The Highlander's Bride(21)

They would make it through this bargain, she thought, for it was the answer to both their prayers. Guilt would serve no purpose, nor would regret. What was done was done, and what would be done would be done. She had to accept that this bargain was right for them, and she believed that Alaina would have felt the same. This bargain would reunite father and son, which is what Alaina had wanted.

A bevy of thoughts continued to haunt Sara until, finally exhausted, she fell into a heavy slumber.





She woke with a wide stretch and jolted up in bed when she realized she was alone. The cottage was empty, the fire cold, and the blanket tucked around her. She fingered the coarse heavy wool and thought how Cullen must have taken the time to tuck the blanket around her after getting out of bed.

A thoughtful gesture that touched her heart.

She finished her stretch with a yawn and bounced out of bed to slip on her boots and busy herself rolling up the blankets. She felt refreshed, though suspected she’d gotten only a few hours sleep. She was eager to continue their journey, eager to return home, and that alone was enough to renew her spirit.

Sara freshened her face with several splashes of the now cooled water in the caldron and ran her fingers through her curly hair. She couldn’t wait to get home and wear other garments, rather than only the plain skirt and blouse that had been her wardrobe for the last two years. She and her sister had spent winters huddled before a fire talking, laughing, and stitching some fine garments. It would be nice to have a selection to choose from once again.

The door burst open and Cullen entered without any snow flurries.

“The sun shines bright and the snow melts fast,” he announced. “By noon I wouldn’t be surprised if there was not a trace of it left on the ground.” He grabbed for their few parcels. “I say we leave right now and make the most of the daylight.”

“Agreed,” Sara said. “I’ll grab some bread to nibble on along the way.”

“Grab some for me too while I gather the horses.”

Sara had bread enough for both of them, and handed Cullen his share after they mounted their horses.

“We’ll keep a steady pace, stop to rest the horses, then be on the road again. I’d prefer not to stop until near nightfall.”

“That is fine with me, but we need to take the bend in the road up ahead—”

“I know,” Cullen said with a nod. “I recalled this morning my father taking me on a trip to deliver bows he had made for a Laird McFurst—”

“The Clan McFurst borders our land to the north.”

“I recalled my father mentioning the Clan McHern, and I remember a market we passed through where he treated me to a sweet cake. A memorable, mouthwatering treat.”

“Two days journey from here.”

“Good,” he said with a smile. “I will buy you a sweet cake.”

Sara nibbled on the dry bread, her mind on the sweet cake. It wasn’t the cake she actually gave thought to, but that he would buy her one. No man had ever bought her anything, had ever even given her anything. She felt a tug at her heart and warned herself not to think anything more about Cullen’s simple act of kindness.

After the bend in the road, the path opened wider and Sara directed her horse beside Cullen’s stallion.

“Your father, the man who raised you, was a bow maker?”

Cullen grinned. “He made the finest bows and arrows you’d ever know, and was as skillful in using them as he was in making them. I recall him telling me that patience was the key to a fine bow maker and a skillful archer.”

“And are you patient?”

“What do you think?”

Sara erupted in a spurt of laughter. “I think you have patience with a bow and arrow and nothing more.”

Surprisingly, Cullen laughed along with her. “I believe my father would agree with you.”

“You cared for the man who raised you,” she said softly.

“He was the only father I knew. The only person who treated me kindly and cared for me.”

“What happened to him?”

“He took ill. I cared for him, though he told me to go and make my way now that he had taught me all the skills I needed to survive.”

“But you didn’t leave him.”

Cullen shook his head. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. He had taken me in when I was ten. He taught me that there are caring people in this world. It was my turn to care for him, and I did. Once he passed and I saw to a proper burial, I left and made my way as he wanted me to.”

“Then he was a true father to you.”

Cullen nodded. “Yes. Yes, he was.”

Sara thought about him being ten, alone and frightened, taken in by a man who probably gave all his time to his bow making. He no doubt took Cullen in to help him, and somehow along the way, the older man began to care for the lonely lad and offered him what he could in the way of caring. He taught him how to survive.