Chapter Nine

Dorie’s chest and throat burned and her head throbbed, but she was happy to be alive. She would see that Rascal received a juicy reward for his heroism, for she might have succumbed to the smoke and not had the chance to escape if not for her loyal friend waking her.

Tears sprang to her eyes when she thought of the cottage she’d lost. It hadn’t been grand, but she’d made it her home. It was safe, and most important, she’d been able to go outside whenever she wished.

She tugged at the soiled shift she still wore and pointed in the direction of the cottage with a frown.

“You lost your new dresses,” Mari said, patting her on the shoulder. “Not to worry. We’ll get to work on making you new ones tomorrow.”

“And you can wear one of mine until we get one ready. It will be a bit short, but it will do in a pinch.” Kenna offered a smile and Dorie squeezed their hands in thanks. She’d never had friends before, but she had to think these two ladies were the very best possible.

“For now, we must all go to our beds and get some rest. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow, and it will be here in just a few hours.”

Nodding, Dorie slid off the table and stumbled when the large hall spun around her. Bryce was there in an instant, putting an arm around her waist to steady her.

“Up you go,” he said, scooping her into his arms.

She didn’t know where she would sleep. She assumed she would stay on one of the benches in the hall. Some of the soldiers slept there. She didn’t mind. The room was large enough she wouldn’t feel trapped.

But instead Bryce carried her upstairs, stopping at the very end of the corridor. He set her down in front of the last door and opened it. His chamber. “You’ll stay with me until we come up with something else.”

She’d been in his room for a few days after she was poisoned but hadn’t noticed how small it was. Perhaps it was the fire that had her panicked. She still felt like she was suffocating.

She whimpered when he closed the door after Rascal came in. The large dog and man seemed to make the room shrink even more. The walls were coming closer. She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, desperate for breath. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She couldn’t survive in there.

“We can prop the door open, if it helps,” her husband offered, and she wanted to hug him for his kindness. She didn’t know how he always seemed to know what she was thinking, even when she didn’t speak the words.

So many times since she married him, she’d wanted to talk with him, but she was still keenly aware of the dangers of saying the wrong thing. Of spilling secrets and putting those she loved at risk. Silence was better. Silence was safe.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to share the bed. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” he reassured her. “I’ll not touch ye.”

She hoped she hid her disappointment. While she wasn’t up for touching tonight, filthy and sore as she was, she might welcome it another time.

She simply nodded and looked around the room.

The bed—bigger than the one at the cottage—would hold them both without risk of touching.

He poured water for her to wash up and then offered her a clean shirt. He turned around as she changed into it. She felt so much better without the layer of smoke and ash covering her.

Bryce settled in on the side of the bed facing the door. She had to climb in from the bottom of the bed since her side was against the wall. She frowned at the closed-in feeling as she slid under the covers.

When Rascal jumped up on the foot of the bed, cutting off her only escape, she was glad when Bryce shooed him off.

“You may be the hero, but you stay on the floor.” He turned to her. “Did he sleep with you at the cottage?”

Not sure if the truth would make him angry, she shrugged. After all, she hadn’t allowed it. It had just happened. Bryce didn’t press for more details.

His breath evened out in sleep almost immediately. She envied the way he was able to let the worries of the day drift off so quickly. Being in a strange place plus the excitement of the day had her tossing and turning.

She noticed he wasn’t the least bit bothered by her movements, so she placed a hand on his arm, testing her theory. When he didn’t wake, she slid her hand across his chest and pressed her body up against his. If anything, he seemed to relax deeper into sleep.

She knew she shouldn’t take advantage of his slumber, but being close to him like this made it easier for her to calm down, and soon she was dreaming of her husband.

…

Despite his attempt to be quiet, Dorie woke when Bryce slipped out of bed the next morning and wrapped his kilt around his waist. Rascal stirred as well, hurried to the door, and turned his head as if asking permission to go out despite it being open. Bryce waved him out and thought to follow behind immediately but decided he should offer his wife a greeting of some sort.

He was out of practice with such things. He’d woken hard and aching with his body wrapped around hers. When he’d pressed his hips closer, she’d made a sound of pleasure and pushed back against him.

It wasn’t until that moment he’d recalled who was in bed with him and froze.

“Good morning,” he mumbled as she slid off the bed and offered him a shy smile.

She probably didn’t realize how the sun at her back filtered through his thin shirt, highlighting the curves of her body. She probably didn’t notice that, because of her height, his shirt fell just above her knee, giving him a glance at her thigh. Nor did she know the chill of the floor caused her nipples to harden and push at the fabric in subtle invitation. And she definitely didn’t realize how standing there with her bed-mussed hair and soft smile made his body hard and his kilt tent.

