Brenda Joyce - Highlanders Collection

He still heard the screams in his memory, the unthinkable images branded into his mind. Darkness held nothing but horror for him, and he supposed it was little wonder that he couldn’t trust himself to close his eyes.

Instead, he’d spent the hours thinking about his wife. The years had transformed her from a bright-eyed girl into a woman who took his breath away. Her kiss had melted away any ability to think clearly and it was a wonder he’d managed to leave her at all.

Even now, his hands were shaking at the thought of touching her. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay her down upon the bed and claim her body with his.

And though he had that right as her husband, she wasn’t ready to lie with him. Not when they were strangers to one another.

His father’s advice on their wedding night drifted into his mind. You’ll know what to do, Tavin had said. Trust your instincts.

If he’d surrendered to his instincts last night, he’d have pulled back the coverlet and used his mouth to taste every last inch of Nairna’s body. And wouldn’t that have shocked his innocent wife?

He wished to God that he’d had even a single night with her, but there’d been no time after he’d left the wedding. His eagerness to fight alongside his father had meant abandoning his new wife in their wedding bed. They’d never consummated the marriage, though their families hadn’t known it.

So many foolish mistakes.

Now, he understood why his father hadn’t wanted him to join in the battle. A hotheaded, untrained lad of sixteen wasn’t ready to face English soldiers. Tavin MacKinloch had shielded him, taking the sword that would have ended Bram’s life.

He’d fallen to his knees before his father’s body, not even caring when he’d been captured. The blood of his father had stained his hands and there was naught that would bring Tavin back again.

The only atonement was to keep the promise he’d made, to look after Callum. The back of his neck began to itch, as if the heavy iron band still encircled it. Bram swallowed hard, forcing away the dark memories.

His gaze settled upon his scarred wrists. No doubt Nairna would be horrified when she saw the rest of him. The more he thought of it, the more he wondered if he had any right to be here.

Did she still want him as her husband? She’d pushed him back last night and he didn’t know if it was shyness or an aversion to him. What if she’d gone on with her life, remembering him as nothing more than a mistake she’d made, years ago?

Bram closed his eyes, lowering his gaze to the ground. The desire for a life with Nairna went bone-deep, as if she could somehow bring him redemption.

Though he hadn’t slept at all, an anxious energy filled his veins with the need to be with her again, to convince himself that he hadn’t been dreaming.

Footsteps entered the stable, and Bram jerked to his feet, his hand reaching for a dagger that wasn’t there.

Hamish MacPherson, the chief of Ballaloch, stood at the doorway, his eldest son Malcolm behind him. Nairna was nowhere to be seen.

‘You didn’t have to sleep in the stables, lad,’ the chief chided. With a shrewd gaze, he inspected Bram from head to toe before gripping him in an embrace of welcome. ‘It’s good to see you again. By God, we all thought you were dead. Where were you all of these years?’

‘Cairnross,’ he answered. Raising his wrists, he revealed the scars of his years of captivity.

From the grim look on Hamish’s face, the man understood. ‘I won’t ask how you escaped. But you’re fortunate Harkirk’s men didn’t strike you down.’

Bram said nothing, for he remembered little of what had happened after he’d been hooded. One moment, he’d felt the cold metal of a blade against his throat, and the next, he’d opened his eyes to find Nairna standing over him.

The chief kept talking, and the words blended together. Something about them being glad he had returned and more words about Nairna. Bram tried to piece the conversation together, but hunger and lack of sleep made it difficult to concentrate.

A sober expression came over the chief’s face and he made the sign of the cross. ‘It’s a good thing that Iver MacDonnell is gone, God rest him. That would have made a mess of everything.’

Bram had no idea what Hamish was talking about, and at his blank look the chief cursed. ‘She didn’t tell you, did she?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Nairna married the MacDonnell chief four years ago. He died last summer.’ Hamish shook his head, adding, ‘Though I suppose their marriage was never legal, since you were still alive.’ He rubbed the beard on his face, thinking to himself. ‘I’ll speak to Father Garrick about it and ask what’s to be done.’

Bram didn’t hear anything else Hamish said. A low buzzing filled his ears and he felt as if someone had knocked him to the ground.

She’d married someone else. And worse, she’d said nothing about it.

It grated upon Bram’s temper, the knowledge shredding apart his control. He’d wanted to believe Nairna had waited for him. That there had never been anyone else.

He’d been wrong.

Rage tore down any rational feelings. It made him wish the MacDonnell chief were still alive, just so Bram could kill him for touching what belonged to him. The bastard had claimed her virginity, and the longer he thought about it, the more Bram’s anger grew.

It took everything he had to keep his face impassive, burying the fury deep inside. When he saw Nairna, he fully intended to confront her about it.

‘I’m taking Nairna back with me,’ he told the chief.

‘You’ll want her dowry as well,’ Hamish commented, his mouth twisted into a dark smile. ‘Seeing as you left before you could collect it.’

God’s bones, he hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Right now, he was itching to talk to her, to learn what had happened during the past seven years. And why she’d married another man.

The coins weren’t important, but until he knew what the circumstances were at Glen Arrin, it was best to be prepared. ‘I’ll take the dowry with me when we go back.’

Hamish raised an eyebrow. ‘She won’t have as much as before. And she’ll lose her widow’s portion when her stepson learns that the marriage wasn’t a true one.’

Another disconcerting thought occurred to Bram. ‘Did she … have any bairns?’

‘There were no children from the union.’

Hamish looked uncomfortable and Bram let out the breath he’d been holding. He half-hoped it was because her husband was impotent. ‘Where is Nairna now?’

‘Inside her chamber. She sent us to find you.’ The chief reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘But you needn’t worry about the MacDonnells. I’ll talk to their chief and work out the details of Nairna’s property.’

‘She’s not returning to them,’ Bram swore. ‘They can keep whatever they want, but Nairna stays with me.’

The corners of Hamish’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m glad you’ve come back, Bram. For I’m thinking you’re just what Nairna needs right now.’

Nairna’s hands were buried in her trunk, while she sorted her stockings by colour. First, all the dark colours, then the lighter ones, and last, the heavy woollen stockings she wore only in the winter. She rolled them up into tight, neat balls, arranging them into rows. Though she’d already packed her belongings yesterday, this was the only thing she could do to keep her nerves under control.

Last night after Bram had left, she’d lain awake, thinking about him. It almost seemed as if she’d imagined him kissing her. For so long, she’d held on to memories of the past, but those visions were nothing like the man who had taken possession of her lips, seizing his right to touch her.