Chapter 1

Blake woke to find his shoulder aching, but his head was no longer full of fever dreams, and the shaking that had plagued him had subsided. He frowned as he cast his thoughts back, trying to recapture the events of the previous afternoon and evening. He remembered everything up to the point where he'd been stabbed, but the time following that was hazy.

He'd given Reyna directions to this cave, he thought, and he vaguely remembered Reyna removing his shirt and tending his wound – the poultice on his shoulder told him he hadn't imagined that much. His mouth tasted of herbs, suggesting she'd poured one of her teas or tisanes into him as well.

But where was she? Blake shoved himself into a sitting position, ready to go search for her, only to stop short as he spotted her sitting in the entrance of the cave, wrapped in a blanket against the morning chill. As soon as he was upright, she spoke. "How are ye feeling?"

"Better than I was." He prodded his shoulder. "Ye've done good work. Thank ye."

"Aye..." She paused, a troubled expression on her face, before she shifted closer and lay her hand on his arm. "And just so ye ken... I believe ye, though I'd like tae ken the full story someday."

He blinked, confused by the odd statement. "What are ye talking about?"

She drew back but met his gaze steadily. "Ye were fevered last night. Ye spoke in yer nightmares, about yer faither. About what happened tae him."

Nae. Gods above, how could I have been fevered enough tae reveal that?He felt a little sick. "Dinnae ken what ye heard…"

"Dinnae take me fer a fool, Blake Sinclair. One look at yer face tells me ye ken well enough what I'm referring tae. And given that ye apparently abandoned me over the matter and left me grieving yer disappearance, ye owe me an explanation."

Blake flushed and looked away from her. "'Tis nae something I like tae talk about. It's a hard thing tae be thinking o'."

"What o' it? ‘Twas hard fer me tae face when ye left me standing in that meadow every day fer a year, and I had tae admit that ye were never coming back. And yet, I survived it, aye, and learned tae live with it and move forward."

He grimaced. As much as he didn't like to hear it, she was right. He'd been too panicked and heartsick back then to think about how she might feel, but there was no denying he'd hurt her.

A hand on his arm made him look up, and he found Reyna had come closer. Her face was still stern, but there was a glimmer of compassion in her eyes. "I ken it's difficult, but I've spent so many days wondering..." Her voice cracked a little, and she paused a moment before she continued. "...'twould be easier, and give me some peace, and ye as well I think, if ye'd just tell me why ye behaved as ye did."

She was right about that as well. He took a deep breath. "Ye ken Hutch said me faither had collapsed."

"Aye."

"He wouldnae say in front o' ye, but the truth was me faither had died afore he came tae get me. He was found on the floor by one o' the maids. The healer told the Elders and me uncle that he'd been poisoned."

Thinking of that day was hard. "Hutch told me that because I was out o' the castle, and because me faither and I had argued the night afore he passed, folk were thinking I'd been the one tae murder him. They kent I spent time with ye, and that even then, ye had a way with teas and herbs. Hutch said that by the time he came looking fer me, there were already rumors that I'd murdered me own faither, and then fled the castle tae either cast suspicion elsewhere, or tae escape the consequences. He told me that without proof o' me innocence, it was near certain the Clan Elders would have me head. And I kent he was right, so I fled."

"And why did ye never come tae see me, or even write?"

"Because I didn't want ye tainted by any rumored association with a kin-killer. And because I didnae want people tae think ye were helping me flee or believe the rumors that ye might have helped me poison me faither." He hesitated a moment, uncertain about revealing the rest of it. But then, how could it be any worse than what he'd already told her? "And I was afraid that ye might believe the rumors as well."

"I wouldnae have." She paused. "Ye should ken, there never were any accusations made against me. In fact, we never heard what happened tae Laird Leith, save that he passed. The only message we had on the matter was that he'd died, and ye'd abandoned yer duties, and been named outcast fer it."

Her hair always fell into her face when she was upset and too preoccupied to brush it back. It hid her eyes. When he'd begun to fall in love with her, he'd hated that, hated not being able to see how her eyes sparkled and changed with different emotions. He could remember when he'd brushed it away and teased her with it, and how he'd longed to do so with a kiss, that last day in the meadow when she was ranting about the perils of being a lass.

The longing hadn't changed, and ten years hadn't eliminated his urge to reach out as his boyhood-self had done. He stopped himself with an effort and forced his wayward thoughts back to the task at hand. "I didnae. And I didnae want tae abandon ye. I swear it tae ye... if I hadnae been afraid fer yer safety and reputation, I'd have come back tae ye."

* * *

Reyna sat for several minutes after Blake had finished speaking, turning over his words in her thoughts. What he'd said made sense, and she could even understand why he'd thought that leaving her behind was the best thing to do.

Still, she had a feeling that wasn't the whole tale. There was the matter of how he'd come to be a warrior of the Murray clan. "Why'd ye go tae Laird Murray?"

Blake scowled. "I didnae, nae deliberately. I was traveling and ran afoul o' bandits. I could handle them easily enough now, but then I was a stripling with nae enough training or size tae make the difference when I was outnumbered as bad as I was." He lifted a hand to run a finger down the prominent scar she'd noticed the day before. "One o' them gave me this, and more wounds besides. I thought I was going tae die, but when I came tae, I was in the cottage o' Laird Oran's healer. His scouts had found me in the nick o' time, and brought me in. Laird Oran came tae speak tae me, and he told me that he'd tak' me in, if I was willing tae serve him. Said if I could prove meself, he'd give me safety, training and a position at his side. Given the debt I owed him fer me life and the straits I was in, I wasnae in any sort o' position tae refuse."