She was innocent.

While it was his right to change that, he wouldn’t touch her. Well, he wouldn’t touch her again.

“I need to go,” he offered before rushing out of the room to escape. Innocent or not, she was tempting as hell. It had been too long since he’d taken a woman to his bed.

Even then, it had been a quick thing. Lust and need. He’d not fully sated his desires with a woman since his wife was alive. He enjoyed the act itself, but he longed for the other things that came with bedding a woman he thoroughly desired. The laughter and play that went with it. The thrill of discovering something new she liked and doing it over and over until she was pleased and gasping.

That feeling of utter contentment when he could lie next to her running his fingers through her hair and listening to her breathe.

He could have relations. He could slake his lust. He could tend to his physical needs. But he’d never have the connection that came with making love to someone who truly belonged with him.

“How do you fare?” Lach asked as he took a seat at the head table.

“I’m fine.”

Nay. He wasn’t fine. He was never fine. And even less so today when he was restless and needy. Despite having slept better than he had in years, he was irritable.

They turned the discussion to clan affairs. Specifically, the issue regarding the McCurdys on their land trying to kill his wife.

Bryce had just finished his meal when Dorie entered the hall looking as disheveled as the day she’d arrived at Dunardry. Her hair was a mess of tangles and the ill-fitting dress she’d found was both too short and too big. It didn’t help her appearance when her four-legged beast sidled up next to her looking like a hellhound ready to fetch someone’s soul for his mistress. And like on that first day, she had no shoes.

“The poor girl,” Mari said from his side. “My dresses were much too short for her. But even Kenna’s don’t fit properly. She has nothing. Not even a way to brush her hair.”

Kenna let out a sigh. “I don’t have a spare brush set, but I’ll see that she gets one. Until then—”

“I can take care of my own wife,” Bryce snapped, cutting off Kenna’s offer of assistance. He didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did.

Kenna and Mari weren’t trying to make him feel guilty—at least not this time—but he felt the shame nonetheless.

“I appreciate you helping her with a dress. I’ll see to her shoes and the rest today,” he offered, feeling bad for snapping at them when they were only trying to help.

“You’ve done a poor job of it so far,” Cam said with a brow raised. He didn’t even have the grace to lower it when Bryce glared at him. The big oaf wasn’t threatened by his smaller cousins.

Leaving the hall, Bryce went out to find his wife something decent to wear.

He would take care of her, and he would damn well keep her safe, too.

…

It was clear to Dorie by the way Bryce ran out of the chamber that morning he hadn’t liked sharing a bed with her. And now he had also raced out of the hall the minute she arrived to break her fast.

Perhaps he didn’t want to have to see her, ever.

She couldn’t blame him. She was certain she looked a fright. She’d used her fingers to smooth her hair, but she could feel it sticking out. Some of the singed parts were impossible to tame. She didn’t even have a hair ribbon to secure it as she normally did.

Kenna waved for her to join them, so Dorie made her way to the front table. Rascal loped along beside her. At least he didn’t mind the way she looked. She couldn’t be sure if the stares from the other people in the hall were due to her state of disorder or because she’d run her husband from the room. It didn’t matter. She was getting used to the looks and whispers. She sat and smiled at the serving girl who brought her food.

“As soon as we’ve eaten, we’ll get to work straight away on some new dresses for you,” Kenna said.

“I’m quite good with hair,” Mari suggested. “I can trim off the scorched bits if you like.”

Dorie gave them a grateful smile and touched each of them. As a girl, she’d often hoped a prince would come rescue her from her prison, like in the ballads the bards sang. But she now realized that a few good friends would do just as well.

“I believe Bryce has gone to the village to get you shoes and a gift.”

“Kenna! Why must you spoil the surprise?” Mari gave Kenna a sisterly shove.

“I’m sorry.” Kenna looked embarrassed but her excitement returned. “I canna help it. When I know something that will make someone happy, it just spills out.”

A gift? For her? Why would Bryce get her a gift after she’d burned down his cottage? Although for the life of her, she couldn’t remember leaving anything out that might have caused the blaze.

As they spent the day making new dresses, Dorie was often distracted with thoughts of Bryce showing up with some trinket of affection.

She touched her lips, remembering the sizzle she’d felt when he’d kissed her. She also recalled the warmth of his body against hers this morning. The hard muscles in his arms as they wrapped around her. His hand so close to her breast she’d shifted, hoping he’d touch her there.

She would gladly give up any possession for another touch.

It was ridiculous she should want him so much. Especially after he’d made it clear he couldn’t care for her in that way. But something caused her to yearn for her husband.

Something she didn’t quite understand.