Chapter 2
Terror gripped her, and she screamed, swinging her arms at him in blind panic, desperate to get him away from her.
But to her horror, her efforts had the opposite effect.
Instead of going away, he quickly clamped a large, rough hand over her mouth, stifling her frantic cries, and got on top of her.
His huge body covered hers, pinning her to the bed, and rendering her completely immobile.
“Stop screamin’, will ye? ’Tis only me, Edan, yer husband,” the man hissed in her ear.
As the words sank in, Olivia stopped screaming, but her mind reeled.
What?! Edan?! Can it really be him?
“That’s better. Now, wife, will ye promise nae to scream again if I take me hand off yer mouth?”
Recognizing the deep, husky voice as that of her husband, Olivia nodded as best as she could.
“Good.”
The hand was lifted away, and she could breathe again. “Edan, is it truly ye?” she gasped in disbelief, peering up at the face hanging inches above hers in the gloom. “Or am I dreamin’?”
“Och, I’m real all right. Do ye nae ken yer own husband?” he shot back in a harsh whisper, his warm breath fanning her cheeks and, for some reason, making them tingle.
His jibe stung, and she stared up into his eyes a little defiantly. “Nae in the dark, and nae in me bed. If ye recall, ye left before that part a year ago, just after we were wed.”
He nodded. “Aye, so I did. More’s the pity. Olivia,” he said huskily.
The way he said her name sent a shiver through her.
Unsettled by her response, Olivia felt suddenly very vulnerable as his eyes raked slowly over her face and the upper part of her body.
She turned her head to the side to avoid his searching gaze, for despite the modesty her voluminous nightgown offered, she felt stark naked.
He took hold of her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “But this isnae yer bed. ’Tis mine. So, what are ye doin’ in it?”
“It made more sense for me to stay here in yer chambers while ye were away, so I could be closer to Greta’s rooms,” she explained, growing increasingly conscious that having his powerful body covering hers was affecting her in ways she did not quite understand, let alone care to admit.
Not to herself, and definitely not to him.
He let go of her chin and nodded approvingly. “Fair enough.” Then, he said in a different voice that made her cheeks suddenly grow hot, “I’m nae complainin’. What man wouldnae be pleased to come home from battle to find his wife waitin’ for him in his bed, eh?”
Olivia felt deeply unnerved by the way he was looking down at her so intently, his eyes dark and unfathomable. She tried to make out his expression, but what his beard did not conceal was hidden in shadow. However, she somehow knew he was not smiling.
Intimidated but determined not to show it, she replied, “I wasnae waitin’. I was sleepin’. Those are two very different things.”
At the same time, seeing as he was scrutinizing her so closely, she decided she had the right to do the same to him.
Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the light, so she allowed her eyes to rove over his face, just as he was doing to her.
When her eyes drifted down past his chin to his neck and shoulders, they went wide as she suddenly realized something shocking.
Before she could stop it, a small gasp escaped her lips, and she stiffened in alarm beneath the bedclothes, heat coursing through her body.
“What’s the matter?” he asked brusquely, levering himself up slightly and exposing even more of his nakedness.
“W-What happened to yer shirt?” she forced herself to ask, for some reason finding it inexplicably hard to tear her eyes away from the broad expanse of rippling muscle shadowed by a liberal dusting of dark hair that was only inches away from her face.
Somehow, she succeeded in dragging her gaze back to his face and made sure it remained there. It hung above hers like a dark moon. Cast in deep shadow, the mesh of scars on his face was not so noticeable, and despite his beard, his strong, imposing features showed through.
Something struck her. “’Tis the first time I’ve seen ye in a year, and I didnae get much chance to look at ye on our weddin’ day before ye had to leave.”
A vivid memory suddenly came back to her of standing at the altar and the shock she had felt upon seeing her husband’s face for the first time.
It was so fearsome and intimidating, so monstrous, that she had immediately averted her eyes.
But the impression of cold, brooding darkness was already engraved on her mind, along with the complex fretwork of scarring that left not an inch of his skin untouched.
She had thought him monstrous!
Now, as her curious gaze traveled across his scarred features, he remained still and silent, letting her drink her fill. There was a prideful tilt to his lips that said he knew he was monstrous, beastly. And he did not care.
