Entrusted to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 2)

She had to remind herself how long it had taken her to discover her own intelligence, to finally feel free of her father’s dictates, and to finally feel whole. Arran had been whole and his five years in capture had torn him apart. He was only beginning to put all the pieces back together. And she would see that those pieces stayed together.

Arran swung his sword at the practice post again and again, the muscles in his arms screaming for him to stop. Two days since Brynjar’s visit and his words still reverberated in his head.

Don’t tell me killing didn’t come easily to you or that you cared for those you felled with your sword. I knew, given time, you could be more evil than me.

After a while killing had come easier to him. He had swung his sword without thought or reason, nor did he care who it felled. He had stepped over dead and dying bodies, their faces all the same to him and his heart cold to them.

Rage roared to the surface and he swung his sword with a roar and the top of the post went flying to roll along the ground like that of a severed head. His nostrils flared at the sudden odor that struck him—the blood, sweat, and excrements of death. It was so thick after battle he wondered if the disgusting odor would ever leave him.

It hadn’t. It had come back to haunt him often—until Purity.

So much had changed since he’d been with her and yet he truly hadn’t changed. That warrior who had killed so easily and cared for nothing was still part of him and Brynjar had reminded him of that.

He swung again at the post, paying no heed to the light rain that had begun to fall. He was too busy staring at his hands that had killed so many—evil hands—and hands that had touched his wife supposedly with love. How could he love when he hadn’t cared for anything?

He had no right to touch Purity, to stain her with his evil. She didn’t deserve that. He lowered his sword and realized the light rain had turned heavier, the droplets splashing against his naked chest. He had removed his shirt before he had begun to practice with intentions of working up a sweat that would drench him. He had hoped if he beat the practice post with his sword enough it might chase the rage that had consumed him from when last he had spoken with Brynjar.

It hadn’t been easy avoiding his wife these last couple of days, but he had managed. However, he knew a confrontation was soon to come. How did he explain that it was for her own good that he kept his distance from her and not taint her with his hands that had brought so much pain and death to others? She wouldn’t understand. She would think to explain it away or somehow excuse it, and that wasn’t possible.

“YOU’RE A COWARD, ARRAN, AND I’M ASHAMED TO HAVE YOU AS MY HUSBAND!”

Arran turned, not believing what his wife shouted at him. He was glad the rain had driven everyone inside and no one was about to hear her. He also realized that she had to have been standing there for a while since the rain had almost soaked through her hair and garments. He wondered then how long had it been since the rain turned heavy. How long had he ignored everything around him, including hearing his wife approach?

She marched up to him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger as she let loose her anger on him. “You’re a coward not facing me, not talking to me, avoiding me completely. We had found our way, you and me together, talking and sharing even things we may not want to hear. You have no right hiding away from me.”

“I have every right. You are good and kind and you don’t deserve to be touched by evil. You will keep your distance from me. Now go in the keep and stay there,” he ordered harshly and turned his back on her, though his heart ached doing so.

Purity had felt rage through the years but nothing like she felt now and she let it take hold and lashed out. She shoved him in the back with all her might and sent him stumbling.

Arran was caught off guard and lost his balance almost falling, but quickly righted himself and kept himself on his feet. He couldn’t believe his wife had shoved him like that. She had to be more than angry with him since he had never known her to strike out like that, not ever. Strangely, he understood. Hadn’t that been what he’d done when anger consumed him beyond reason? He turned on her, raising his hand and pointing. “Go to the keep NOW!”