Fourteen #2
He kept her by his side. He touched her shoulder, her waist, her cheek. He deferred to her in conversation and, when their eyes met, smiled with such affection her heart made a funny skip.
She remembered him whispering “I love you” the night before. She knew he’d said it, although in the light of day her practical nature warned her to be cautious, but she wanted to heed it.
And in the end the truth was that she didn’t want to be cautious. She was in love. Her heart sang with it. She would not let doubt rob her of this happiness.
If any of the other women noticed that Gordon had not picked up the idea of handfasting, they were kind enough to not say anything.
Besides, work waited. Gordon went off to drill his men; Constance continued with the challenges of seeing to the needs of so many people.
By the time dinner was over, she was exhausted. Nor did she see Gordon. Her last glimpse of him had been almost an hour earlier. She’d caught sight of him with Jamie, Peter, and some of the other children.
Doubts teased Constance as she walked back to the tent. Perhaps nothing had changed between her and Gordon? Perhaps he was reconsidering what had happened last night?
She’d thought he had been as pleased with the clan’s approval as she, but what if he hadn’t been?
Constance stopped in mid-step. Gordon’s tent was no more than ten feet ahead.
Tad wasn’t waiting, and she didn’t know if the dog’s absence was a sign that Gordon wasn’t there.
Was she brave enough to go forward? Because if he wasn’t in there, if he wasn’t waiting for her, she feared her spirit would shatter.
How much better would it be to turn away? To not test this fragile love she’d just discovered. Certainly the Reivers would take her in, or Fiona.
In the end it was pride that made her enter the tent—and what she discovered inside sent her heart soaring.
Gordon was there, waiting for her.
He sat in the chair, leaning forward, resting his arms on his legs. His gaze was on the tent flap, and at her entrance the smile on his face erased all her doubts. She ran to his arms.
Pulling her down in his lap, he asked, “Are you surprised?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“I had my hands full planning this behind your back,” he said.
Constance frowned. “Planning what?”
“The bath,” he said, as if it were obvious.
She glanced around and only then noticed the washtub full of steaming water.
“I thought it would please you,” he said. “You said you liked to bathe. This way, you won’t be jumping in the loch for your bath.”
Constance was so touched by his thoughtfulness, she could barely speak. “I didn’t take a dip last night to bathe,” she answered.
His teeth flashed in a heart-rending smile. “I believe we are both tired of ever stepping foot in frigid water again.”
She laughed and heartily agreed by kissing him.
He picked up a bar of soap. “There isn’t enough room for us to take a bath together. What do you say that you use the tub first and I’ll do the scrubbing?”
It was an excellent idea.
Of course, this “bath” took hours.
Constance hadn’t ever thought of laughter in connection with lovemaking, but Gordon taught her differently. He teased her and tickled her and loved her.
Then, when they were both “scrubbed” clean and relaxed, he made love to her on the pallet. Afterward, he pulled his tartan over their satisfied bodies and held her close.
She smiled drowsily. “I never want to leave this tent.”
His hold on her tightened.
She opened her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, sensing his tension.
He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He kissed her where her thumb met her wrist, his teeth skimming the skin.
She waited, refusing to let him ignore her.
“Don’t want to think of the future,” he said. “Right now, you give me peace, and that is enough.”
Peace. Constance rolled on her side toward him. Placing her hand along his jaw, she asked, “Could there not be another way?”
“Not for me,” he answered. “Too much has gone on.”
“You could leave Scotland,” she suggested.
“You know I can’t,” he said. “I won’t leave them the way MacKenna did.”
Of course not. And yet, she couldn’t help but say wistfully, “I wish we could take everyone here to the Ohio Valley. A man can be what he is there. He makes his own rules.”
“It would still be running away,” Gordon answered.
He nuzzled her neck. He was hard and ready, again. She shook her head. “Gordon, there must be a way.”
His gaze met hers. He reached out and ran a finger over her lower lip. “I won’t desert them, Constance.”
“Would you desert me, then?”
His hand fell away.
She reached for it, placing his palm over her heart. “I had no right to ask.”
“You had every right, lass,” he whispered. “But I’m afraid of the answer.”
“Love me,” she begged.
“Ah, Constance, I do.”
She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, never wanting to let him go.
He pulled her up to sit on top of him—and Constance pushed her fears away.
Tomorrow would take care of itself. Right now her only desire, her only purpose, was to love this man.
Tad’s barking woke them.
Then they heard Thomas outside the tent, “Gordon, wake up. Brian has returned.”
Constance rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. They couldn’t have been sleeping more than a few hours.
Gordon had come immediately awake and was already dressing. “Stay here,” he ordered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She wasn’t about to do any such thing, not when the messenger who held her fate in his hands had returned. She scrambled into her clothes, yanked on her moccasins, and, throwing the tartan over her shoulders, went outside.
The sun was just rising. Someone had built up the cooking fires.
The men were gathered there. Constance went over and had to work her way to the center of the group.
Thomas held a lantern to provide more light while Gordon leaned over an exhausted Brian.
As she drew closer, she saw that Brian’s shirt was covered with blood.