Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(65)
At the rate they were going, a child would be a miracle.
Jamie had just reentered the hall and was heading straight for Caitrina when he overheard her unexpected defense of him and experienced a flare of hope.
It was the first sign he’d had in the almost week since they’d been at Ascog that she might be softening. He’d begun to wonder whether he’d done the right thing in removing himself from her bed. He’d wanted to give her time, to make her realize that what they had was special. To miss not only their lovemaking but him. The long, cold nights, however, had begun to chafe. He worked himself almost to the point of collapse every day to take his mind off his lovely bride, but her constant presence was like a burr under his saddle.
He was too damn aware of her and found himself watching her at the most inopportune times. His only conciliation was that he knew she watched him, too. It felt less that they were man and wife and more like two cagey lions circling each other.
At times, he felt as if he were watching a completely different person from the one he’d first met. Gone was the pampered and indulged lass dripping with silks and laces, and in her place was a determined young woman who swabbed floors all day long in a gown not fit for a servant. For a girl who’d once dressed like a princess, the change was startling. Despite his repeated offers of new clothing and jewels, nothing she wore bore any signs of wealth. Her hair, which had once been twisted in elaborate arrangements, was now tied back simply at her nape with a thin, tattered black ribbon and had lost its lustrous shine.
But the changes went far deeper than appearance. At one time he’d thought her oblivious of what was going on around her, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was surprised by how perceptive she was of her people’s needs. From organizing the men to aid the women who’d lost husbands in the attack with their fields or livestock to offering a hug or the squeeze of a hand in comfort—Caitrina was there.
The open display of love and affection he’d once witnessed her shower on her family had transferred to her clan.
Yet rightly or wrongly, Jamie craved it for himself.
The destruction of her home and family had forced her to grow up and take on more responsibility. He could admire the woman she’d become, but not all the changes were welcome. She’d been disillusioned, and there was nothing he could do to give her back her youthful naïveté. He would do anything to see joy in her eyes, untainted by sadness and loss.
But his more immediate concern was her health. He could see the signs of weariness on her pale face and knew she was probably getting as little sleep as he. She was working too damn hard, and he wasn’t going to sit around and let her drive herself to exhaustion.
She’d claimed once that he’d wanted her as a possession, as a pretty ornament to have by his side. If there had ever been a hint of truth in her appraisal, there wasn’t any now. He would be proud to have her by his side, not for her beauty, but for her strength and resilience. For her spirit and passion. For the drive that matched his own. And for the compassion he’d witnessed countless times this past week with her clan. It was she who comforted, even though she had lost more than anyone.
His desire for her had nothing to do with possession and everything to do with how she made him feel—she’d touched a part of him he hadn’t even known existed. Feeling. Emotion. Sentiment. All these things had been alien to him until he’d met Caitrina.
He’d never noticed how alone he’d been.
The very first time they’d made love, he’d known she was different. He’d lusted for many women, but none had ever made him want to hold her in his arms forever. Never had passion and emotion been entwined. When he came inside her, he felt not just physical pleasure, but pleasure that claimed every part of his body and soul.
At least that was the way it had been for him.
Her claim that she’d come to him out of duty still stung.
Duty. How could one word wield such a powerful blow?
The irony, of course, was that duty was the tenet he held most sacred. Duty to his chief, to his clan, to his family. To his wife.
Never had he expected it would be wielded against him with such devastating effect.
He didn’t want her duty, he wanted her love and desire. He wanted her of her own free will—because she wanted to, not because she had to.
He’d been angry with her a few days ago, impatient with her for not seeing him for what he was. But she needed time. After losing so much, naturally she would be scared to love again.
He’d vowed to hold out until she came to him, but with each day that passed, his temper was getting progressively more strained—at any moment ready to explode. He felt like a bear roused in the middle of winter. Hungry.
He drew closer, but they’d yet to notice him.
Seamus answered her, lowering his voice. “A babe is n—” He stopped midsentence, sensing Jamie’s presence, and turned to meet his gaze.
Jamie arched a brow. “Don’t let me interrupt. You were saying?”
Seamus smiled. “I was just commenting that we will all look forward to the day when a Lamont rules again over Ascog.”
That wasn’t what he was going to say at all, but Jamie was already on his guard where the Lamont’s embittered guardsman was concerned. “A day that will be a long time in coming,” Jamie countered. “And one that might never come if we don’t get this roof on.”