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“Katie, you’ve fallen asleep.”
A hand brushed the top of my head, and I looked up to see Collin standing in front of me, nearly swaying on his feet himself. I uncurled my legs from the chair and held my hands up to him, hoping he would take them.
Instead Collin reached down and lifted me into his arms.
Not so tired, then? I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt my own weariness fade as he carried me over to the bed.
“I ought to have carried you into the castle today, as this is to be our home, but I couldn’t exactly do that with Brann walking beside.” Collin frowned as he set me gently on the bed. “Concerning ourselves with evil spirits seems foolish, though, when we’ve the evil bodies themselves in residence.”
“Carrying a bride over the threshold keeps evil spirits at bay?” I knew the Scots were superstitious, but this seemed a bit of a stretch. “Just how is that supposed to work?”
Collin shrugged. “The spirits cannot follow where you haven’t stepped.”
“So... you’d need to carry me in and out of the castle every time?”
“No.” Collin rubbed his forehead, as if puzzled, then shrugged once more. “I never said it made sense, but it’s tradition.”
“And Highlanders are all about tradition.” Our wedding ceremony had been steeped in it. I patted the bed beside me. “Tell me more. What other marriage customs are there?”
Collin hesitated, then sat, but not close enough that we were touching. “We ought to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow is likely to feel longer than today.”
“Sleep might restore my body, but you restore my spirit.” I sucked in a breath for courage, then placed my hand over his on his leg. Likely no wife had ever been so bold and assuming. My stepmother would have been appalled at such behavior. I glanced at the painting over the fireplace and wondered what my real mother would have thought or done. What had she done to not only capture, but keep, the interest of an English soldier, my father?
“There are some things about our marriage you ought to know,” Collin said. “Not customs or traditions, but things pertaining only to us.”
“All right.” My gaze flickered to his serious one. Then I pulled my hand away and turned on the bed, so that I was facing him in close proximity. “What is it?”
Collin swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He wore a look of discomfort, from the lines creasing his forehead to his pursed lips, yet when he looked at me his eyes sought mine.
“On our wedding night, you were surprised at the room arrangements.”
“I was,” I said, equally surprised that he would bring that up. “I was also relieved.” The rejection I’d felt was still fresh in memory, but also was gratitude at his consideration. Over two weeks later, I was beginning to wonder if not having consummated our marriage meant something else, something more. Something bad. “It was considerate of you to get me my own room, given the trying day it had been and that we were literal strangers to one another.”
Collin nodded. “I’d hoped you’d see it that way, though I could tell I’d hurt your feelings.”
“I was far more relieved than offended.” I couldn’t exactly say the same now. While I might not feel ready for all the particulars of the marriage bed Anna had described, neither did I wish to have a marriage without affection. Alone, in the wilds of the Highlands, Collin and I had gradually discovered that affection. But since our arrival on Campbell land, he’d been pulling away, distancing himself from our trek toward intimacy. I both wanted and dreaded to know why.
“Last night, at Liusaidh’s, you asked if I would sleep near you.”
“And you said it was not wise.” Now we were getting somewhere.
“Aye.” Collin tugged at his collar as if it bothered him or the room had become too warm. “It is not a good idea for us to be too close— for me to sleep beside you, or to—” He paused, his mouth moving oddly, as if it did not wish to form the words.
“Yes?” I prodded, wanting to hear the why of his explanation more than what else it was that we should not be doing.
“Katie.” He angled his body toward me, then took both of my hands in his and held them firmly as he looked me squarely in the eye. “It is imperative that we don’t—” His chin dipped as he cleared his throat.
Is he blushing?
“I will not get you with child,” Collin blurted, then released my hands and scooted away.
“What— why?” It was not what I had expected him to say, and I felt my face redden at the boldness of his statement and my uncensored response. “Is it that you cannot?” I asked in a hushed tone. Was that even possible? I’d heard of couples being barren, but somehow I’d always thought that had more to do with the woman than the man.
“I dare not,” Collin clarified. “It is too dangerous.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly as my mind scrambled for comprehension. What is dangerous about making a baby? In spite of the things Anna had told me I couldn’t believe there was any real danger in that. Childbirth, on the other hand...
His mother. Of course. Collin had told me she’d died birthing him and Ian. I should have realized what that might mean for him, how he might feel.
Hope that Collin really did care for me, that he didn’t want to risk losing me, competed with the idea that he took his duty to protect me and my gift this seriously.
“I understand the dangers of childbirth.” Perhaps the risk was greater in the Highlands than in England. Nevertheless, I found the idea didn’t frighten me. Neither did the thought of having a baby— of being a mother— seem unappealing. Before I met Collin I had been convinced that a life dedicated to my art was far better than one as a wife and a mother. Now that argument didn’t hold. I had survived without paint and canvas, but I did not think my heart could survive without Collin.