She could sense the sincerity of his words. More than that, his story answered many of the questions she'd had over the years, and since she'd realized who he truly was. While no one would ever accuse Oran Murray of being a good man, or a kind one, he had the sort of sly mind that could see the sort of asset Blake might be. Even if he knew no more than Reyna's father about the circumstances of Laird Leith's death, he was the sort who'd take pleasure in claiming another clans' child, especially an heir and making him into a valued warrior of his clan.

Blake was still watching her, waiting for her reaction. She took a deep breath. "I believe ye."

"And will ye forgive me?"

How to answer that? After a moment of thought, she reached under the collar of her blouse and fished out the metal flower he'd given her, their last day together as children. Blake's eyes widened as she lifted it free and held it out. She shifted closer, the small flower on it's worn leather cord between them, until she was close enough to feel the heat of his body and hear the unsteady rasping of every inhalation. His eyes were locked on the battered metal flower, and he lifted an unsteady hand to touch it as she spoke.

"I never could bear tae part with it. Even when I was angriest, I couldnae stop wearing it. I wanted a part o' ye with me, tae remember that what we had shared was real." She kept her voice soft as she watched his hand caressing the necklace, his callused fingers brushing against hers.

Slowly, his gaze rose to meet hers, hope and fear and vulnerability all evident in the bright blue eyes. His hand drifted up the cord to cup her cheek "Ye... ye kept this all this time... ye wanted…" His voice, breathless with wonder, failed him.

She stared, uncertain what to do, then Blake moved, pulling her against him with his good arm, while his lips molded themselves against hers, a plea and an offering all at once. Reyna gasped against his mouth, startled by the feeling of warmth and need and rightness that his kiss sparked within her.

It seemed only natural to move closer to him. To straddle his lap. She could feel the growing pressure of his swelling manhood and knew without words that he felt the same sense of completion that she did, as if long ago wounds were being healed at the touch of their bodies together. As if their shared breaths were a gift.

Blake's hands slid to her waist, thumbs brushing the top of her skirt as if he might slide them beneath the fabric to caress her skin. Some distant part of her mind knew she should move away, but the pull of the moment was strong, and she hadn't seen him in so long. Half-buried memories and unresolved feelings of her youth rose up and engulfed her, drowning her sense of outrage and duty in a single instant of warmth such as she hadn't felt in ten years.

It felt like the simplest thing in the world to run her hands down the front of his bared chest and mold them to the subtle lines of his well-defined muscles. She dragged them to his waist, feeling the heat and growing hardness there, confined by the fabric. Blake made a sound as his mouth drifted from hers to her shoulder, his hot breath teasing her breasts through the soft cotton fabric of her blouse.

They were alone, and she'd naught to look forward to save a loveless marriage made to rescue her brother. It would be so easy to loosen his belt, free the shaft of his manhood… would he really deny her anything?

She was confused and angry still, but surely she could have this, here with him. It was clear from his ragged breathing and the hardness beneath her hands that he was unlikely to refuse her. At the very least, he didn't seem to want to deny her touch any more than she wanted to cease touching him.

Her arms slid beneath his, encouraging him to lift his hands to where he was cupping her breasts through the fabric. The sensation was pleasant, exciting even, and she heard Blake suck in a ragged gasp. She reached up and grabbed his shoulders, dragging herself closer.

Blake winced, pulling back with a gasp as the heel of her palm dug into his injured shoulder. The sound was like a bucket of ice water thrown over her.

She blushed and shimmed backward to escape his arms. He let her go and she felt slightly bereft, but it was mingled with feelings of confusion, and a small amount of shame, that she might have forgotten her duties and the reason she was here with him, even for a moment. Perhaps it was unfair, but she was glad to see he looked flustered and a little lost as well. "Reyna…"

"Blake…" She spoke his name at the same time. They both stopped, blushes deepening, before Blake waved for her to speak first.

"Blake... I dae forgive ye. And I care fer ye still. But this... whatever it is we shared as children, whatever it is might be between us now... we cannae act on it. Ye ken we can't." She sat back, deliberately putting some distance between them. "I'm promised tae Laird Murray, and he's holding me braither hostage tae ensure the union. Nae matter what I feel, I cannae abandon me duty tae save me braither, nae even fer ye."

Blake sighed. "I ken, and I understand. I've me own duties I'm honor bound tae fulfill. I might nae love the man, or even like him, but Laird Oran did save me life, and I've an oath tae keep, in regards tae serving him."

He prodded his shoulder again, winced, then twisted around to fish a fresh clean shirt out of his saddle packs. Reyna took that as a signal to scoot out of the cave and leave him to dress, while she packed away the dishes and saddled the horse. A quick meal of travel bread and dried meat later, and they were on their way to Murray Keep, her arms wrapped around his waist.

The memory of their kiss and his touch, the thoughts of what they'd shared and nearly had together stayed with her on the rest of the journey, along with regret that they could never have anything more.