Chapter 16

16

T he door opened a moment later, and Braden stood on the threshold, dressed in breeches and a white linen shirt unbuttoned over his chest. He smiled at Roselyn and stepped aside, beckoning her to enter. For a moment, it seemed as if he was not going to speak, but as he closed the door, he cleared his throat, smiling at Roselyn, and inviting her to sit.

"I didnae like to call out, in case it was nae ye," he said, as she sat on the chair by the hearth he had indicated.

A rug had been unrolled there, and on it was a set a meal – bread and cheese, dried fruits, and a raised pie. There was wine, too, the same she had drunk on the night of her arrival, along with cups and cutlery. Apollo was sleeping next to the rug, sprawled out to catch the warmth of the flames. Roselyn smiled.

"I wasn't sure if you'd speak again," she said, and Braden looked at her curiously.

"Why did ye think that? I spoke before, didnae I?" he asked.

"You did, but… I wasn't sure what prompted you. Was it the danger? Was it seeing me in danger?" she asked, but he shrugged and sat down opposite her on the rug.

"I daenae know. I cannae explain it – even to myself. Tis' like… I daenae know," Braden said, and Roselyn smiled at him.

It was enough to know he could speak – she did not need to know why, even as she hoped it was something to do with her own influence. Certainly, she could not claim to have taught him, but if she had helped in some small way, or been the reason for his speech to return, that was enough to satisfy her.

It felt strange to think of herself as the only person who had heard Braden speak since he was a child. But his voice itself was not childlike. It was the voice of a man, deep and pronounced. It had an authority to it, and Roselyn could not help but be attracted by the tone of Braden's speech.

"You don't have to explain it. But I'm glad to have heard you speak. I feel privileged to be the one who first did," Roselyn said, and Braden smiled.

"Apollo heard it, too. I was bandagin' his paw, and I spoke to him. He looked at me in surprise. I suppose he'd never heard his master's voice," Braden said, looking over at Apollo, who now raised his head from the rug.

Braden was sitting by the hearth, and Roselyn slipped down from her chair to join him. He poured two cups of wine, handing one to Roselyn and smiling.

"Do you drink wine?" she asked, and he laughed.

"Nae usually. But I knew ye liked it. Will ye eat?" he asked, and Roselyn nodded.

He had gone to some lengths to prepare for their evening together, and Roselyn was touched by his thoughtfulness. No other man had ever treated her in such a way. At home, under the watchful eyes of her parents, Roselyn had known only the arrogant swagger of would-be suitors, who believed they needed to do little more than present themselves to win her affections.

But Braden was different. He had not assumed those affections, even though they had been there from the start. Even on the journey north, she had found herself attracted to him, and grateful to him for saving her. Having done so again, there was no doubt in Roselyn's mind as to Braden's feelings for her, and she was only too glad to be in his company now.

"You're very kind. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve all this," Roselyn replied, as Braden cut a piece of the raised pie for her, before refilling her cup.

He smiled and shook his head.

"Ye didnae need to do anythin' – but ye've done a great deal for me. Ye came here. That's enough," he said.

Roselyn did not entirely understand, but she was grateful for Braden's words, as now they ate together in front of the fire, and Roselyn found herself entirely at ease in his company. There were no more barriers between them, and it felt to Roselyn as though they had known one another their whole lives long.

"I don't feel like I've done anything. But it's kind of you to say so. It's you that's done so much for me. You protected me – on the journey here, and in the woods. I was… scared. But I'm not scared now, not with you," she said, and he smiled at her.

"I'm glad. It still feels strange – to talk, I mean. I've been so used to usin' signs, with the clansmen, with Calder, with my mother and sister," he said.

"Speaking of Kenna… She came to see me this evening. She told me how she longs to hear you speak. That's why she invited me here, to teach you. Won't you speak to her?" Roselyn asked.

Braden pondered for a moment, sighing, before finishing his cup of wine.

"I daenae know. If I speak, I cannae go back. Do ye see what I mean? Tis' one thing to talk to ye, but quite another to talk to them. Until today, I didnae think I could speak, either. It's going to take some getting' used to. I know Kenna wants me to speak, and I will, just nae yet," he said, and Roselyn nodded.

She would not force the matter, but she hoped Braden would find it in himself to do so – that he would want to do so – and now she smiled at him, as he edged a little closer to her across the rug. They had finished eating, and Braden tossed Apollo the last of the raised pie, shaking his head, as the dog devoured it.

"He must be glad to hear your voice," Roselyn said, and Braden shrugged.

"Aye, perhaps. But tis' why I keep silent with the others. I daenae know if my voice is welcome," he said.

