Page 43 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Had it meant nothing to him? Or was he playing one of his usual games, reeling her in, catching her unaware, then punishing her?

Even now, she wasn’t sure what wounded her more, the poison or not knowing who her husband was. Himself. Or someone playing at him.

Her eyes grew heavy. Brenna cautioned her that she would probably sleep much of the day, her body needing rest to regain its strength. The problem had been that her thoughts refused to let her rest, until now. She didn’t fight sleep, instead, she welcomed the peace it would bring her.

Esme didn’t knowwhat woke her, but her eyes drifted open to see her husband had moved the chair close to the bed and was sitting there staring at her.

“You should come to bed. You look tired,” she said baffled that she invited him to join her.

He didn’t hesitate. He shed his garments and slipped beneath the blankets and wrapped himself around her, tucking her close.

That she found comfort and safety, once again, in his strong embrace surprised her and she drifted back asleep baffled by their strange situation.

CHAPTER 12

“What are you doing out of bed?” Torrance demanded, striding into the Great Hall, his steps echoing with authority.

“It has been three days, my lord, and I am feeling much better. I simply cannot abide another day in bed,” Esme said, sitting at the table nearest the hearth. The fire’s warmth was comforting, and she soaked it in while her fingers curled around a tankard.

Torrance’s eyes narrowed as his glance dropped to the table, seeing a half-eaten bowl of porridge. “What do you eat and drink? Who tasted it before giving it to you?”

“Brenna saw to it before she was called away to tend to a birth,” she responded, hoping that he would not order her back to bed since she had left it without his permission.

“You disobeyed my orders to remain in bed until I said otherwise,” he admonished, though was pleased to see her cheeks wore their usual soft blush.

She was ready to offer an apology, as usual, but he spoke before she could.

“I am pleased you are feeling well enough to be up and about, but don’t disobey me again,” he cautioned with a slight scowl.

She lowered her gaze. “Aye, my lord.”

Torrance dropped down on the bench opposite her at the table and a servant hurried to fill a tankard for him with hot cider from the jug on the table.

“I have given more thought to that old woman you told me about and decided to make the journey and see what we can find out. But not until you are well enough to travel.” He raised his hand when she rushed to respond. “You are well enough when I say that you are. I will not have you traveling in the cold and turn worse because of it.”

The situation with her husband continued to baffle her. Torrance never cared if she took ill. He would actually get annoyed at her if she wasn’t feeling well. Tell her she was weak. That he had helped her, was concerned for her, when she had taken ill had shocked her. He also had insisted she remained in his bedchamber, and he had visited with her throughout the day to see how she was doing. That was something she never thought Torrance would do. So, again she questioned her suspicions. Though she could not ignore the possibility that he was playing some evil game with her. But why? To what end?

“Esme, you are not paying heed to me,” Torrance snapped.

She jumped at his sharp voice.

“Are you not feeling well?” he asked, annoyed. “You should not have gotten out of bed yet.”

“I am fine, my lord. My mind simply wanders.”

“Not when I am speaking to you,” he admonished, shook his head, then reached for her hand.

His fingers curled around hers and she watched as annoyance faded from his eyes replaced by concern. The change was startling as if a mask had dropped off his face and revealed another behind it.

“You will take care, wife, I need you,” he said, squeezing her hand gently.

His heart-felt words left her speechless since she actually believed he meant it, but then his mask suddenly returned along with his cold demeanor, and he let go of her hand.

“I need you to give me an heir.”

She bit her tongue ready to remind him that she was not the one failing to do her duty, but she feared the consequences of such careless words. She was relieved when Una entered the room with determined strides, her expression tight with purpose.

“My lord,” Una said, dipping her head only slightly before stopping short of the table. “I have news.”

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