The Highlander's Bride(72)
“Perhaps, but I wasn’t willing to wed a filthy, smelly, ignorant man like you.”
“Scorn me all you like, but when that husband of yours leaves you and your father learns the truth, you’ll be suffering for sure.” He grinned, and Sara cringed. “Unless of course you take a new husband.”
It finally dawned on Sara. “You weasel, you’ve been lurking in the bushes listening to me and Teresa talk here by the creek.”
“What does it matter?” Harken shrugged. “I’m sure your father would like to hear what I know, unless of course—”
“He won’t believe you,” Sara said.
“He will when it comes to pass,” Harken boasted. “And I’m a patient man, I can wait.”
Sara had been caught off guard. She’d never expected something like this to happen, hadn’t even known Harken was around, nor had she considered him a threat in any way. Now here he was, threatening to spoil her plan. How did she handle him?
Killing him would be preferable and solve the problem, she thought, but she had only killed that once, in self-defense; this was a different matter.
Then she realized she wasn’t alone in handling this, and folding her arms across her chest, smiled. “Why don’t we discuss this with my husband and see what he has to say?”
“I’m not afraid of your husband,” Harken boasted with a tremble.
“You should be,” Sara warned. “He won’t take kindly to you threatening his wife.”
“False wife,” he accused with a sneer.
“And you’ll be proving that how?” she said on a laugh.
Harken raised a shaking fist at her. “Mock me, woman, and you’ll be sorry.”
Sara took a couple of quick steps toward him and he stumbled away from her. “You remember the last time you thought to threaten me or do you need a reminder?”
“You were promised to me and I’ll see that I get what is mine,” he said defiantly.
“Sara is mine!”
Harken paled a deathly white and his eyes near popped from his head, while Sara’s heart leapt and her legs quivered beneath her dark blue skirt at her husband’s thunderous proclamation.
Cullen’s arms were soon around her, having approached from behind, and she hugged the strong arms that embraced her waist. He pressed his body hard against hers, letting her know he was there for her, would protect her, keep her from harm, and that knowing filled her with an indefinable pleasure.
“Explain yourself,” Cullen ordered with a shout at Harken.
The man looked ready to run, inching slowly away like a crawling bug.
“I’m a patient man,” Harken said, staring directly at Sara, then he turned and ran.
“What was that all about?” Cullen asked, turning Sara around in his arms.
She almost sighed at the sight of him, so handsome and clean and fresh smelling. She wanted to hug him close and never let him go. Instead, she kissed him, nothing passionate, simply generous.
She eased away from him, though took his hand. She would not have him think her upset. She would not have him know how she truly felt.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go see your son.”
He halted her with a tug. “Alexander is sleeping and we go nowhere until you tell me what this is about.”
Did she tell him or did she deal with it herself? The way Harken had paled and trembled at the sight of her husband probably guaranteed that he wouldn’t show himself again until after Cullen left, though she couldn’t be certain of that. If it were the case, would she be able to handle him herself?
She had been handling her problems alone well before she’d wed Cullen, she thought. She would do so again.
“He’s disgruntled, having lost his chance at joining the McHern clan,” she said, speaking the truth though not all of it.
“Before I leave, I will make certain he will not bother you.”
“Not necessary,” she advised, her tone light, her heart aching.
Then they walked hand in hand, the sun a bright yellow globe in a clear sky and the air warm for spring. It was a perfect day, a perfect moment; if only it were real, she thought.
Chapter 26
Cullen woke alone the next morning and turned to bury his face in Sara’s warm pillow, the scent of her still fresh on the white linens. Hints of lavender and pine mixed with her unique womanly aroma and he inhaled deeply of it.
He threw the coverlet off and rushed out of bed, perturbed by the fact that he favored Sara’s scent while unable to remember Alaina’s. He’d come to realize that Alaina had been fading from his memory little by little each day. Where once he could picture her so clearly in his mind, it was now more of a faded view, as if obscured by a mist.