Rhian clearly did not know what to say.
“Since then, he has continued to stay the nights wi’ me.”
“Och, Saerla! The warriors are saying that he has taken ye even as he might take all our lands. That he has raped ye, and by doing so rapes all MacBeith.”
“That is no’ true. Wha’ I give to him, I give freely.” Leave to touch her with those calloused hands that nevertheless remained ever gentle. Leave to run his hot mouth everywhere over her skin. To fly with her over the glen and into the light.
“Men, being men, want it to be so. They are frustrated that the conflict has gone on so long. That Moira, a mere woman, has stood against Rory MacLeod. That Rory has no’ kept his promise and conquered the glen.”
“I canna help what others think.”
Rhian’s eyes glittered. “Wha’ about what ye think? Ye feared him, Saerla. He was a boogeyman. The greatest monster in our world. Ye saw wha’ he did to Farlan. How he treats Leith, when he argues for peace. How could ye place yoursel’ in the destroyer’s hands?”
A fair and goodly question. Before being captured and brought here, Saerla had received a Vision back at MacBeith, one so terrible she’d been willing to share it with no one. She’d Seen herself in Rory MacLeod’s hands. Being, as she’d believed then, aye, forced by him.Ye will be mine,he’d said.
It had not been what she imagined, the truth behind that Vision. That, she now realized in full. The Vision she’d feared so terribly had turned into something else entirely.
Rhian leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “Listen to me, Saerla. I understand the power o’ attraction. O’ passion. I ha’ experienced it wi’ Leith, and aye, ’tis a force that can sweepa woman awa’. But Leith—Leith is no’ Rory MacLeod. He is the man I love.”
“Aye, so,” Saerla murmured, beginning to feel distraught. Would her own sister deride her for surrendering to carnal pleasures? Could she bear that?
“For me to give mysel’ to Leith,” Rhian hurried on, “I maun trust him. Trust him wi’ all my heart, and all I am.”
Saerla bowed her head.
“My lass, my dear, ye canna possibly trust Rory. And if ye canna trust him, ye can never love him!”
“There is love,” Saerla said raggedly, “and there is need.”
“Aye, so. But, Saerla, ye ha’ never been a woman who gave heed or notice to things o’ the flesh. Your calling has always been to higher matters.”
“So because the gods speak to me, I am never to have aught else? I am never to be a woman?”
“Aye, lass, to be sure. But no’, by God, Rory MacLeod’s woman!”
Saerla wanted to weep. Was she not, as she’d begun to believe, meant to be here? Had the Vision she’d Seen and feared not preordained it? Was she to deny what had taken root within her?
Her sister—one of the people she loved most in the world—condemned her for those feelings. She could see that in Rhian’s eyes.
“Saerla, ha’ ye thought where this will end?”
Nay, she had not.
“Do ye no’ want to go home?”
She did, aye, more than anything. More thanalmostanything.
“Wha’ if ye go home wi’ his babe in yer belly?”
That made Saerla stare.
Rhian’s lips twisted. She put a hand to her own stomach. “Believe me, it can happen. And do no’ tell me ye ha’ no thought o’ it.”
She had not. Not in so many words.
“Ye be a right clever lass, Saerla. Ye maun have considered—”
When he touches me, I can think of little else. When he is inside me, there is no past or future.
