The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(69)

“You believe I love your son?”

“At times I catch a glimpse of it in your eyes,” Addie said, “though you try hard to hide it. Tell me how you fell in love with my son.”

With that Addie began to help Carissa undress, and Carissa didn’t protest. She felt the need to tell this woman, the mother of the man she loved, just how she had so unexpectedly fallen in love with her enemy.

“He was hurt and frightened,” Carissa began, “and he reached out to me, not knowing who I was, not judging me, simply needing someone to hold on to. I empathized with him since I often felt the same myself. From there it was easy to pretend I wasn’t Mordrac’s daughter, and the more I got to know Ronan, the more my heart went out to him.

“I was accustomed to demanding, domineering men; never had I known a man to reach out to me in need, to be vulnerable and yet so brave.” Carissa shook her head. “It sounds strange that a needy man could be brave.”

“As I said, what we see isn’t always what is.”

“Ronan is like no man I have ever known,” Carissa admitted. “He may have hated Carissa and wanted her dead. But when he did finally capture her, his intentions were to see that she was treated fairly and presented before his laird for judgment. Unlike my father, whose judgment often came swiftly at the end of a sword.”

Their conversation twisted and turned in many directions, and it wasn’t near to ending by the time Carissa stepped from the bath. But after a preponderance of yawns, Addie insisted she nap.

Carissa didn’t argue; she felt tired down to her very bones, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Addie tucked her in Ronan’s bed, and while Carissa knew she should have protested and returned to her appointed cottage, she was simply too tired. She would nap and be gone before Ronan, or—heaven forbid—Cavan, knew she rested in this bed.

The last thing she heard as her eyes closed and sleep claimed her was the click of the closing door as Addie took her leave.



Ronan couldn’t believe that he had three nephews and a niece. The little fellow, the one twin who was his namesake, had a similar nature to his own. And the one named for Ronan’s father, Tavish, was as temperamental as his namesake. And at two years old, the little lads appeared inseparable, one always looking to see where the other was and both enamored of their mother.

Blythe, Artair and Zia’s daughter, was a little beauty, with a sweet smile that could charm the coldest heart. Over a year old, though with the confidence of one much older, she eagerly climbed onto his lap and into his arms when he reached down for her, and her vibrant green eyes startled, since it seemed that she could see right inside you.

Then there was Roark, Lachlan and Alyce’s son, who was yet to turn one, though he made himself known with his broad smile that so reminded Ronan of Lachlan. However, he seemed to have his mother’s strategic mind, for his eyes followed everyone, he knew what each was up to, waving frantically at the twins when one crept up on the other, and he was alert to when someone left the room.

This was his new family, and he hoped with all his heart that Carissa carried his child and that their child could not only join this happy clan but unite enemies.

Ronan was as disappointed as the children when naptime was declared by the mothers, though when his mother advised him that Carissa was presently napping peacefully in his room after a soothing bath, he hastily took his leave.

While he could have joined his brothers, who were in Cavan’s solar discussing clan matters, he much preferred to join Carissa. He was well aware of Cavan’s warning about keeping his distance from Carissa, but he was only going to check on her, or so he told himself.

The door opened with a creak, and he winced, not wanting to wake her. He knew she must be tired, having woken before dawn, then having to deal with his brother and him. It was good she rested, though damned if he didn’t want to rest alongside her.

He took careful steps over to the bed. She was lying naked on her side beneath the covers, one slim leg resting on top of the blanket, her arm exposed as well, and her lovely breast peeking out from the covers.

Naturally, he reacted as any man in love would. He grew hard as a rock.

He warned himself to take his leave, get out of there right away, run if he had to, but get his legs moving. His feet refused to budge. It was as if he were stuck to the floor and his glance stuck on her.

He ached to make love to her once again. One time just was not enough, he wanted more. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, love her, lose himself in her and hear her moan with the pleasure he brought her.

His passion spiked even more, and he moaned in discomfort and had to fight to keep himself from stripping naked and rushing to her side. One taste of her had him starving for more, and he was having a difficult time denying himself and her, for he doubted she would turn him down.