The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(23)

“You did not know her long enough to love her,” she said.

“I knew from when she first spoke to me,” he said remembering. “Her voice was soft and gentle and her touch kind. It didn’t take long to realize how special she was, or for my feelings to stir for her. She was easy to love. There was no pretense about her. She was who she was…a kind soul. And she tempted her own fate, sneaking me extra food and blankets and visiting with me late at night when all was quiet.”

“I knew it,” Carissa snarled.

“Is that why you had me sold?”

“You should be grateful to me,” Carissa snapped. “You two could have never been.”

“Yes, we could. All you had to do was to let her go,” he said with a touch of sadness.

Carissa stared at him, and he thought for a brief second he saw regret, but then her blue eyes turned icy cold.

“She was a slave.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “She’s free.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a nod. “Death does that.”

They both sat silent, staring into the flames, lost in their own memories.

Ronan finally broke the silence. “We need to move the bed.”

“Why?”

“The draft from the wall is too much.”

She smiled. “You worry I will catch a chill.”

“And die before I can kill you myself.”

“Do you truly intend to kill me yourself?” she asked.

He ignored her question. “Help me move the bed.”

She shrugged. “To where?”

“In front of the hearth.”

“That would be wonderfully cozy.”

Again he ignored her and walked over to the bed. She followed him.

He looked her up and down. “I doubt you have the strength to help me.”

“I have more strength than you know.”

“Then prove it,” he challenged.

And she did. Together they managed to position the bed lengthwise in front of the hearth, a perfect distance from the flames, so as not to be too warm or too cold.

While she folded the blankets at the foot of the bed, allowing the heat to warm the bedding, he moved the chest to the end of the bed.

“We will need to be vigilant in tending the fire,” he said. “We don’t want any sparks to jump from the hearth to the bed.”

She plopped down on the bed with a grin. “You’re right. We best make sure no sparks ignite the bed.”

He shook his head. “You don’t even tempt me.”

“Pity,” she said with a pout.

He sat in the rocker, which remained by the hearth.

“Will you grant me a last wish before I die?”

“That depends on the wish,” he said.

She laughed and threw herself full length on the bed. “I want one night of making love with you, Highlander.”

“That’s one wish that will never be granted.”



That night they both kept their distance from each other in bed, not that Carissa could sleep, nor, due to limited space, could she toss or turn, though she felt the need. She was restless, with fitful thoughts.

Would Ronan really have fought her father for the slave? Not that he could have gotten past her father’s men, but still, the thought that he would have even considered it made her wonder. Love certainly had helped conquer his fears.

She recalled how frightened he had been when he was first captured, though she couldn’t blame him. Not able to see, wounded and worrying not only over his fate, but over his brother’s as well, gave him much to fear. But through that fear he had somehow found love, or had it found him?

Who would expect love to be found in a stable pen between a Highlander and a slave? An unlikely couple in an unlikely place, and yet they had found something rare in the harshest of conditions.

And she had no choice but to destroy it.

He would never understand why. At times she wondered herself. Had she made the right choice, but then hadn’t love made the choice for her? Just as much as he had wanted to rescue and protect Hope, she had wanted to protect him, and still did.

She carefully turned on her side so as not to disturb Ronan. He slept soundly, and all she wanted to do was look upon him. The firelight danced across his face, and she admired his features. There was a rugged handsomeness about him that she loved.

It had startled and touched her heart to discover that he had felt the same as she when they had first met. Just as he had known she was special, she had known the same of him. He was unlike any man she had met. He showed his fear, and yet he was brave. He was kind to her and ever so gentle, and she had never known either.

And there had been something about the way he touched her that had stilled her heart and stirred her soul. She had never known the desire for a man until Ronan, and she had never tasted love until Ronan.