Chapter Ten #4
I turned to him, leaning my head into the crook of his neck, and his arms closed more tightly around me.
I did not feel confined by him, only grateful of his protection, only thankful of his nearness and all that he was.
I could still taste him and feel the warmth and fullness of his essence inside me.
“Tell me of your parents, warrior. What were they like?” I asked him shyly; the question felt wildly personal, and I knew these were details he kept close to his heart and rarely spoke of.
I wondered if he would willingly talk about them.
I was surprised when he answered my question openly, and with genuine emotion coloring his words.
“My mother died when I was ten years old,” he said.
“She had difficulties when Christie was born. She died several days later. I remember her well. She was gentle like Ailie, and she had Christie’s exuberance but was somewhat quieter.
She had dark hair—not quite black—and pale gray eyes, like Knox’s.
She was often praised for her vibrant beauty.
” He paused, remembering, his voice softened by affection.
“She once called me her fiercest warrior son, when I won a swordsmanship contest when we were small children. Kade didn’t appreciate that comment and decided to arm himself to the teeth, making a point of equipping himself more heavily than either Knox or I.
Our mother noticed this, and soon after she called him her fiercest warrior son.
Kade was immensely pleased by this, and to this day he still makes sure to wear more weapons than we do. ” He laughed softly at the memory.
“What about Knox?” I asked. “Did he not get jealous?”
“Nay, he never had the need to. He was laird-in-waiting and my father always treated him as such. The two of them were very similar in temperament and in looks.”
I pictured Wilkie as a small, proud boy. And Kade, vying for the attentions of his elegant mother. And I imagined young Knox, perhaps a miniature of his noble, striking father.
“I’m sure she would have been very proud of the men you have all become.”
“I hope she would. The very last thing she said to us before she died was this—‘Promise me this: always follow your heart.’”
This silence was laced with sadness but also somehow charged, almost sparkling with it. I almost didn’t dare ask it, but then I said softly, “And are you?”
“Aye, lass. I am,” he said, his eyes deeply, darkly blue. “I am following my heart, to you.” He kissed my lips for a tender, lingering moment.
Then he settled me against him and looked out again at the low-hanging moon.
His next comment was murmured, like a private thought spoken aloud. “I am following my heart, but I am not following my brother the laird’s direct orders. Therein lies the problem.”
And so I understood his conflict a little bit more clearly, and how difficult a problem I had introduced for him.
He could justify and allow his desire for me in part because he imagined he was living the last words his mother had spoken to him, by keeping me close; yet this desire warred with his duty to his brother and his clan, their outreaching prosperity and the strengthening of crucial military alliances.
I was disturbed by his dilemma. And I was also comforted by his confession.
I am following my heart, to you. Hope ballooned in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, there could be an alternate solution to Wilkie’s betrothal to one of the Morrison women, another way of securing the alliance between clans and armies.
Maybe, if Knox was reminded of his mother’s dying words and if he knew of Wilkie’s claim on me, maybe he would somehow allow us to be together.
My eyes felt heavy, but my mind continued to churn.
“Come on, lass,” Wilkie said. “Time for bed.”
He carried me back to his bed and lay facing me, securing the furs tightly around us. His hand on my hip relaxed, and his breathing slowed as he fell asleep. I noticed this about him: he was a good sleeper, drifting easily into his dreams.
My drowsing thoughts were fluid and disturbed.
I wondered if Knox was unrelenting in his orders and Wilkie wed another, would I be able to share him or to leave him when the time came?
I thought not. I was too deeply invested in this man to ever be separated from him now and survive it.
His presence in my life was too strong, too all-encompassingly fundamental to go without, now that I had experienced his magnificence.
His blood had mingled with mine, and I had taken his seed into my body.
He was in me, and I could feel him. I was overwhelmed by all that he was.
As Wilkie described me, I considered: you are the sun.
I, too, felt his light and his essence inside myself and all around me, like a newfound life force.
Before those moments when I’d seen and touched him for the first time, by the loch and in the cave, every memory seemed faded and dull.
When Wilkie had stormed his way into my life, darkness had become light.
I realized with some distress that I was no longer willing to live without him.