Chapter 15
“What did ye say?” Clara asked, certain she had not heard Reid correctly.
“I asked if ye’d marry me.” He gave a sheepish smile that made her heart go soft. “Unless ye still mean to return to Paisley Abbey—”
“Aye,” she replied.
He froze, and she realized he thought she referred to the convent.
“I mean, aye, I’ll marry ye,” she amended quickly.
His face broke out in a broad grin, mayhap the biggest she’d ever seen on him. He leapt to his feet and captured her in a hug that lifted her off her feet.
“Are ye sure?” she asked.
“I’ve no’ ever been surer of anything in my life.” He set her back on her feet. “Ye’re the one good thing that has ever happened to me, Clara Fletcher. I canna lose ye.”
“Reid.” She wrapped her arms about him and remained there for a long moment with her head pressed to his chest, his heartbeat throbbing in a strong rhythm against her cheek.
Everything was completely perfect.
The realization of what they were about to face slammed into her like a punch.
Everything would be completely perfect, were it not for the droves of Englishmen marching to Dumbarton and the impending battle. Reid would want to fight, of course. Even injured.
A frisson of fear squeezed through her. What if he was overpowered on the battlefield? What if—
Nay, she would not think it.
Except the idea of it already whispered in the back of her mind, that very real danger. Her arms tightened around him, mindful of his injuries, and yet she suddenly found herself loathe to let him go.
He had chosen happiness. And so too would she.
She would also be joining him on the battlefield. Unbeknownst to him, so he could not decline her offer—as he most assuredly would. She would be there to protect him, to heal him, for whatever else he might need. But ultimately, to ensure his safety.
“Do ye think we can find a priest quickly?” he asked.
“I believe there’s one in the village. We can ask after…” her voice trailed off.
“Now,” Reid said.
She lifted her head from his chest and gazed up at him. “Now?”
“We are on the eve of war.” He stroked a hand down her face. “Or mayhap the attack will come within the hour. It is all too uncertain, Clara. I dinna know what the outcome will be, but I know that I want ye as my wife, no matter what may come.”
No matter what may come.
She couldn’t think about what all the possibilities might be. The threat of tears tingled at her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Then, let us see if we can find a priest now.”
He clasped her hand and drew her from the chamber, out into the hall where he stopped a passing guard. “Where’s the chapel?”
The man looked between Reid and Clara before pointing up. “Top of the gate tower.”
Reid nodded his thanks, and together he and Clara raced down the stairs like children toward the castle gates. On their way through the Great Hall, the faces they encountered were grim.
The news must have been announced of the upcoming attack from the English.
Clara slowed her pace, as did Reid at her side, and slid her hand into his.
“Ye shouldna be here,” Reid said under his breath.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with ye.” She looked up at him and found worry creasing his brow.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as his attention caught on someone. “Finlay,” he called. “Come be our witness. We’re to be wed.”
Finlay came over with a smirk. “Ye’re going to wed this beast of a man?” he asked. “Now?”
Clara looked at Reid and nodded, unable to stop the glowing swell in her chest for the man she had lost her heart to.
Finlay eyed Reid menacingly. “If ye hurt her, I’ll kill ye.”
“No’ before the English,” someone muttered as they passed.
“Dinna pay them any mind,” Reid said with a glare over his shoulder.
Together, the three of them made their way to the gates and up into the stone tower, where a priest stood among several parishioners who knelt before the altar.
It was a small chapel, its walls and ceiling comprised of gray stone offset with the golden wood of its pews and altar.
Candles were lit on tall candlesticks around the room to provide light, warmth and succor to those seeking comfort on dark days, such as the one they now faced.
“Father,” Reid said to the older man. “Will ye marry us?”
A look of deep sadness passed over the priest’s withered face, but he nodded and attempted a smile. “Aye, of course.”
The men praying by the altar stood back and sat in the pews, partially locked in their thoughts as they watched the ceremony.
It was a brief exchange of vows, which suited Clara fine.
They promised to remain faithful to one another, to care for one another, and with only a few short words, they were wed.
Bound forever with a set of vows Clara had never thought to be so fortunate to take. Vows that gave her a husband and promised a home and a family to love.