Despite her apprehension about his return, Olivia found herself secretly admiring him for it. He chose to invoke fear not pity, suggesting he was as strong inside as he was outside.
Aye, his looks are intimidatin’, but he’s nae a monster. He won those scars in battle, through bravery. He must be a great warrior. Perhaps it serves him well if his scars make folks afraid of him. But I’m nae afraid.
The scars were an indelible part of him, a history of violence both meted out and endured inscribed on his skin for all to read. But the marks on a man’s skin did not define him, she knew. It was what was inside that truly counted.
Hardly aware of what she was doing, she reached up and touched his cheek gently with her fingertips, feeling the ridges of the scars beneath them.
“Ye really are here,” she murmured, suddenly full of wonder.
He let out a long exhale. “Aye, I’m really here.”
She dropped her hand, feeling an odd tenderness towards him. “Ye look tired. Have ye had to travel far to get home?” she asked solicitously.
She could tell at once by the almost imperceptible tic in his jaw that he was taken aback by her reaction. Or rather, the lack of it.
Is he annoyed that I’m nae scared?
“Aye, a few days’ ride,” he answered in a grudging tone.
“Ye must be hungry as well.”
He gave her an impatient look. “Aye, I’m hungry all right. For me bed. I came here to sleep, and I found ye here, remember?”
Olivia ignored the observation, for it was now beginning to sink in that she had been wrong, very wrong to doubt his return. Unbelievable as it seemed, her husband was very much alive, and he had come back to her, to claim her as his wife! Just as Greta had said he would all along.
I shouldnae have doubted him. But how do ye keep believin’ in someone who’s a stranger to ye?
Perhaps it was in pursuit of answers to that silent question that brought her long-suppressed curiosity to the fore. Before she knew what she was doing, she began firing questions at him.
“Where have ye been? Why did ye nae answer me letters? Did ye win the war? Will ye have to go away again?”
“Ach, will ye stop with yer questions?” he burst out irritably. “I dinnae have time to answer them all now.”
Her frustration at his attitude boiled over into anger. “Why nae? Have ye got somethin’ better to do than talk to yer wife?” she snapped back. “If ye have, then why do ye nae get off me? I can hardly breathe!”
Seething, she began wriggling violently beneath him, determined to break free.
In response, without any visible effort, he somehow managed to increase the pressure pinning her down. When she opened her mouth to protest, she looked into his dark eyes, so close to hers, and instantly shut it, ceasing to move as cold apprehension flooded her body once more.
Who is this stranger who has me in his grasp?
She could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears as he continued staring down at her wordlessly.
I have nay idea what he’s capable of if I dinnae do exactly what he wants.
And what that might be, she did not even dare to imagine.
The air around them seemed to crackle with almost suffocating tension as she lay trapped there, afraid of what he might do next. To her intense relief, after a few more moments of silence, he finally spoke.
“I’m tired, and I need to sleep. Ye should leave me in peace and go to yer chambers.”
That took her aback.
“But-But I’ve never slept there,” she said nervously. “I’m used to this chamber, and all me things are here.”
But he merely shrugged. “Ye’re welcome to sleep here if ye want, but only if ye agree nae to ask me any more questions.”
Unexpectedly, a strange, hot shiver ran through her as she found herself actually considering staying with him.
He is me husband, after all.
Although he was intimidating in both looks and manner, she had to admit that there was something about him that drew her in. His powerful masculine energy called to her in ways she did not understand, and her body responded.
But there was another part of her that recoiled at the notion of sleeping with a stranger, even if she happened to be married to him. It was that part that won out in the end.
But there was more to her decision. Even in the dim light, she could clearly see the marks of exhaustion on his face, and despite her wariness, she suddenly felt pity for him.
“All right, I’ll leave and go back to the other chamber. But do ye promise to answer me questions tomorrow?”
She was disappointed when no such promise was forthcoming and Edan merely grunted. However, he did finally roll off her to the other side of the bed. He propped himself up against the pillows, clearly waiting for her to leave.
Inexplicably, Olivia felt the loss at once, missing his enveloping weight and heat.
But when she climbed out of bed and looked at him sitting there, his chest naked, a wave of heat crashed over her, leaving her flustered. Averting her eyes from the strangely stirring sight, she grabbed her robe and put it on.