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The young soldier looked quickly to the other two soldiers, his hand already beginning to draw his sword from its sheath.
“MacAlpin warriors are superior swordsmen,” warned the older soldier.
“I heard tell that one took ten soldiers down on his own, without an ounce of help,” the other said.
“That would be my brother Reeve,” Trey said proudly.
“And another brother survived wounds that would have killed most men,” the older soldier said. “Some say he cannot die.”
Trey nodded. “That would be me.”
The two soldiers took a step back and the young one spat at them. “Cowards you are. Death claims everyone, and it will claim him today.”
Bliss raised her voice before the soldier took a step. “Death will claim someone this day, but it will not be my husband.”
Her prediction caused all color to drain from the young soldier’s face and his sword slipped down into its sheath as his hand drifted off the hilt.
“Now be gone, and take my message to your king,” Trey commanded.
They obeyed, disappearing into the woods without a backward glance.
Bliss smiled when Trey turned his attention on her. “It is good to see you have healed well.”
“With your help,wife,” he said smiling.
Her heart gave a catch, as if his smile had stolen a beat. Certainly, fate had had a hand in his defined features, making him the handsomest of men. But it was his eyes she found the most compelling, for she could not be sure if they were blue or green. They seemed to change from one color to the other right before her eyes.
She shook her head. With more important matters at hand, she had no time to be musing over her husband’s good looks.
Husband.
How did she explain this to him?
First she had to take a step away from him. His arm around her waist felt too intimate. It made her want to step closer to him, rest her body to his, run her hand across his chest, feel his heart beating as rapidly as hers, and wonder if love could truly come from their strange joining.
Bliss slowly slipped out of his embrace, and she thought she detected his reluctance to let her go. “I should explain—”
“Not necessary. You followed your instincts, and it worked well.”
“Yes, though—”
“I am honored to be your husband, if only for a short time.”
“And I am honored to be your wife.”
“We still pretend then?” Trey asked, stepping closer.
Her thoughts turned foggy. She had spent time healing him and had not felt a tug, a pull, a tingle of interest in him. But then she had no visions of him as her future husband. She couldn’t help but wonder why now it was different? Why had fate chosen this moment and this way to bring them together?
She sighed and rested her hand on his arm.
He placed his hand over hers, his warmth not only running through her but his strength. He was a man of great courage and conviction and a man who loved deeply—and a man who was still recovering from the loss of a love.
Whatever was fate thinking sending her a man who still loved another woman?
“You are upset,” Trey said. “You tremble.”
She stared at him a moment, for she did tremble, but inwardly, and he had felt it. “I must explain.”
