Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(72)

He couldn’t give her back her family, but he would do whatever it took to make her happy. And maybe one day he would be enough. He vowed nothing would ever tear them apart again.

Perhaps it was the injury or perhaps the result of their lovemaking, but even though it was only the afternoon, when Jamie closed his eyes, he slept.

Chapter 16

“But surely it is too soon?” Caitrina tugged the coverlet up over her br**sts and stared at her husband, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.

He deflected her question with an easy grin. Her heart tugged as it always did; his smiles seemed to come so freely now.

“I hardly think that is necessary,” he said, indicating her attempt to cover herself. “There is no part of you that I have not explored in intimate detail and consigned to memory forever.”

She blushed. Despite their very thorough lovemaking over the past few days, old habits—like modesty—died hard.

The same could not be said for Jamie. There was not a modest bone in his body—his incredibly gorgeous body. He was always so sure of himself; it was one of the things she most admired about him. There was an ease and confidence that came from position, wealth, and power. She’d noticed it from the first. His command and authority had always set him apart.

He’d just bathed, and the damp drying cloth clung to the tight muscles of his bu**ocks and hung loose around his hips. The linen dropped to the floor, and she sucked in her breath. He reached for his shirt and lifted it over his head, the muscles of his chest and back rippling in the soft morning light.

Wretch. He’d tried to distract her, and it had worked. Well, two could play that game. Allowing the coverlet to drop, she slid out of bed and began her own morning preparations. She’d barely slipped her sark over her head before she gasped, feeling his hard body behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist from behind, and she sank against him, the warmth of his breath teasing her neck as his mouth pressed kisses on the pulse below her ear. She supposed this was one way to keep him in bed. “It won’t work, you know,” he murmured in her ear.

She wiggled her hips against his burgeoning erection. “It won’t?”

“No.” He slid his hands over her br**sts and hips. It was the possessive, comfortable touch of a lover. Liquid heat washed over her body. The sensation of his big, strong hands covering her body never ceased to thrill. And when he released her, the disappointment was acute.

She sighed and turned to face him. “But it’s too soon for you to resume your duties. Your shoulder—”

“My shoulder is fine,” he clipped in that authoritative, brook-no-argument voice that he used with his men but rarely with her.

“But—”

“No more, Caitrina.” He gave her a sharp glance. “I took your blasted draught, didn’t I?”

Her mouth twitched, recalling their wee battle. Getting him to drink Mor’s medicine had indeed taken some persuasion. It was amazing what she could accomplish with her hands.

Still, it had been only a few days since his injury. “Yes, but—”

He stopped her protestations with a shake of his head. “I promise to have care, but I will return to my duties today.” He reached out to caress the curve of her cheek. “We can’t stay in here forever, Caitrina.”

Hiding. She lifted her eyes to his, hearing the unspoken admonition. “I know.” He was right. It wasn’t simply his wound that worried her, it was the intrusion of reality into the oasis they’d carved out together in this room. What they had here was not complicated by clan loyalties and duty. Here, nothing could come between them. She was a coward, but she wanted to keep him to herself for a little bit longer.

She sat back on the bed and watched him finish dressing, securing the breacan feile at the shoulder with his chieftain’s badge. His Campbell chieftain’s badge, she realized, recognizing the boar’s head symbolizing their fierceness in battle.

When he was finished, he pulled her to her feet and tipped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“You trust me, don’t you, Caitrina?”

“You know I do.” Many times over the past few days, she’d wanted to try to give voice to her feelings. She was tempted to do so again now, but the words tangled in her mouth. Her emotions were still too encumbered by fear. The scars of the past had yet to heal. And though it was obvious he cared for her deeply, she was not yet sure about the strength of his feelings. She was unwilling to complicate the delicate balance they’d achieved in the past few days.

It was too soon.

“Then we will get through this together.”

She wanted desperately to believe him, but she did not delude herself that it would be easy. She prayed their new bond was strong enough to weather whatever storm life had in store for them, for she feared it would be a big one.

The rain began to fall not an hour later.

Caitrina had just popped the last bit of oatcake in her mouth from breaking her fast when she heard the cry go up that a messenger had arrived. As it was not an unusual occurrence, she hardly paid it any mind.

But as Jamie had just departed the great hall on his way to Ascog, she was surprised to see him reenter the hall a few minutes later. From the grim look on his face, she knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

She stood from the table and rushed to him, heedless of the disapproving glances of Seamus and his men—their resentment palpable. Her newfound intimacy with her husband had not gone unnoticed.