Chapter 22 #2
The longing Clara had for Reid before was nothing compared to what burned in her core after the battle, once they were both safely in the confines of their chamber.
Mayhap it was the overwhelming relief that he had survived, or seeing his power on the battlefield, or even the danger they had both faced and how it charged them with the sensation of truly living.
Regardless, their coupling was fast and desperate, with a wall at Clara’s back to hold them both upright, their skin pale beneath soot-stained clothing.
Their joining was a celebration of being alive and being in love—as beautiful as it was frenzied.
When they were done, they slid to the ground where they lay against one another panting, legs entwined. A deep calm settled over Clara as her heartbeat evened out, and her mind began to sift through the events that had transpired in those terrifying hours.
“I thought I lost ye when we were in the cottage before they set it ablaze,” she admitted aloud. It had been too difficult to speak so candidly when the children were within earshot. Now they had the luxury of privacy to discuss such matters.
“I looked outside and didn’t see ye.” She pressed her lips together and wondered for the countless time if the act of opening the door had brought the Englishmen’s attention to her. Not that the act could be taken back, however, she could not help but assess every action she had taken in hindsight.
A muscle worked in Reid’s jaw and something twisted in Clara’s stomach.
“What is it?” She sat up on her elbow to see him better. Soot still smudged his face and coated his auburn hair. “What happened?”
His gaze went distant, seeing something she could not. “I encountered Lord Rottry.”
Clara sucked in a breath. “He was in the village?”
Reid’s stare drifted toward the floor. “I left to go after him. It was why I wasna there when they set fire to the cottage ye were in.” He clenched his fist. “Ye and the bairns almost died in there because of my need for vengeance.” His voice caught.
She put her hand on his forearm and detected a tremble. “We didn’t die.” Her fingers left a black smudge on his skin. She pushed up to her feet and went to the ewer and basin, bringing both back with several lengths of linen. “What happened?”
Reid sat up and accepted the damp linen from her, scrubbing it over his hands first and then his face and hair. “I killed him.”
Clara knew what this man had meant to Reid and what his death would signify. However, Reid’s blank expression did not reflect what should have been an enormous triumph.
She lowered the now dirty linen in her hands to her lap and regarded him. “It didn’t make ye feel better, did it?”
He shook his head. “I think ye were right when ye said holding onto hate and anger only makes it burn brighter, and for no reason.”
“At least now ye know he won’t do the same to anyone else. Ye’ve helped save others from the fate ye suffered.” She put her hand over his. “And ye had made the decision to be happy and live yer life before ye killed him.”
He looked down at where their hands were clasped and smiled. “I’m a lucky man to have such a knowing wife.”
“And as yer knowing wife,” she said gently. “I need to see to yer back. And whatever other injuries ye may have.”
He pushed up to his feet, his slow movements indicative of his wounds. “I dinna think I will miss battle once we’ve settled somewhere quiet,” he admitted.
“I will not, for certes.” But even as she said it, she couldn’t help the smile stretching over her lips. He didn’t intend to go to battle anymore. That meant he truly did mean to ease into a peaceful, happy life with her.
“Where do ye think ye’d like to live?” She kept her question casual as she dumped the dirty water through the window and refilled the basin with a fresh pour.
Reid lay on his stomach with his back facing her. The injuries had opened once more and appeared to have been bleeding for some time. The pain was likely considerable, and yet not once had he complained.
“We could go to Castleton if ye like, near yer mum,” he said. “Or to Skye near Dunscaith Castle where William and Kinsey live.” He shrugged. “Or we can go elsewhere.”
Clara’s stomach tightened at the idea of being torn once more between Castleton or Dunscaith. The argument between Drake and her mother surfaced in her mind, the one that had pushed her to leave Castleton for Paisley Abbey in the first place.
Reid turned his head to regard her from where he rested. “Ye need no’ choose for anyone but yerself.”
“Nay.” She tilted her face toward his. “We have to choose for ourselves.”
He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“As do I.”
She returned her attention to her task as she applied poultices to his wounds. “I believe Castleton to be too dangerous,” she admitted. “For a family.”
He smiled at the last words she said, and she found her lips lifting with joy as well.
Unfortunately, what she’d said was true. Castleton was too near to the border, where reivers from both sides regularly stole and retaliated against the other, setting their vengeance on villages. And though Drake had built them a stone manor on the village's outskirts, the location was still risky.
As strong a man as her husband was, Clara knew the power of his fear that all might once more be lost to the English. He had taken a chance on allowing their lives to entwine forever. She would not put their future in such a precarious position as Castleton warranted.
Clara carefully ran her hand down the unmarred side of Reid’s powerful back, enjoying the warm feel of his skin before wrapping the linen around his torso to protect his injuries. “I’ve heard Skye is very lovely.”
“Aye, verra much so. And I would be able to find employment as a guard with William.”
Clara nodded. “I believe we know where we’re going.”
“To Dunscaith.” He grimaced. “After I see the king.”
Clara matched his expression. “And after I speak with my mum.”
“And then a life together.” He rolled onto his side and pulled her to lay beside him.
She sighed and relaxed against him, relishing the wall of his body behind her. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she could be so at peace, so blissfully happy.
Soon, they would have a home together. She put a hand to her lower stomach. They would have children together.
An ache of longing settled in her chest at the thought of feeling a babe move in her womb, at holding it later in her arms and staring down at the sweet perfection of its small face.
She would be a mother. After all these years of empty arms and a hollow heart, she would have her true desire, the one that took a wonderful man to bring to the surface and see it done.
Soon.