A sudden shadow passed over his face, and Roselyn wondered who he was thinking about.

"Donald?" she asked, and Braden nodded.

"My uncle is a strange man. I've known him all my life, and yet… I daenae really know him at all. Tis' a strange thing. He brought that man here – the bandit – but why?"

"But you didn't believe him? You didn't believe the man who attacked me was the same man who killed your father?" Roselyn asked.

Braden shook his head. "Nay, lass. He couldnae have done. I… I have a dream, ye see," he said, looking suddenly uncertain.

Roselyn reached out and took his hand in hers. "What sort of dream?" she asked, and he looked up at her and sighed, shaking his head, as though torn between keeping the matter to himself and revealing a vulnerability.

"Tis' a dream, the dream of what happened that night. The night my father died," he said.

Roselyn squeezed his hand, edging closer across the rug. "It's all right, you don't have to tell me," she said, but he shook his head.

"Nay, lass, I want to. I've never been able to speak of it before. Nae to anyone. Tis' too complicated for signs," he said, and Roselyn nodded.

She would not push him, but it seemed he needed to speak, and now he could. "I understand," she said, placing both her hands in his.

He took a deep breath, glancing around the room, as though making certain no one else was there.

"Tis' a dream I've had ever since the night my father was murdered. Tis' a repetition of what I saw. I wake up, and I can hear voices, and a cry – the murder of my father. Kenna stays sleepin', but I get up and go to the door of my parent's chambers. It's standin' ajar, and through it I can see my mother, and the figure of a man, standin' over the body of my father. He's dead, lyin' in a pool of blood. I watch for a moment, and then my mother sees me. The figure doesnae turn, but the look on my mother's face urges me to flee, even as the figure turns toward me," Braden said, shaking his head, with a look of rage on his face.

Roselyn was astonished. He had kept this burden in his heart all these years, and only now had he found the power to relieve himself from it.

"It's all right. What do you see?" she asked, but Braden shook his head.

"I daenae see anythin' – as the figure turns, I wake up. Tis' the end of the dream. But it wasnae a dream. It was real. The look on my mother's face… I fled. She told me never to speak of what I'd seen, and I didnae speak of it, nae to anyone," he said, shaking his head.

He looked up at Roselyn, who moved closer to him, slipping her hands around his waist, and embracing him. She wanted to comfort him, to let him know he was no longer alone.

He was no longer the helpless child in his dream, caught up in the terror of what might have been had the figure turned and seen him. But she knew, too, how fearful he must have been on that night, and how powerful the recurrence of such a trauma surely was.

"But now you have, and I'm glad. I can't fully understand what you've suffered, but I'm glad to be the one you now confide in," she said, resting her forehead against his.

"I trust ye, lass. When my uncle came to tell me of the man in the dungeons today, I believed I'd see the figure in my dream. But somehow it wasnae him; I know it wasnae him. Daenae ask me how, but I do," Braden replied.

Roselyn nodded. She was uncertain what to say, even as she knew it was enough just to listen. He sighed, still resting his head against her forehead, and now their lips met in a kiss. She clung to him, and he to her, caught up in the desire to comfort him, to be close to him, and receive the reassurance of his touch. As their lips parted, he smiled at her.

"You can tell me anything. I'll listen," Roselyn whispered.

"Tis' enough to tell ye these things. My dream… it'll only continue. Until I know the truth it'll be the same," he said as he now brought his lips to hers once more, drawing her closer into his embrace.

The fire was burning low, its embers flickering, casting shadows on the walls, and now they lay together on the rug, their lips pressed together. Roselyn's shawl fell away from her shoulders, exposing her neckline, as Braden brushed the hair gently from her cheek.

He kissed her again, and Roselyn lay back, as he traced a trail with his lips across her neck and along the hem of her dress.

Despite her innocence, in Braden's company, she had no fear. She trusted him. He pulled at the shoulders of her dress, exposing her breasts and his hand, warm and sensuous to the touch, caressed her skin. Roselyn gave a deep sigh, entirely caught up in the delights of the sensation.

"Ye drive me crazy, lass," he murmured, as he pulled off his shirt, exposing his chest. Roselyn fumbled with the belt of his breeches. She wanted to feel closer to him. Wanted to feel all of him.

He was aroused, and as he lay naked at her side his hands searched out the ties of her dress, exposing her body to the warmth of the fire.

"Ye're perfect," he said softly, as he brought his lips to her breast, tracing a trail down over her stomach, and she gasped at the touch of his fingers against her groin.

Roselyn had never known such intimacy. It was a whispered secret between married women, a duty, or so she had been told. But this was different – the intimacy they shared, the words he had said and now expressed through touch and sign. They did not need words to express their feelings.

