Pledged to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 1)

Royden rushed forward, fearing he wouldn’t reach her on time. He had to bend over to catch her around the waist and the momentum sent him tumbling as well. He had just enough time to twist his body so that he took the brunt of the fall with her landing on top of him.

Oria clung to him for a moment too shocked to move.

“Are you all right?” he asked, fear for his wife’s safety evident in his rushed words.

She lifted her head off his chest. “I should be asking you that. You took the hardest of the fall.”

“I’m good, wife, it is you I’m concerned about.”

“I’m good as well.” She grinned. “But I’ll have you know this is no surrender.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a smile and shake of his head. “It looks like surrender to me.”

“It’s a capture,” she said and moved up and placed her lips just above his. “This, dear husband, is a surrender.” She kissed him and not gently.

After only a minute, Royden forced his mouth away from hers. “If you don’t get off me and we don’t hurry into the keep the whole village is going to see us making a bairn.”

Oria scrambled off her husband, urging him to “Hurry!”

Royden was almost on his feet when his wife stood, winced, and almost toppled over. He grabbed at her side to stop her from tumbling and once on his feet he took hold of her arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.

“My ankle. I must have given it a twist,” she said and was suddenly scooped up in his arms. “I can walk.”

“I didn’t ask you if you could and don’t bother to tell me to put you down. That’s not going to happen.” He turned and headed toward the keep and stopped suddenly.

Oria turned her head, realizing he had seen the tapestry. “I asked Clive where he got it. He bought everything in the cart off another merchant. He never asked the man where he got everything.”

“You were cleaning it to hang in the hall again,” he said.

“Aye. I wanted it in fine shape before it once again graced the wall of the Great Hall.”

“Does he have any more of what is ours?”

Ours.

How one word could touch the heart so much and bring such joy startled Oria. She shook her head, needing a minute to form her words. “I looked through the cart myself. I saw nothing that once belonged here. But you might want to check yourself, since I might not be familiar with everything.” Oria could tell what he was thinking. “Put me down, Royden, and have a look. It’s nothing more than a light sprain. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll tell me if it pains you?”

“I will,” she said and bit her lip before, I promise, spilled out. Some promises served no purpose and this was one of those times.

Royden placed her gently on her feet and didn’t let go of her arm until he was sure she could stand without difficulty.

Oria stepped carefully to the side and smiled. “The pain is minor. As I said, nothing more than a light sprain. I will keep off my feet the rest of the day and it should do well.”

Royden grinned. “I know how I can definitely keep you off your feet.”

“Hurry and look,” she encouraged with a soft laugh.

Royden rummaged through the cart, pushing items aside in search of anything familiar. He was almost finished when something caught his eye. He hurried to clear things to the side, revealing a wooden handle.

Oria could tell with the way her husband looked at the small wooden sword he had yanked out of the cart that it meant something to him.

“It was Arran’s,” he said and turned the sword handle for her to see a fairly straight line carved in the wood and running from the top of the handle to almost where a blade would start and two lines crossing over the top of it. “He carved that into the handle, marking it as his own. I remember the day my da gave it to him. He was so happy. He started practicing with it right away and never stopped. He was proud of this, his first sword.”

“It is good it will be here for Arran’s return home,” Oria said.

“Found something else you like?’ Clive called out, walking toward them.

Royden turned, pointing the wooden sword at him, a hard glare in his eyes. “I found two things that belonged to me.”

“I didn’t know and you can’t blame a man for trying to survive,” Clive said. “I have no fight with you, Chieftain Royden. Take what is yours.”

Oria was about to place her hand on her husband’s arm, hearing the familiar rumble of anger in his voice and stopped when he spoke.

“You’re welcome to sup with us and shelter here the night if you wish,” Royden offered, his glare not as hard, but not completely gone.