold fireplace. “I need to set a broth to cooking while I clean and help heal them.”

Trey and Bliss both went to work.

While he got a fire going, Bliss filled two buckets with water. When she began to tend the woman and child, Trey stepped outside and told her to let him know if she needed help.

He spent the time looking around the farm. It was obvious after only a few glances that there was not enough food for the woman and two girls to survive on. The soldiers had stripped them of all animals and what food they had harvested. The few winter plants left untouched would never be enough to sustain them. And from the look of the woman in the bed, she was a petite thing without the strength to endure on her own.

Though Bliss had assured him that no soldiers were about, his warrior instincts warned him about always remaining alert. He dropped onto an old wooden bench he thought might collapse from his weight, but didn’t. It sat close to the door, and he wanted to be near if Bliss should call out for help.

She was an amazing woman, whose skills were sought after by many, and, when needed, she would go where necessary without question. Now, however, she was his wife, and he did not want a wife of his traipsing off wherever fate would send her.

How would he keep her safe? And he didn’t want her away from him for too long; he would miss her far too much.

Miss her?

The thought that he would miss her put a grin on his face. It was no chore spending every moment with Bliss. Whether they talked, kissed, touched, or were silent, he enjoyed it all.

Even more than I had with Leora.

The sudden thought didn’t upset him as it once would have. Perhaps he was finally able to lay Leora to rest and live again. He hadn’t admitted to anyone how lifeless he had felt since her death. It was as if a vital part of him had died along with her, and only now was it resurrecting.

He hadn’t even realized how deeply her death had affected him until Bliss came along. Being with her, feeling for her, had filled that empty void, that pit of darkness he had come to accept and live with.

He had thought it was his lot in life to continue on as he had, feeling nothing and not wanting to. Bliss had changed all that.

He grinned and shook his head. Damn, but he was grateful that she had. And now . . . he didn’t know what he’d do without her, and he didn’t want to find out.

She was his wife, and he planned on keeping her his wife.

The door to the cottage opened, and Trey stood.

Bliss stepped outside and discarded a bundle of bedding to the side. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back before stretching her arms to the sky.

“Mother and child?” he asked.

“Come see,” she said, and preceded him through the doorway.

Trey stood amazed at the woman and child sitting up in bed, their faces still pale. But a hint of color stained their freshly washed cheeks. They wore clean garments, and a clean blanket covered them. The cottage even appeared brighter though perhaps it was the pleasant scent of bubbling broth that made the difference.

Trey introduced himself to Mary, and the little girl, who could be no more than four years old, proudly announced, “Allena.”

Trey bowed gallantly. “I am most pleased to meet you, Allena. You are feeling better?”

She nodded, smiled, and cuddled up to her mother.

“I can’t thank you and Bliss enough for sending my daughter Deryn to safety with Albert and Teresa,” Mary said, her voice surprisingly strong.

“You and Allena will be joining her when you are well enough to travel,” he assured her, and looked to Bliss.

“With some hot broth and a good night’s sleep to give them strength, I would say we could leave tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what is in that broth,” Mary said with a smile and a tear in her eye, “but I feel strong already.”

Allena nodded to let everyone know she felt the same.

Trey didn’t bother to tell Mary that it was Bliss’s touch that had healed them so quickly though he wondered himself over their rapid recovery. Most times Bliss’s healing had taken longer, but this . . . this bordered on miraculous.

A chill ran through him. Were her powers far greater than he had known?

Bliss filled a tankard with some broth and handed it to Trey. “To warm you and keep you strong.”

With a grin, he leaned down, and whispered in her ear, “I’m not strong enough for you?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I’m thinking you will soon need extra stamina.”

“Then you better drink some yourself, so you can keep up with me.”

“Have no fears,” she whispered, “for I will far outlast you.”

“A challenge?”

She chuckled. “A knowing.”

He found himself speechless, and she smiled as she turned, though stopped suddenly. Her body swayed slightly, and her hand shot out to grab the table. He reached out, his arm wrapping around her waist as he placed his tankard on the table. Then both his arms settled around her, and her head came to rest on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Just tired,” she assured him.

He didn’t believe her for one minute, and he sensed that she knew that. Her next words proved him right.

“We’ll talk later.”

Which he knew meant when we’re alone, so he let it be . . . for now.

He kept his arms around her until she was ready to leave them, and when she moved to slip away, he let her though he reminded in a whisper, “Later.”

She nodded and returned to healing mother and child.

It wasn’t until later that night when all was quiet, Mary and Allena asleep, that he and Bliss had a chance to speak.

They had moved the table and chairs to make room for their blanket on the ground in front of the fireplace. No flames were needed to warm them; their bodies snuggled close did that for them.

Trey kept a firm arm draped around her waist, her back snug against his chest, and his leg resting over both of hers. A wool blanket covered them.

Contentment washed over him, and he wondered if it wasn’t only his own he felt. Bliss rested contentedly in his arms though he could tell she was fatigued. He didn’t know how he knew it, he simply did.

“You are bone-tired,” he said against her temple after kissing there.

“More than usual, but that is the way of it when I attempt to heal quickly.”

“It robs you of strength? The reason you almost collapsed earlier?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“But it is,” he said. “You give too much at times.”

“When necessary, I give more than usual, and this situation warranted more,” she said, her last word caught on a yawn.

How did he argue that with her? She was right, this situation did warrant more. Mary and her daughter needed to get well as fast as possible so that they could leave the area, which was growing ever more dangerous.

