Page 17 of Highland Seduction

“Ainsley, wake up, lass.”

But there was no break.

“Ainsley, ’tis me. Tor.”

Her eyes fluttered open. She was not lost in the woods. She was lying on the ground next to her husband. Never in her life had she been so glad to see the face of a MacRob.

“Do ye know where ye’re?” He hovered over her. She nodded.

“Ye’re scared, lass?”

Nay, not scared. Petrified. It was her worst nightmare come true, being here in these woods with darkness all around. This time, she could not hold back the tears. Her hands shook as they had that night, despite that it was summer and quite warm. But it was not coldness that made them do so. How had she thought she could do this?

“Come here,” he said, lying atop his bedroll and flipping her onto her side. Tor tucked her into his chest, his arm around her neck. She knew it was improper, for even though they were husband and wife, if God and the king willed it, they would not be so for much longer. But as her body pressed to him, Ainsley’s arm now wrapped around his waist, she could hear his heartbeat. Her tears dried and her breathing returned to normal.

“I was lost once, in the woods,” she whispered. “My parents had both died and Rhona yelled at me for skipping my lessons again. I ran, foolishly, into the trees.”

“I am sorry for yer parents, lass. The pain of such a loss is not one that ever truly goes away.”

He spoke from experience. Tor had lost a brother and a father too. His mother was still alive, but Ainsley knew little of her.

“’Twas cold, and so dark. I wandered through the night . . .” His hand ran up and down her back, more soothing to Ainsley than it should be. “Finally, after what seemed like days and endless torture from the cold, and the sounds, the sun rose. I thought for certain I would be found then, but still no one came.” Ainsley’s voice broke as she remembered thinking she would surely die there in the woods so close to Shaw Castle. Alone. Simply because she’d been angry at her sister for attempting to care for her. “As the sun rose higher in the sky, I heard it, finally. My name. ’Twas Broden come to rescue me.”

Her cheeks tingled once again, tears threatening, as she remembered the sound of her brother’s voice calling her name. It was the sweetest sound Ainsley had ever heard.

“Yet ye said naught, knowing we would stay in the woods this eve?”

“I’d prepared for this. Broden showed me how to use a dagger, to light a fire. How to track and how to survive. I thought . . .” She swallowed. “I thought I was prepared.”

Tor was quiet for some time. Ainsley contented herself by listening to the steady beat of his heart and enjoying the rhythmic circling of his hand on her back. If someone had told her days ago she would be here, in the woods, lying in the arms of a man who was her husband, a MacRob . . . she’d have sent them to the physician.

“Ye cannae ever adequately prepare to face yer biggest fears.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “Ye speak as if from experience.”

Tor looked down at her, though he never stopped moving his hand. “Aye, lass. I do.”

“What is it? What could a man such as ye possibly fear?” She could feel his strength beneath her head. Her hand, Ainsley realized now, was splayed on his stomach as if they’d not just met. “I’ve told ye mine,” she prompted.

He chuckled. “Because I woke ye from a nightmare. No’ by choice.”

“If I can guess, will ye say aye or nay?”

“Ye’d make this a game, lass? Do ye no’ think we should sleep instead?”

His good eye, the one not surrounded by purple and yellow hues, was no longer soft. No longer looking at her with pity. It was the same look as he’d given her by Rhona’s cottage and when they’d sat by the fire earlier. Except now, she was in his arms.

“I cannae sleep here, like this.”

“Ye can, and ye will.” It was not a request. Ainsley pretended to be acquiescent only because she willed it too, to remain here.

“Yer brother,” she whispered, venturing a guess.

He stilled. “I never thought,” he said after a long pause, “a loss could be as all-encompassing as my father’s. But with Adair . . .” His hand slowed, so Ainsley wiggled until Tor began to rub her once again. “He was meant to be Royce’s second-in-command.”

She understood. Tor had lost his brother, and his identity with it. “Ye don’t feel worthy of the title?” she guessed. Ainsley was still looking up at him, but at Tor’s scowl, she tucked her head back into his chest again. She liked the smiling Tor more than this one. He was more intimidating than even her brother. Likely because he smiled so often, Tor’s scowl startled her so.

“I’ve never hidden the fact. Even told my brother so, refusing the title at first. He was . . . no’ pleased.”