How would it be to have a child created of our union? A son with his eyes, or a daughter with his dark hair. Something new and foreign took hold inside of me at these ideas. How precious such a child would be; how much I could love him or her. I had never before considered such possibilities, and no doubt my face betrayed the emotion skipping joyfully across my soul. A yearning I’d not even realized I had sprang to life— one of those moments in time where you are forever changed and cannot return back to the person you were before.
I chose my words carefully, knowing I was about to argue for something I still wasn’t entirely ready for. “It would seem that the decision whether I wish to risk carrying a child ought to be at least partially mine.”
“It is not the dangers of childbirth of which I spoke.” Collin still wouldn’t look at me. “Though certainly the risk is real, and indeed you ought to have a say.”
“Then I suggest that we pretend we did not marry for the sake of our clans, or prophecy, or any other such thing. Let us pretend that we began as my sister and her husband did, that our marriage came of our feelings for one another. And let us see what happens.”
“I do not have to pretend to care for you, Katie.” Collin turned to me at last and brought his hand up to touch my flaming cheek.
I tilted my face, leaning into his touch. “Nor I you.”
He bent his head close to mine, so our foreheads were together. “It is enough to hear that from you. To know.”
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly so. I craved Collin in a way I’d never dreamed of. I wanted to be with him always, every second of every day. I wanted him close, to be in his arms, free to love him as I pleased.
I remembered our near kiss at the river and the foolish decision I had made to push him away instead. I would make up for it now. I would show Collin that loving each other was worth the risk.
I pulled back a little, and Collin lifted his face so that our eyes met. I hoped he saw determination and desire and love reflected in mine. “I do want you to know,” I whispered as I leaned in. Our mouths brushed against each other lightly, and I found that wasn’t enough either. I raised my hands to hold his face and pulled him closer, this time allowing my lips to linger on his.
“Katie.” Collin’s eyes closed on a groan. “We mustn’t.”
I pretended not to have heard, keeping my mouth just barely against his. I sensed the inner war within him and saw that the part of him who wanted to kiss me was going to win. I was about to smile with certain victory when he deepened our kiss.
My lips parted, and my arms slid around the back of his neck, holding on tight, as if I’d climbed to the top of a mountain and would surely fall if I let go.
And oh, the height! My heart soared when his lips continued to caress mine, his hands cupping my face and sliding to tangle in my loose hair. I was out of breath but didn’t care. What better way to perish than being kissed by the man who consumed me?
Collin’s lips roved over mine possessively, as if he wished to know every part of them. I wanted him to know everything, and I gave it freely. I love you thrummed through my mind and body. I was in love with my husband, and this kiss all but proved he felt something for me— other than a desire to protect.
With a last, almost playful tug at my bottom lip, he pulled away— breathing as hard as I.
“Katie, we mustn’t—”
I silenced his second attempt at protest with my mouth, shifting my weight so I knelt on the bed beside him and grasped his shoulders. “Kiss me, Collin,” I ordered, my lips brushing his as I spoke. “Show me what you feel for me. Telling me isn’t enough.”
He groaned again but complied with my request, cradling my face in his hands once more and crushing his lips to mine. What could only be passion had burst to life between us and seemed bent on consuming us in its fire. The world fell away so that it was only Collin and I who existed. All else ceased to matter or even to be. I love you.
“I love you, Katie.” That he spoke the words first brought tears to my eyes. I stopped kissing him and threw my arms around him.
“I love you, Collin. Thank you for coming all the way to England for me, for bringing me home. I’m sorry for being difficult, then and now.”
He gathered me— bunched skirts, petticoats, and all— on his lap and held me there, my face pressed against his shirt and his heart pounding loudly beneath.
“I would go to the ends of the earth for you,” he said solemnly.
“Let us pray you do not have to,” I said.
“Aye.” He kissed my forehead.
Our breathing slowed gradually, the passion turning to something deeper. I simply wanted to hold him and be held. Forever.
“I have robbed you of sleep,” Collin said at last, as he looked toward the moonlight coming through the shuttered window. “Morning will be here before we know it.”
“Morning is hours away. I want to spend every one of those as we’ve spent the past few minutes.”
“We cannot.” This time he sounded as if he meant it. Collin lifted me from his lap. He stood and took several steps from the bed before turning around to face me.
I smiled at his serious expression, made less so by his mussed hair and collar. No doubt I showed signs of our tryst as well. I scooted to the edge of the bed, smoothed my skirts, and folded my hands demurely in my lap. “Was there something you wished to say?” Now that we had established that we both cared for one another and that I was aware of the dangers and willing to risk a child coming of our union, I could think of no argument he might make against our continuing on that path.