They could show them, and now, as Braden bit the side of her neck softly as he continued working with his fingers, Roselyn gasped. A sudden warmth rose in her, a tingling, pleasurable warmth, filling her with ecstasy. She ran her hands through his hair, and he looked up at her and smiled.

"Do ye like this, lass?" he asked, and it was all she could do to nod, and gasp in response.

The feeling was growing stronger now, rising in her, and with a sudden shudder, she gave way to it, letting out a cry as she did so. Braden rose to kiss her, bringing his lips to hers. His arms slipped around her, as now they lay together on the rug in front of the heart. Roselyn closed her eyes, allowing the last of the sensations to course through her, astonished at what she had just felt – a feeling like none other she had known before.

"I never thought… I never knew," she said, as he brushed the hair back from her cheek.

"I've thought about it ever since I first laid eyes on ye, lass. I desired ye. Ye're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on. Everythin' about ye –" he said, and he kissed her neck once again, holding her closely in his embrace.

"I feel the same, and I can't imagine feeling any differently," she replied, as he rolled onto his side, and slipped his hand into hers.

"And what would yer parents say? Would they approve of ye courtin' a Scottish laird in a distant land – a place fraught with danger?" he asked.

Roselyn smiled. She knew just what her parents would say about such a match. Her father would not approve. He would still be determined for her to marry a man of his choosing – Baron Wesley, or one of the other terrible matches he had paraded in front of her. But Roselyn no longer cared for such opinions. She had fallen in love with Braden, and nothing else mattered but that.

"They let me come here, but they expect me to return, too. I've got to, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't come back," she said, and Braden smiled.

"They'd be shocked to see ye on the arm of the guard sent to escort ye," he said, and Roselyn laughed.

"I'm sure they would. But they'd soon know the truth. You could tell them yourself, couldn't you?" she replied.

Roselyn felt certain her parents could be convinced of Braden's merits. He was a powerful man, the laird of a great clan, with wealth and influence. But Roselyn knew her father's prejudice against the Scots, and while he might eventually be convinced, it would take time and persuasion to do so.

"To speak? I daenae know… perhaps," he said.

Roselyn felt suddenly disappointed. If he was not willing to speak, then how would anyone ever know of his feelings for her? Could a mute man marry? He would be unable to pronounce his vows or speak the words of assent. He ran his fingers along her cheek, touching her lips, and now he leaned forward and kissed her.

"I hope… well, I hope you'll speak to more than just me and Apollo. In time, I mean. It doesn't have to be right away. But little by little, you'll grow used to it again. I'll help you," she said, and he smiled at her.

"I know ye will, lass," he said.

He yawned, stretching back on the rug resting his hands behind his neck. Roselyn was unsure of what to do. Should she return to her chambers? What did he expect of her? She made to put on her dress, but he stopped her, catching her arm.

"I should probably go. Elena might come to my chambers before bed," she said, imagining the uproar if the servant discovered she was gone.

"I told her she could have evenin' off – well, I signed to her," he said, and Roselyn laughed.

"You planned all of this, didn't you?" she said, and he nodded.

"I wanted us to be alone. I wanted us to talk. Will ye stay here with me tonight?" he asked, glancing towards the bed.

Roselyn smiled and nodded. She could think of nothing she would like better than to spend the night there with him. After what had happened in the forest that day, she knew she would feel safe in his arms, and did not like the thought of returning to her chambers alone.

"I'll stay. I want to stay," she said, as he rose to his feet and crossed over to the bed, pulling back the blankets.

The candles around the room were guttering, and it was dark outside, the fire burning low. Apollo was fast asleep, his ears pricking up occasionally, before lolling back to sleep. The bed was inviting, and Roselyn slipped between the sheets as Braden blew out the candles around the room, leaving only one burning at the bedside.

"I'm glad ye want to, lass. I hoped ye would. I hoped… well, I didnae know if ye truly felt the same. Words are nae quite the same as gestures," he said, slipping into bed and putting his arms around her.

Roselyn knew this to be true: a kiss, an embrace, the closeness of another. Those things could say far more than words, and it was through signs that they had fallen in love with one another, not words.

"But I do feel the same. Though I'm not certain what it means yet," she replied.

He kissed her, pulling her closer into his embrace, their foreheads touching on the pillow. "Do ye need to be? Cannae we just enjoy the moment," he whispered, kissing her again.

She felt protected in his arms, and he was right: why did they need to know for certain what the future held? It was enough to be content in the present, and as she fell asleep in his arms, Roselyn knew there was nowhere else she would rather be, and no one else whose arms she would want to have around her.