Page 69 of My Highland Bride

Following the trail along the riverbank, I mark enough time that I consider heading back. And then I hear it.

The crack of a twig sounds behind me. Turning, I see someone back where I’d first left the woods. As I make my way toward the figure, my hand on the hilt of the sword at my side, it becomes quickly apparent that the someone is a woman.

With flaming red hair.

Wearing men’s breeches.

I break into a run as I see Reyne crouch down beside the water. Calling out her name, my heart thudding at the sight before me, I run faster. As if in a dream, she does not turn toward me. Instead, she reaches out, her hand dipping into the water.

“Reyne,” I call out again. She knows I approach, anyone trained to hunt as she has been would hear much quieter sounds, but still does not look my way. “Reyne.”

What is she doing?

Finally, I reach my wife and see, for the first time, she is crying as she slips her fingers into the water. But not in a terrified way. It is sadness that grips her now, and a love that engulfs me. An emotion so new I’d not even known the truth of it until I saw her kneeling by that water, facing her fears so bravely.

Without a word, I drop down by her side, seeing the bow and quiver for the first time. She followed me out here. To hunt. To show me she is capable.

And I am naught but your wife, so you may tell me what to do. Just like my father.

Holding her as she releases the tears that come after a person has done something terrifying, like approach a stream alone for the first time after having seen their sister carried away by the current, I murmur words she likely does not hear.

“I am sorry, Reyne,” I say, over and over again.

For her sister’s loss. For lying to her those first few days. For treating her differently than Cettina. For thinking not making love to her would do anything more than punish us both.

“I am so very sorry.”

We stand together, and I wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“I love you, Reyne.” It is so easy to say the words when they are true.

I pull her away so that I may look at her face.

“And am glad you are here, even though I do worry for your safety. And I’m so proud of you. How scared you must have been to kneel down there as you did.”

Wetness still glistens in her eyes.

“I grabbed my bow,” she says, “and followed you. I did not realize . . .” She looks down at the stream as I would toward my enemy. “I did not realize it was here.”

And then her head snaps back.

“Did you say . . . ?”

It was as if she’d listened to the words but only heard them now.

I nod.

“I love you,” I say again so she need not doubt herself.

Her lips part, and though I think, hope, she will say it back, Reyne does something more potent. She stands on her toes and reaches her lips to mine. The touch is soft, hesitant, at first. But when I deepen the kiss, taking her in my arms, all sweetness flees as surely as the deer we hunted.

Too quickly, I am lost in her. My hands cup her buttocks, so easily done in her breeches. It takes no time for me to grow hard, my need for her overwhelming. Even so, I made a vow to my wife, and my hands remain where they are.

Until she presses me toward her, lifting my long surcoat up from the back. I step away to assist her, and am lost when Reyne smiles and nods.

Lowering us both to the grass, I kiss her with everything that I am. Our tongues swirl together, as one, and I mourn that our first time together will not be as I had hoped. Night is coming, and while I’d strip my wife of every item of clothing she wears, keeping her safe this night is more important.

Not willing to wait another moment, I remove my boots quickly as Reyne sits up and does the same. I think to take off at least my hose but the look she gives me does not allow it. Instead, I kneel down beside her and take advantage of her peculiar women’s clothing. As my lips cover hers once again, I work open her braies and dip my fingers inside, anxious for her to know a new kind of pleasure.