Page 19 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Niamh came awake with a scream that hurt her throat, her chest heaving with sobs of anguish. “Nay, nay…”

Light flared, and she flinched back, but it was only Alistair lighting the candle from the brazier. Candle lit, he hurried to her side and scooped her close, enfolding her in the warmth of his arms.

At any other time, she might have been embarrassed, to be leaning against a man’s naked chest. Now, all she could do was huddle against him, sobbing as she curled into his warmth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dr-dr-dream. I was... alone. And I co-co-couldnae move. Couldnae get away. And... the storm…” Niamh just barely managed to choke the words out before her voice cracked and another sob wracked her frame.

“Och, sounds like a bad dream.” Alistair’s low voice was soothing. He hesitated a moment, then, to her surprise, undid the ropes. “I didnae mean tae give ye such a nightmare. If I’d kent it would upset ye so, I wouldnae have left ye bound.”

It wasn’t the binding that gave her nightmares, but she didn’t say so. Already her mind was calming at the realization that there was no lightning, no thunder, no storm. She wasn’t alone, nor giving birth. There was nothing to be afraid of.

She swallowed. “I dinnae want tae be alone.” Her throat ached.

“Ye’re nae. I’m right here, and I’ll nae be leaving ye fer the night.” The words were accompanied by a soft, soothing stroke of his large hand across her arm, then her back. Then his fingers carded through her hair. “Ye’re nae alone, and ye’re safe, and ye can run if ye want. Mind, I’ll catch ye, but ye’re safe and nae trapped.”

The words were calming, the tone strong and sure and supportive. The hands around her were warm and firm, their grip steady. Niamh relaxed against Alistair’s chest, soaking in his warmth and the sheer relief of not being abandoned. The terror drained out of her, leaving lassitude in its wake, and she felt her eyelids drooping.

“Niamh?” She heard him calling her name, but she was too weary to respond, already sinking back toward sleep. “Niamh?”

A pause, and then he shifted, and she felt him slide away from her. Anxiousness welled up inside her, and she clutched at his hand. “Dinnae leave.”

“I willnae.” She felt him move, laying her back on the bed and pulling the blankets up over her shoulders, but he never let go of her hand. Not even when she felt him sink to the ground, presumably returning to his makeshift bed.

There was someone there for her. She wasn’t alone in the dark.

Niamh sighed, and let sleep claim her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The journey to the heart of Clan MacDuff, where he resided, was just as long as Alistair had expected it to be. Between the unpredictable weather and the slow pace, they were forced to keep with four horses to look after, their pace was confined to one that was perhaps a quarter of the speed he could make alone, and that was without counting stops to relieve themselves or eat something. Under normal circumstances, Alistair would have chafed at the delay.

However, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be making a journey and trying to get to know his betrothed at the same time. When he considered it in that light, he was almost grateful for the slow speeds at which they traveled.

After that first night, things changed. He no longer considered binding Niamh during their travels, though they still shared a horse. She, in turn, seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was better not to fight so much. At the very least, she was no longer trying to run away every time they stopped, nor did she constantly snarl and snap at him.

It wasn’t perfect. She was still furious with the deception he and her father had attempted to trick her with. She didn’t trust him, and it showed in the way she watched him while they rode. When she spoke to him, she used as few words as possible, and her tone was cool and distant. At least, that was true during the days.

The nights, however, were a different story. Whether they claimed one room or two, they always found themselves meeting at some point. He would wake, uncertain, thinking he had heard her cry out, and go to make sure her sleep was untroubled. Or she would come creeping into his room, seeking warmth and companionship in the dark.

Often as not, they wound up sharing quarters, with one of them on the floor in the others’ room. However, neither one of them were willing to speak of it, and so they didn’t. Whoever had crossed the threshold would leave without a word, to dress and prepare for the journey, then they would eat, have the horses saddled, and leave.

He couldn’t deny he was curious. Curious about why she feared marriage. Curious why she had such violent nightmares. However, he knew that he couldn’t ask. Not when even the thought of talking about his own past made his stomach churn like he’d drunk a draught of sour beer.

She didn’t ask any questions of him either, and he found himself relieved about that. He had no desire to lie to her any more than he had.

Instead, the days passed in mostly silence, broken by the occasional short sentence or two, and the nights in unspoken comfort in each other’s presence. By the time they reached the river ford that would allow them to cross into the Highlands, a sort of unspoken truce existed between them, one that he was loathe to break.

At the river, Alistair took the horses across first. The river was running slightly fast from the autumn rains, and it was safer to cross on foot than risk something spooking the horses midway across. Alistair’s larger frame and greater strength made it easier for him to control the animals as they made their way across ford.

He led the last of the horses to land, then turned to find Niamh already halfway across, picking her way lightly across the steppingstones. The stones were within easy stepping distance for him, but for her, they required comically large steps, more akin to small hops. “Best be care-”

Her right foot slipped, and Niamh plunged into the water with a splash. She came up spluttering, and Alistair almost choked on his laughter. “-ful, lass.”

“Lout. ‘Tisnae funny.” She scowled at him, and at the smile he was making very little effort to hide.

“I ken why ye think so, lass, but I hope ye’ll forgive me fer finding humor in it just the same.”