“What of your strength? You share it with others, then leave yourself exhausted. How then do you manage the journey?”

“Sleep will heal me well enough.”

“I remember seeing you sitting in the chair beside my bed sleeping.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was talking with you just as I did with Philip,” she said. “You are a brave warrior, but your heartache kept you from fighting as strongly as you could have. I had to get past your sorrow to help you heal well.”

He was curious. “Did you sense my sorrow?”

“Your sadness was so great that I felt it as if it were my own. My own heart hurt for yours, and I wished there was something I could have done. But such heartache is for fate to heal, not me.”

“But you have helped heal my heartache,” he admitted.

Her hand slipped over his, where it rested at her waist, and locked fingers with him. “You finally want it to heal, and so healing has begun. I have learned through the many healings I have done that those who not only wish to get well, but have a strong reason to get well, heal much faster than those who have surrendered to their illness . . . surrendered to death.”

“So in a sense, Mary and her daughter helped your healing along because they both had a reason to live?”

Bliss nodded while she yawned. “Mary’s determined to see her daughters safe, and hope is alive in her heart that her husband will return to her. Allena misses her da and worries over her sister, so she fought to live for them.”

He was silent a moment, then asked, “I felt as if I had nothing to live for after I lost Leora. Why then, when I was so close to death, didn’t I die? And I don’t believe fate had anything to do with my living. So what then kept me alive?”

“Something just as powerful as love.”

“There is nothing more powerful than”—he shook his head—“hate.”

“Your hate for those who took Leora from you gave you the will to live though, at the time, you didn’t know it,” she said. “A warning . . . leave revenge to fate. She has a way of balancing things in time, and though it may take us a while to realize it, in the end we are aware of the wisdom of her ways.”

“I don’t need fate fighting
my
battles for me.”

“Perhaps it’s not
your
battle to fight, but
hers.
” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Right now I battle to keep my eyes open. I must sleep.”

“Surrender to sleep,” he urged, and wrapped himself more snugly around her.

“And will you surrender to fate?”

Trey waited and let sleep claim her so he wouldn’t have to answer. He was a Highlander warrior who fought for the true king of Scotland. Surrendering was not in his blood; he would fight to the death.

And someday he would find and kill the man or men who took Leora from him.

B
liss walked alongside Mary, her steps filled with strength that Bliss lacked. She hadn’t been surprised at the woman’s quick recovery. As soon as she had started to heal her, Bliss had felt her determination to get well and protect her family. While it had taken more of her strength than usual, it hadn’t been difficult. Mary’s courage had helped tremendously.

“He will be a good da,” Mary said, with a nod to Trey.

Bliss smiled. Trey walked ahead of them, with Allena perched on his broad shoulders. At first she had been apprehensive about it, but he had cajoled her into it, and now, after traveling over an hour, she giggled with delight.

“Aye, he will make a good da,” Bliss agreed and couldn’t help but think of having children with him. A daughter who would have her abilities or perhaps a son who would? A large brood they would have for she doubted she would be able to keep her hands off him. The urge to make love with him never left her, and she worried that it never would, or perhaps the worry was that they would never have the chance to make love.

Fate had predicted otherwise, and she should not doubt fate, so why worry? Or was her worry that they would make love, for then it would seal their vows and it would be that much harder to end their marriage.

Why did she continue to think their marriage would end? Her knowing had not indicated it would, yet she had this nagging doubt. What caused it? Could it have something to do with the way the blond woman haunted in images and dreams?

She felt a catch to her chest. It was time to admit that she knew the identity of the woman in her visions. She had realized who the woman was when she had insisted that Trey belonged to her. It was Leora.

The only thing she couldn’t understand was why, with Leora dead, she fought for Trey?

She had slept fitfully last night, thanks to Leora, though she had been grateful she had not gotten stuck in her dreams. The woman would simply not leave her alone. She was either begging for help or warning Bliss that Trey belonged to her and that Bliss could not have him.

She wondered if perhaps it was Trey who kept her close in death, refusing to release her and let her rest in peace.

“You are lucky to have such a good man,” Mary said. “My Thomas is a good man and a good da.” She got misty-eyed. “The girls so miss their da.”

Bliss got a sudden image of the injured farmers they had helped. There had been one man who had been seriously injured with a wound to his side. She had feared he wouldn’t make it, but he had fought hard. He had been determined to live. It would take time, but Bliss knew that he would heal.

“Thomas does not have the fine features of your man,” Mary said. “But he is handsome to me just the same. He stands only a head over me and is heavy with muscle.” She laughed. “He often hoists a girl up in each arm, and they squeal with delight as he kisses their cheeks repeatedly.”

“By any chance had he suffered a broken nose one time?” Bliss asked.

Mary’s eyes popped wide. “How did you know that?”

“I wondered because Trey and I came across a group of farmers who had been abandoned by the soldiers because of their injuries. There was a man among them who is similar in features as you have described, and I wondered . . .”

“My Thomas? You saw my Thomas? Did he not tell you his name? He would—” She gasped. “He’s hurt and cannot speak?”

“This man suffered a wound to his side that in time will heal, but he was not well enough to tell me who he was.”

Mary sighed with relief. “My Thomas would have been wearing gray leggings and a brown tunic with a gray shirt, the cuffs frayed. His right ear would have a chunk missing from it, an accident when he was but a lad.”