Page 63 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“She died?”
“Aye. But me faither did nae grieve fer her. He laughed when he told me I’d never see her again.”
Davina grew silent, her eyes fixed on the flames, and when she turned to him, the tears were gone. Her face was drawn and her jaw was set in a tight line.
“Me faither hates me. He wanted me dead. He tried tae drown me in the burn, holding me beneath the flowing water. I remember the water filling me nostrils, the fear as I couldnae breath, the feel of the pebbles at the bottom of the burn, pressing against me face.”
Everard could only groan at the picture of horror she painted. “I ken now, why ye have such a fear of water.” He grew cold at the thought of what she’d endured at the hands of the man who should have been her protector. “How did ye manage tae escape him?”
“It was me braither Tòrr. He was but a lad, but he fought hard tae free me from our faither’s brutal cruelty. He managed tae drag me from the stream. I could scarcely walk, but he took me in me sodden clothes from the burn. He placed me in his little boat and rowed across tae Iona. Then he carried me in his arms tae the Priory. He saved me.”
She moaned, trembling all over, as she proffered this revelation. It was if the vicious attempt on her life had only just happened and she was again at the gate of the Priory, wet, cold and terrified.
“God’s hooks, Davina.” Everard rose to his feet. He laid a hand on the mantel above the fire and pressed his forehead there, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to keep his fury and his deep sorrow and pity from overwhelming him.
He took a seat on the footstool before her and took both her hands in his. She clutched his and look at him with fear-filled eyes.
“Davina, ye’re safe now. Yer faither cannae reach ye. The men who hunted cannae reach ye. The gates tae the castle are bolted, me men are standing guard and me Gockman, Ranald Dunbar, has dispatched his crewmen tae patrol the water.”
He moved into the chair beside hers and tugged her hand. “Come.” She stood and he scooped her into his arms and sat her on his lap. He held her close and she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder.
It was some time before the tightness she held in her body loosened. As she sagged against him, her breathing became even and slow. She did not sleep but stayed quietly, like a child, nestling snug and safe in his arms.
He vowed then, that whatever it took, he would keep her safe for the rest of his days.
But, he acknowledged, there were still puzzles to be solved, just as she’d said.
Why did Murchadh MacKinnon hate his daughter? Who was her mother and what sad fate had befallen her?
Tomorrow was market day. He would journey to the village and find Jacob, the tinker, who should have had returned by then from Iona. With any luck, the lad would have more information for him that might put paid to some of the mysteries still to be unraveled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
He dozed, her rose fragrance intoxicating his senses and her hair tickling his nose.
When she finally stirred, he was awake in a trice. He stood, stretched, yawned, stoked the fire and placed another log on the hearth.
He held out a hand. “Come lass. Ye’ll sleep more comfortably in me bed.”
She shook her head. “Nay. I’m nae longer ill, I’m well enough fer me own cottage. I thank ye, but I fear the wagging tongues of the gossips, and I’m nae ready tae face them yet.”
Dammit. The idea of keeping her close, was lost along with the smoke up the chimney.He nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment. Of course, she should go back to her cottage. It was only right.
The trouble was, he wouldn’t sleep a wink for worrying about her. And for longing to have her beside him.
He huffed, and reached for his cloak. By the time he’d shoved his feet into his boots and tied the laces, she was wrapped in her cloak, standing at the door, Feather’s little basket in her hands.
“I thank ye fer all yer concern, Everard. Ye have been so kind and I am indebted tae ye once again. I can only hope that ne’er again are ye required tae rescue me from drowning.” She offered a cheeky grin.
“I pray each day that rescuing ye will ne’er again be required.”
She turned to go, but he placed his hand on the latch. “May I have a kiss fer me troubles before ye are gone?”
Without another word she lowered Feather’s basket to the floor and turned up her face, eyes closed.
He swung her into his arms and took her mouth into a long and leisurely kiss. She sighed into his mouth as he pressed her close against him, her soft curves yielding to his hardness in a way that set his pulse racing.
“I shall miss yer warm sweetness beside me,” he managed, as they pulled apart to attend to the small matter of drawing in a breath.
