The Highlander's Bride(55)
A friend you want to bed.
Damn that voice and damn his betraying thoughts and feelings. Sara’s decision was best for them both. He should be grateful she had more sense than he did. He would play the loving husband, annoyed husband, distant husband, whatever kind of husband Sara wanted and be done with it.
“Be done with it!” he mumbled harshly.
“Did you say something?” Sara asked with a quick glance at him.
Was that a tear at the corner of her eye? She had turned around so fast he couldn’t quite be sure and it damn well disturbed him.
Sara just wasn’t the type to cry.
“I didn’t say anything,” he answered. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she called out much too cheerily.
She hadn’t conversed with him all morning and now this false cheeriness in her voice. What was going on?
“We should stop to rest the horses and ourselves,” he shouted.
She turned after brushing her hand at her eyes and he grew even more suspicious.
“Later,” she insisted.
“Now!” he demanded. “Isn’t there a brook nearby? I seem to remember stopping at one with my father.”
“Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “It meanders through much of the hillside in these parts, the water cold and clear.”
“Just what we need,” he said, and directed the horses off the trodden path. He knew Sara would follow, albeit grudgingly. He wanted to know what troubled her and he was determined they wouldn’t take another step until she shared her concern with him.
The horses drank at the brook while he placed a blanket near the water’s edge. Sara laid out some bread and cheese, though appeared uninterested in the light fare. Cullen was famished, their morning fare inadequate.
“You’re not hungry?” he asked, reaching for the bread and tearing a piece off.
“Not really,” she said, sitting crossed-legged on the edge of the blanket and staring at the babbling brook.
“Tell me what’s troubling you,” he demanded so sharply that she whipped around to face him. “And don’t bother to tell me it’s nothing. I know better.”
“Do you now?” she asked curtly.
He nodded. “You being silent means something is troubling you, so tell me and be done with it.”
She let out an agitated sigh and shook her head. “I don’t have to share my upset with you.”
“But you do,” he insisted with a soft smile. “You see, somehow I’ve grown concerned for your well-being. Maybe it’s because I’m your husband and I take my duties seriously. Maybe it’s because I consider you a good friend and I don’t want to see you hurt, or maybe I care for you and want to help. Whatever it is, I don’t intend to budge from this spot until you share it with me.”
“You don’t have to feel any such way for me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand at his face.
He shrugged. “Regardless, I do, and that’s that.”
She puffed her chest and looked ready to protest.
“Don’t bother arguing with me. It only wastes time.”
Sara deflated fast enough, her shoulders slumping. “It’s the dream.”
“Tell me,” he offered gently.
Her reluctance remained obvious as she shifted uneasily from side to side and dug her fingers deep into her unruly red curls.
He dusted bread crumbs off his hands then reached out, locking his fingers with hers, and simply waited. He noticed then that her eyes bore signs of tears, so contrary to her confident nature, and it annoyed him that she had grown so very upset and chosen to suffer alone.
“Let me help ease your hurt, Sara,” he urged.
“It’s nothing more than a nightmare that haunts me,” she insisted, dismissing his help.
“Share it with me and perhaps we can make sense of it together.”
He watched the play of mixed emotions flash across her face, questioning whether that was a wise choice. Until finally she seemed to surrender, the faint lines around her narrowed eyes fading, her tight jaw relaxing and her taut chest softening with a sigh.
“The dream seemed so real,” she said.
“I’ve had a few of those myself.”
“You have?” she asked anxiously.
He nodded. “It was madness, but I dreamed I was rescued from Weighton prison by a young lad.” He shrugged. “It turned out to be a young woman in disguise.”
He meant his story to ease her concerns, but it appeared to disturb her, her face growing tense once again.
“Then your dream did come true.”
He realized that hers hadn’t been a dream, but a nightmare, and she obviously feared it coming true. He moved closer beside her and slipped his hand from hers to drape around her shoulder and draw her against him.