Her dreams coming true.
Reid cradled her face in his hands and regarded her with such tender affection that her heart nearly burst. They turned to the audience of strangers who offered muted smiles and Finlay, who gave a congratulatory grin.
After thanking the priest and Finlay, they clasped hands once more, husband and wife, and were set free into a world ready to be taken down by war.
There was no wedding feast, as there might have been in other times. But none of that mattered. They had each other, and that was all either of them needed.
They were silent as they made their way through the crowds of people once more, some solemn, others frantic with a need for action. As they walked, each slid a glance at the other.
Husband.
The word resounded in Clara’s mind and echoed in her heart. She was wed. There would be no convent for her after all.
Reid.
His name was a wistful sigh in her soul. One she repeated with each footfall, letting it sing out in her mind.
He had faced his greatest fear—for her. Together, they returned to the keep and up the stairs to what was now their chamber. Reid opened the door and indicated she go first. “After ye, my wife.”
“Thank ye, my husband,” she said with a little laugh, giddy with joy.
He followed behind her and closed the door, pausing only to bar the door before taking her into his arms. The smile he gave her was reticent. “Ye recall how I told ye I saw ye that day at the market? When William enlisted yer sister as his archer.”
Clara nodded.
“I thought of ye every day after,” he admitted.
Her pulse quickened with delighted surprise. “Ye did?”
He gave a sheepish nod. “I dinna want to ask after ye and come across as overeager. But one time, Kinsey told me ye were unwed, and I never forgot that.” His hands clasped hers. “I never forgot ye. Now, after all those nights and days thinking of ye, ye’re my wife.” He gave a disbelieving chuckle.
“Thank ye for facing yer fears for me,” Clara said earnestly.
He stroked her face with his fingertips. “Thank ye for being worth it.” He shook his head. “I canna believe my good fortune.”
“Aye, ye can.” Clara edged even closer to him, bringing the proximity between them to something more intimate. “I’m here. And ye’re here. And we’ve our whole lives stretched ahead of us.”
The familiar beat of desire thrummed through her veins, only this time she did not have to fight it or let a wave of guilt follow in its wake. She was a wife, a woman who was free to be loved by her husband.
And that was just what she intended to do.
She put her hands to his broad chest, pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “Love me, husband,” she whispered against his lips.
“I already do,” he said softly.
Her heart fluttered at such precious words.
She leaned slightly back to regard him, her expression intentionally earnest, so he would know how genuine she was in her request. “Do not pull from me at the last moment.” Her fingers skimmed over the padded squares of his gambeson, knowing he would understand what she meant. “Please.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “If something were to happen to me, Clara, I canna leave ye and a bairn—”
“If something happened to ye,” she said.
“Which I do not believe it will, then I…” Saying such words aloud was far greater a difficulty than she had anticipated they would be.
“I would want yer babe, a part of ye, that I would always have to remember ye by,” she finished, her voice cracked with the power of her emotion.
Reid smoothed the hair back from her face and nodded. “If that is what ye wish.”
“I do,” she breathed. “And come back to me so we can build our cottage and have our bairns. Together.”
He drew her into his arms and kissed her soundly. For now, this one night would have to be enough.
Reid couldn’t promise he would return from the fight. No one knew where fate would cast its dice on the battlefield.
What he could promise was to love her in the time they had. To show her his appreciation for the way she made him feel, for the bliss she brought into his life. He brushed his tongue against hers, cherishing the sweet taste of her, and reveling in her clean, floral scent as it enveloped him.
He pulled at the ties of his gambeson as he kissed her and shrugged out of the heavy garment. Her hands moved over his thin leine with an eagerness he understood all too well.
They had been hurried before, still nearly entirely dressed and on the damp floor of a forest. While they were now in a finely appointed room in a castle—this was exactly what she deserved. Luxury, beauty, warmth and comfort.
He tugged at the bow at the back of her kirtle, his fingers working at the woven wool. A breathy exhale sighed from her lips as she leaned her head back to offer the creamy expanse of her neck and chest.
