Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(8)

So she held the courage she’d cultivated tightly to her chest and felt something that had been missing since the day Robert had told her she couldn’t ride out with the men.

Contentment.

A sense of belonging.

She realized that she’d been longing for it, and now she felt at ease again, as if she’d found a part of herself she’d thought was broken away. It wasn’t. Even if she was separated from the training yard, everything she had learned was still hers and could never be taken from her because she’d earned it.

The moment she closed her eyes, she saw him again.

Rolfe McTavish.

Out in the darkness, he’d been a brute, to be sure. Not that she doubted he was any less fearsome by the light of day, but the night hours cast things in a way that made them seem more intense. That had to be the reason why she would have sworn she still felt his fingers on her skin.

He’d touched her for a mere moment. Moon madness was the explanation for why it lingered in her thoughts.

She’d heard his name many times. He’d held Helen for ransom when Marcus had first brought Katherine to the Highlands. She had been barely fourteen at the time, and grateful to Marcus for not wedding her as the Earl of Morton had demanded. Katherine had been too young, and Marcus had been outraged. He had stolen her away into the Highlands to ensure she’d have time to grow up.

She was doubly grateful tonight because Marcus had trained her. Rolfe McTavish would have been sending another ransom note if she hadn’t known how to escape.

But she had, and she fell asleep with that truth warming her.

*

“Ye allowed Katherine to leave the kitchens?”

Marcus arrived in their bedchamber, demanding an answer to his question before the door closed. Helen shot him a hard look of reprimand because he’d startled their babe. Roderick opened his eyes and let out a wail. Helen cradled him close as she rocked him, waiting for him to close his eyes once more. Marcus waited while she settled the infant in his cradle, caught in the moment, still finding it hard to believe that he was so fortunate.

His wife turned to him, lifting one eyebrow. “Do ye think I have any more stomach for crushing her spirit than ye do?”

Marcus didn’t miss the point of her reply. He’d braced his feet wide and crossed his arms over his chest, but now he ran a hand over his head. He kept his hair cut short so it couldn’t be grabbed in a fight.

“Ye’re right.” He placed his sword by their bed and checked on Rae before sitting down next to her.

“The kitchens are an unkind place to put her now,” Helen continued. “She lacks the skill of the other women her age.”

“Because I allowed her to train,” Marcus finished as he set his boots aside. He turned and considered their second son. “I think it might be a good thing that we have only sons. I seem to have no wisdom when it comes to raising lasses.”

“I’ll have a daughter,” Helen warned him. “Don’t be thinking to deny me one.”

Marcus slowly grinned at her. It was a wicked one that she enjoyed seeing on his face.

“Well now, Wife,” he began in a deep voice that warmed her blood, “ye know I hate to leave ye unsatisfied.”

Helen snorted at him as she was drifting off into sleep. “I do nae believe that nonsense.”

“That ye only conceive daughters when a man leaves his woman unsatisfied?” Marcus clarified.

Helen opened her eyes and looked at him. “We are going to have to move Rae to a different chamber with the way ye talk.”

“Ye mean with the way I pleasure ye.”

She made a little sound of agreement under her breath. “As for Katherine, what is yer quarrel with her working with the hawks?”

“It’s in the stables, a place where men are often rougher in their words.”

Helen scoffed at him. “Katherine has been training in the yard for nearly six years. If ye were concerned with her hearing about lust, ye are far too late, and I don’t doubt that she has seen everything there is to see about what is beneath a kilt.”

“Aye,” Marcus agreed as he pulled her close and inhaled the scent of her hair. “As I already admitted, I do nae seem to have much wisdom about where a lass should and should no’ be.”

“Ye were thinking of her English blood and the hatred of it here in the Highlands.”

Marcus nodded. “I was. Fate has given the lass a hard hand to play. Bastard born to a noble, no less, and with her mother lowborn, her noble stepmother will not be wishing her good health.”

“The Earl of Morton would no’ have found it simple to steal her away and keep her if that weren’t so,” Helen agreed. “She’s been left to whatever fate Scotland holds for her. She was far too young for that.”

“I knew it was nae correct to train her, and still, I could nae argue with the sense of it.” Marcus spoke softly. “But now, well, she’s a woman grown and can no’ hide it.”

“Who does nae know how to be a woman,” Helen finished. “Nor does any of the clan treat her like one.”

Marcus’s hand stilled on her hip. “Well, now, that’s something I do know a bit about. I’ll see to it tomorrow.”

“See to what?” Helen asked.

But her husband had lost interest in the conversation, now that he’d come to a conclusion. He was far more interested in stroking her body and bringing it to life as he always did. Helen lost track of anything beyond knowing that they needed to move their children to another chamber soon, because time had not dulled the reaction she had to her husband, and she still could not keep her cries of delight to herself.