“Aye.” Collin clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing before the bed. “There is to be no more kissing, no more anything.”
“No—”
He held a hand up, silencing my protest. “I am most serious. The danger to your life—and to any child you might conceive is real. And while kissing does not a child create, it leads to more temptation than I can promise to withstand.”
This admission ought to have pleased me, but I could think only of what came before it. No more— anything. I was not surprised when Collin next announced that we could not share a bed. He said he would make a spot on the floor so no one need realize our arrangement.
“I shall realize it,” I said, forming the lips he had thoroughly kissed into a full pout.
“This is not what I want, Katie.” He ceased pacing and knelt before me. “It is what must be done to keep you safe.”
“You mean my gift safe,” I muttered.
“No.” He took my hands. “I mean you. That morning Ian found us together in your room at the inn, he assumed we had lain together as husband and wife. I fear he would kill you, should that circumstance ever occur.”
“Why? He witnessed our marriage, so surely he ought to have realized—”
“Ian believed the marriage was solely for the purpose of obtaining your dowry.” Collin gave my hands a light squeeze, then released me and stood once more. “I had to convince him of that, because were it to be anything different— were you ever to conceive and bear a child, that child would be in line to be a MacDonald laird.”
“And Ian could not stomach anyone with Campbell blood having that position.” I finally understood. No wonder Collin had been upset that morning, and no wonder I had hardly seen him in the two days that followed. He had been keeping Ian away from me, trying to convince him that all was not as it had seemed.
Exactly what Alistair had tried to tell me. All is not always as it seems.
“Ian already tried to kill you once,” Collin said. “I’d prefer not to give him another reason to try again.”
“Very well.” I admitted defeat— for now. But surely we would find a way around the Ian problem. Problems. All of them— sooner or later. Our life could not be spent thusly— near one another but not permitted to truly be husband and wife.
“Brann is equally dangerous,” Collin said. “Did you see the way he looked at you tonight when you said you were tired? He is already speculating about whether or not you might be with child.”
“We’ve been married but a fortnight.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. It seemed everyone was interested in the intimacies of our marriage.
“Time enough.” Collin gave me a wry grin. “Brann wouldn’t see you killed for it, but he’d want you— and the child— for himself more than ever. It is highly possible that any child of yours will carry your gift, and therefore be in danger as well. But even if that were not the case, Brann would know he could use the child to get what he wanted from you.”
I stood and followed Collin across the room. “Even if a child was conceived tonight—”
He turned sharply to stare at me. I willed my blush away and continued, eager to make my point. “Even then, it would be months before the baby was born. Brann won’t be here.”
“He will have to be more than away from this place for me to feel you are safe.” Collin paused near the door, pushing the bureau so that it was more squarely in front.
“What do you mean?” A sick feeling started in my stomach where only a minute or two before had been the most pleasant sensations.
“You know as well as I.” Collin faced me once more. “You don’t really believe that simply because your name is on the deed— if that even stands— that Brann will go peacefully? He’ll want a fight.”
“As do you.” I’d sensed it this morning, this change in Collin, before we’d even met Brann. This was about more than the present or our future. He was carrying the past with him, bent on exacting retribution.
“What did Brann do to you?” I folded my arms. “When you were both younger, when you lived here before, what happened?”
“Isn’t it enough that he strangled your mother?” Collin demanded.
I winced at the reminder. The anger I’d felt in him earlier had surfaced easily with the change of subject.
“Will killing Brann make anything better? Will it bring her back?” It felt like I was defending Brann— the last thing I wanted. Neither did I wish to see Collin consumed with hatred. This side of him was new— and frightening.
“It will ensure he never does the same to you.” Collin moved to stand before me. “Brann is the reason you were taken from me. He betrayed your grandfather and went to the English— told them I was here. Told your father you were with me. Brann took you from me, and he won’t do that again.”
“He can’t. He won’t. I’m grown now, and I won’t allow it.” I reached up, taking Collin’s face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “He has no power over us.”
“Not now he doesn’t.” Collin’s voice quieted. “But if there was a bairn involved...” He took my hands from his face but pulled me close, into the solid security of his embrace. “A parent will do a lot for a child— anything, really. Even give up his life if necessary.”
He was thinking of his father, who had willingly faced a firing squad to ensure that Collin lived. I squeezed my eyes shut, hurting for him, that he had such a terrible memory to live with.
“All right,” I conceded— truly conceded. I would do anything not to bring Collin more pain or worry. I would sleep alone, keep my desire for kisses to myself, forget the notion of having our child.
“Brann would know you would do anything to keep our child safe,” Collin said. “You would be at his complete mercy.”
As I could be already. There didn’t need to be a child for the threat to be real. I would do anything to protect my husband. If Brann discovered just how much I cared for Collin already we would both be vulnerable.