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She hoped this storm would not hinder their journey. She needed to find a cottage where she could live out the rest of her days alone.
Reeve added more logs to the steadily burning fire and stepped outside, returning several minutes later, shaking off a good coating of snow.
“The snow has worsened,” he said, returning his extra plaid to hang on the end of the mantel.
The news upset Tara though she kept her worries to herself. She feared sharing such confined quarters with him, especially for a prolonged period of time. Reeve did not understand the dire consequences of such action. And she wasn’t sure she could explain it so that it made sense, for it certainly had never made sense to her.
The only thing she was certain of was that the curse was real, and if she wasn’t careful, Reeve would die.
Chapter 3
Reeve watched Tara sleep, her fur-lined cloak wrapped around her curled-up body. She reminded him of the cats around the keep, the way they would curl tightly into a ball while they slept. But unlike the cats who curled next to each other for warmth, Tara lay alone.
He could not imagine never being touched. Whether it was a brotherly hug, his mother’s comforting touch, or even her occasional teasing smack, he knew he was loved. And he could not imagine never being able to hold a woman in his arms, kiss her, or be kissed. And he certainly could not fathom never coupling with a woman ever again.
He looked forward to the day that he would fall in love, like his brother Duncan had. They were inseparable, and that was how he would be with the woman he loved. He would crawl in bed with her every night, and whether they made love or not, he would hold her in his arms and protect her always.
Reeve wondered over the origin of the curse that had dubbed Tara the death bride. Was it a series of unfortunate circumstances? Or gossiping tongues that turned unfortunate events into a woman being cursed?
He intended to find out more about her. Why? He couldn’t precisely say. He didn’t feel sorry for her. She had courage enough to seek freedom for herself with the help of a stranger. And she had the strength to keep her distance from him for fear of causing him harm even if it had meant getting lost in a snowstorm.
She had fought his embrace as soon as he had her in his arms. And when she had calmed, and he had been able to tuck her more snugly against him, he found she fit, as if she had been made for him.
It had been an odd feeling. One he had never experienced before. That a flare of desire had risen up in him he couldn’t deny, but it had been more than that though he couldn’t exactly explain it. It had been much too strange a sensation, one that overwhelmed, grabbed at him, rattled him, and excited him.
Could he be treading a dangerous path? He presently had no time to pursue a woman, which was why he satisfied himself with willing women now and again. And he certainly had known noblewomen quite intimately. They had pursued him more vigorously than the peasant women he had known. But it had all been nothing more than a satisfying of needs. There had been no love involved, nor had it ever been implied.
Reeve yawned and stretched himself away from where he sat near the hearth. He continued stretching as he stood; his arms near touching the thatched ceiling. He hadn’t realized he had groaned along with his mighty stretch until he looked down and saw Tara’s eyes open wide with fear.
He fell to his knees beside her. “It’s all right. I was just having a stretch, that’s all.”
She shrunk away from him, pulling her cloak more tightly around her, and with a bit of a tremble to her voice, she said, “I thought you a demon rising from the depths of hell.”
Reeve smiled. “Now that is what I want my enemies to believe of me, but you are not my enemy. You are a friend, and a demon always protects his friends.”
He was pleased when she giggled.
“You are no demon. You are a good man.”
“Shhh,” he said with a finger to his lips and a quick glance around the room. “That’s a secret best kept between you and me.”
“I will keep your secret,” she whispered.
His smile faded, and he so badly wanted to reach out and touch her, just a gentle friendly touch to let her know someone cared. But he knew she would not receive it well, so he tried to do the same with words.
“And I will keep any secret you, my friend, wish to share,” he said.
When a glint of a tear appeared in the corner of her eye, he wanted to take hold of her and cradle her in his arms. But again he knew it was not a wise thing to do.
“Thank you,” she said in a bare whisper.
She closed her eyes after that, and he wrapped his extra plaid around himself and settled a few feet behind her on the floor to sleep. As tired as he was, sleep eluded him for too long, his mind rushing with chaotic thoughts.
He had decided at the onset that he would take Tara home with him. She needed a place where people would treat her kindly, and he believed his village would accept her, curse and all. But after hearing her story about the cook, he wondered if her presence would cause problems. Wagging tongues could do a rash of harm, and if anyone knew ...
Why did anyone have to know?
The question rang loudly through his thoughts. No one need know her history. He need only tell them that he had rescued her from robbers, and she in turn asked for his help. He could concoct a good tale that would have the village wanting to protect her. And perhaps with the curse ignored and fear expelled, Tara would be able to have friends and perhaps find love.
