The Highlander's Bride(61)
The bond had started well before the journey. It began when Sara decided to save his son. He reached out to brush a stubborn curl away from the corner of her mouth. She was a beautiful woman, and not only to the eyes, but to the heart. She was caring and compassionate and blunt in her efforts to do what she saw was necessary, and more so, what was right.
He hadn’t given thought to loving again, but Sara would be easy to love.
He turned on his back with a soft sigh. He couldn’t think about her now, he didn’t have the right. Tomorrow he would fulfill the promise he’d made to Alaina. He would hold his son in his arms and keep him forever safe.
Cullen had never doubted this day would come. He would have moved heaven and earth to keep his word to Alaina and find their son. But he’d never imagined he would be doing so with his wife.
He turned at her soft cries and saw that she stirred fitfully in her sleep. Was she dreaming once again of forfeiting her life for him and Alexander? He would never let that happen. He might have failed to protect Alaina, but he wouldn’t fail in protecting Sara. He would make certain no harm came to her.
His revenge against the Earl of Balford would serve twofold. He’d avenge Alaina’s senseless death, and he would guarantee Sara’s safety once he was gone. If he left Scotland without doing so, he’d leave Sara in peril. The earl would certainly track her down, and once he discovered her deception, he would execute her, if torture didn’t claim her first.
Sara’s fretful moan had him responding instinctively. He reached over and took her in his arms, tucking her in the crook of one arm so her head rested comfortably on his chest. Her arm wound around him and her leg slipped comfortably between his two.
They fitted naturally together, as if carved from the same stone, and the thought pleased yet disturbed him. He had thought he and Alaina a perfect match, that he would fit no other but her. Yet here he slept fitted perfectly with his wife.
How did he make sense of it?
Did he want to or did he just enjoy the time he had with her?
How, then, did he walk away from her?
The questions played havoc with his thoughts until finally he simply surrendered to the comfort he felt with Sara snuggled against him and he fell asleep.
He woke with a stretch, working the sleep from his body, then bolted up in bed when he realized Sara wasn’t beside him. He was quick to dress and run her comb through his long hair. He was wrapping the ties of his sandals around his legs when she came prancing proudly through the door, a smile of joy on her face and a platter of food in her hands.
“You are the talk of the village,” she said, placing the platter on the table near one of the two windows. “Everyone agrees I’ve done well for myself, though none believe it will last. Most are sure you will grow tired of my blunt tongue and willful nature soon enough. Some of the women plan to vie for your attention, assured you’ll be looking for another wife.”
“And this pleases you?” he asked, annoyed.
“It should please us both. No one will be the wiser when we begin to bicker and you take your leave.”
Suddenly, he didn’t care for the plan. Sara would suffer ridicule once he was gone, and she didn’t deserve that.
“Honey bread, eggs, porridge, meats, fruit, eat your fill,” she offered, slipping onto one of the two chairs flanking the small table.
Cullen joined her, not very hungry. He didn’t like thinking of the fate Sara would suffer because of him. It wasn’t right. She was a good woman and deserved so much more.
“I’d prefer to see my son as soon as possible, and I’m not ready to bicker just yet.” He leaned down and deposited a kiss on her cheek.
Sara placed a gentle hand to her cheek where he had kissed her. “Neither am I.”
“Good, then let’s enjoy the day, for it will certainly be a good one. I will finally hold my son in my arms. But first…” He took a plaid cloth from one of his satchels and handed it to Sara.
She stood, accepting it, and asked, “What is this?”
“My plaid for my wife to wear.”
Sara’s eyes grew glassy, as if close to tears, then she broke out in a big grin and worked quickly to secure the red, black, and yellow plaid over and across her blouse and around her waist.
“Thank you for letting me wear this,” she said. “It will please my father and impress my clan even more.”
He wanted to make it clear that the plaid was meant for her, his wife, not to impress anyone, but held his tongue. It would only cause a debate he wasn’t ready to have, and perhaps he would never be. He could, however, let her know how well the colors fit her and how proud he was for her to be wearing them.