Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D arren froze as Alayne’s lips pressed against his cheek, followed by the brush of warm air as she whispered her thanks in his ear.

It wasn’t the first time a woman had kissed him like that, nor whispered such words to him, and yet, the sensation of Alayne, so close, and for once actually welcoming his touch, made him feel like a youth with his first woman. His nerves tingled, and familiar tightness flooded his loins.

He wanted to kiss her, to see if he could evoke the same heat in her that she was producing in him, but he held himself back with iron control. Alayne was overwrought, her thinking clouded by the fright she’d received. To do anything more than comfort her and bring her back to MacLean Keep would be taking advantage of her, and he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing.

Alayne might be his wife, but he’d not push for more than she was ready to give. Besides, giving in to his desire now would only destroy the fragile relationship between them. She’d hate him for that as surely as she would have if he’d forced her that first night.

He took a deep breath and raised his hands to take her arm in a gentle grip. She was shivering, from cold and lingering fear both, he suspected. He’d seen how a bad fright could shake the nerves, though he’d not have guessed heights was something that might frighten her.

He wondered if it was a natural fear, such as the kinds children sometimes developed and never grew out of, or if something had happened to make her so terrified. He also wondered if there was a way to help her get over it, and if she would let him try.

But those were considerations for another time. For now, it was best to get her back to the keep, and into the hot bath she’d requested hours ago. A good warm soak and a solid meal, along with some rest, ought to make her feel more herself again. Perhaps when she’d regained her calm, they could discuss what had happened, along with the reasons he’d sought her out in the first place.

She was shaking too much to sit on her own horse. Darren guided her to lean against his mount, while he went to untether hers and bring it back. Once the lead rein was fixed to his saddle, he boosted Alayne up, then swung himself up behind her. It was a bit uncomfortable, especially with the way his manhood ached at her closeness, but fortunately, she was too dazed to notice.

Darren settled himself as comfortably as he could manage, and as far back on the saddle as was safe. Then he looped an arm around her to keep her safe and set the horse to a leisurely walk back to MacLean Keep.

Alayne didn’t say much during the journey. The shivering slowly eased off, replaced by a sort of stiff-backed wariness. A fit of the vapors, or something akin to battle-shock, perhaps. Or maybe she was simply frightened by being off the ground, even if she was seated firmly on the back of a horse, and safely held in place.

Then again, how likely was it that she felt safe in his arms? It was one thing, he knew, to cling to him when he was her only means of escaping her plight. But now, with the aftermath of fear and his arms around her in a different manner?

Uncertain of whether or not it would help, Darren transferred the reins to one hand, then slid the other one between their bodies and began to rub soothing motions across her back and shoulders. Keegan had sometimes been soothed by such gestures, after an injury or a nightmare or one of their father’s drunken rages. He didn’t think it would hurt.

It was an awkward position at best, and did nothing to decrease the discomfort of his stirring manhood, but it was all he could think of to do.

Alayne’s hands were still shaking as Darren helped her up into the saddle, and though she didn’t want to admit it, she was grateful for his solid presence at her back and his arm around her waist as they rode back to MacLean Keep. After such a scare, even sitting on the horse felt uncomfortably high.

Still, the pace was easy, and her seat was secure, and Alayne gradually began to relax as the fear left her. Unfortunately, the lack of terror clouding her mind only made her think of other things. Things like the fact that she had kissed Darren MacLean.

Yes, he had helped her, and it was a gesture of gratitude. She’d reluctantly begun to admit to herself that she didn’t quite hate him as intensely as she once had.

The problem lay in the face that some small part of her had enjoyed the feel of his weather-roughened skin under her lips, and liked the taste of sweat and tree sap that touched her mouth. Some treacherous part of her had enjoyed the feel of his thick, tousled hair under her fingers, and the pressure of his muscular body against hers for that brief span of time.

And now that the terror was wearing off, she was acutely aware of how close he was behind her. His warmth and the masculine scent of him - leather and sweat and wood-scent - surrounded her. She felt every shift of the muscles in the arm around her waist, and the feeling was oddly - distracting. It made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t recall experiencing before.

It also made her feel warm and restless, though she couldn’t say why. She found herself wanting to scoot further away, but also to lean back into him and press her face into his broad shoulder, all at the same time. It was confusing, and a little frightening.

Then his hands moved, one taking up the second part of the reins, while the other arm dropped back. Seconds later, she felt his hands roving softly up and down her spine, and across her shoulders in slow, gentle arcs.

It felt like the way Donall had soothed her a few times as a child, but also undeniably different. Donall’s touch was calming, gentle, the type of action that had often put her to sleep, when she was feeling unwell or had awoken from a bad dream.

Darren’s touch made her feel as if embers were coming to life under her skin, a slow blaze of warmth that built and seemed to leisurely coil inward. His touch made her heart beat faster and gave her the desire to arch her back into him, like a cat might respond to a hand stroking its fur.

It was enjoyable, but also embarrassing, and confusing. She wasn’t sure how to react. Part of her wanted to ask him to stop, but it was drowned out by the parts of her that wanted more. More warmth, more tenderness. More of him .

By the time they rode into the courtyard and he helped her dismount, she felt as if she’d swallowed a jar of butterflies, and her hands were shaking again for an entirely different reason. She wanted to run away, but at the same time, she didn’t.

Darren led her inside, up the stairs toward their quarters. He seemed to realize that she was troubled. He also seemed determined to be gentle, and that confused her more.

Finally, it was too much. Alayne pulled herself free of the arm around her shoulders. “I can walk on me own, thank ye. If ye dinnae mind, I’d like tae have a hot bath and a meal in private taenight.”

Before he could answer, Alayne hurried away, head down so he couldn’t see her burning cheeks, or the conflicted expression she knew adorned her face. She hurried to their chambers and shut the door fast behind her, wishing she could lock it as well.

There was a bath already waiting, likely the one she’d told him to arrange for her earlier that day. It was still steaming too, as if Darren, or someone else, had ensured the water never got too cold. Alayne felt tears prick her eyes at the sight of it, even as she hurried to undress and slide into the water.

She didn’t know if this was another example of Darren’s courtesy or not, and she wasn’t sure it mattered any more either. Somewhere, somehow, something had changed. Something within her had transformed her anger and her hatred into another feeling, one she had no idea how to deal with, or even put a name to. It felt almost as if she was being bespelled.

Darren MacLean… what have ye done tae me? I swore I’d hate ye until the day me braither made me a widow, or ye divorced me o’ yer own free will and took his place in the king’s dungeon. And yet now, things are changing tae fast fer me tae keep up. I nae longer ken what I feel, or what tae dae about it.

When Donall comes, will I still be strong enough tae go tae his side, or will ye have ensnared me so much I nae longer desire tae return home - or avenge me kin?