With a groan, he leaned over her, his mouth grazing her skin as he admired at the way pleasure washed over her in a delicate, rosy hue. Once her gown was loosened, he skimmed his hand first over her right shoulder and then her left to sweep the kirtle from her body.
The heavy blue wool pooled at her feet, leaving her in only her shift, her nipples standing in peaks against the thick fabric. He tugged his leine off, revealing himself before revealing her.
Her breath came more quickly, and her gaze glided down his body. He squared his shoulders, indulgently flexing his hard-won muscles for his wife. She sucked in a breath, and when her eyes returned to his, they were bright with desire.
He reached for the ribbon at the center of her chemise and pulled. It gave with a soft pop as the bow slipped free. His fingertips caressed her graceful neck, down over the swell of her breasts to the edge of her chemise, which he caught as he drew his touch across her bosom.
The simple, loose garment slid down her shoulders and pooled at her feet, joining her kirtle. She wore only her stockings now, tied just over her knees. Reid let his stare wander over her beautiful body, something he hadn’t had the privilege of doing when they were together in the forest.
Seeing her now, blushing and bare and eager, was more than worth the wait.
Her skin was smooth and flawless, her thighs slender with a triangle of dark hair at the apex. His gaze traced up the curve of her hips to her slim waist to where her breasts rose high and proud on her chest.
She was even more beautiful than he had imagined. And he had imagined her. Quite often, in fact. But never had he thought he would actually see her thus, let alone that she would become his wife.
“Clara.” Her name came out on a low groan.
She shyly looked away, but he tenderly brought her face back to him. “Ye’re the bonniest lass in all of Scotland.”
Her cheeks and lips were rosy, from his kisses and her own reticence.
“And ye’re my wife.” He cupped the back of her head and kissed her deeply, his body aching from his need to feel the heat of her naked skin against his.
His free hand glided up her waist and to her breast, where he brushed the pink tip of her nipple with his thumb. She moaned into his mouth.
In the forest, they hadn’t had the time to explore one another, to relish the many aspects of intimacy.
Now, their mission had been properly seen to, and they had only to wait on the English to attack.
Though he was loathe to think it, in the back of his mind, he acknowledged that this could well be the last time he was ever with Clara.
He intended to enjoy it for every moment.
His mouth moved down her chin, her neck, not stopping his descent until his lips parted over her nipple. She cried out and wrapped her arms around him to hold him closer as he loved the pert bud with his tongue.
Once the little nub strained taut against his mouth, he shifted to the other one, circling and flicking over it as she sighed with obvious enjoyment.
His hands caressed her smooth skin, over the flare of her hips and back to cradle her round bottom.
Their bodies pressed together, so the force of his arousal strained against her stomach.
With an excited gasp, she arched herself against him. The meeting of their pelvises sent prickles of delight racing over Reid’s body.
This time would be different. This time there would be no pain for Clara, only pleasure.
He straightened to claim her lips once more as his hand dipped between her legs, tracing the slit of her sex, where she was wet and ready. Her knees buckled, but he held fast to her with his free hand and teased his touch over her again and again until her breath came in shaky pants.
There was so much more he wanted to do with her, so much more affection to give.
He slid a finger inside her. Her lashes fluttered.
He eased back, watching her face as the digit carefully thrust inside the grip of her sheath. Her eyes held his, heavy-lidded as she issued forth a soft moan.
His prick was near-bursting with the longing to take her.
His wife.
His.
She had helped him see how he was being held back by his pain. How in his hate, he had forgotten to see love. He saw it now in her, in what they shared, in how she made him feel.
Not just passion, but the need to always be with her, to protect her and care for her.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her on the fine velvet coverlet and kissed her ardently. She would know how greatly he loved her by the attention he gave her this night and always.
She pushed up on her forearms to meet him halfway; her chin angled upward to return his kisses better. But he backed away from her, issuing little kisses and licks down her body, past her breasts to the slight dip of her navel.
She studied him as he moved lower, her ice-blue eyes burning like fire. He parted her thighs where they draped over the bed, exposing her sex, swollen and wet with need.
“Reid,” she said hesitantly.
“Trust me,” he murmured and leaned forward.
“Why—”
He traced her sex with his tongue, and the question died on her lips as she found out exactly what he meant to do.