Highlander’s Captive (Highlander Trilogy 3)

“Dawn’s urging you to tell her what is troubling you,” Old Mary said with empathy in her aged-eyes.

The constriction in her throat dissipated with the two women’s heartfelt compassion and she found herself eagerly sharing her concern. “I have a husband I did not know I had, and I now learn I am to be an aunt and strangers knew all this before I did.”

“What do you mean you have a husband you didn’t know you had?” Old Mary asked while Dawn patted her chest and shook her head.

Wintra looked from one to the other. “Neither one of you knew that I am Torr’s wife?”

They both shook their heads.

“No one has heard such news,” Old Mary assured her, “for if they did I would have known about it. Nothing gets passed me in this village.”

Dawn nodded, agreeing with the old woman.

“I heard them say that the King decreed it. What I do not understand is why the King would do such a thing. Is my brother beholding to him for something?

Dawn began gesturing and Old Mary interpreted. “Torr probably knows why and will explain it to you. He is a good man, not because he is my brother, but because he has proven himself to be. He will make a good husband.”

“Because he has to,” Wintra said sadly. She was not ready to share the fact that she had fallen in love with him or he with her. Or had he? No doubt she would continue to debate that question over and over since it continued to torment her. And hearing he was a good man and knowing it for herself only proved that he would do his duty and wed her whether he loved her or not.

The door burst open then, startling the women, and the whoosh of cold wind sent the fire’s flames dancing wildly. Cree ducked his head to enter, the width of his shoulders filling the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded and walked over to Dawn, his arm going gently around her waist and lifting her off the chair to rest against him. “You should be in our bedchamber resting.”

Wintra watched as Dawn’s hands spoke for her and was surprised when Cree answered her as if she had spoken aloud.

“I understand you wanted to meet my sister and that you feel you are fine, but you fainted—”

Dawn’s hand started moving again.

“Presently we are talking about you, not my sister and Torr. I will address that issue when I finish with you,” Cree said.

Wintra did not need anyone to interpret Dawn’s response, her gesture was obvious when she crossed her arms over her chest and folded her lips tightly in her mouth.

Cree planted his face in front of Dawn’s until their noses almost touched. “We are not finished until I say we are finished.”

Wintra shivered, recalling that tone of voice. When she was young, it was that tone that had warned her to push no further, obey him or else. She had never bothered or had the courage to find out what else meant. So she was surprised when Dawn dropped her arms and started gesturing, not showing a bit of fear for Cree’s tone.

“It is not your brother’s place to explain to Wintra; it is mine.”

Wintra turned to see Torr standing in front of the closed door. He seemed bigger, broader, taller to her, and his scar more dominate on his handsome face. Had she not bothered to truly see him? Was this man—her husband—standing only a few feet from her the man she had thought he was, or was he a stranger?

He took a cautious step toward her.

She slid off the chair and hurried around to the other side of the table.

He did not like that she was using the table as if it was a shield keeping him at bay. Nothing would stop him from reaching her, certainly not a puny table.

“I want my brother to explain,” Wintra insisted.

“No,” Torr commanded. “Everyone will take their leave now. It is time you and I talked.”

Old Mary hurriedly left the cottage as Cree turned to Torr and said. “I will talk with my sister.”

“Tomorrow,” Torr said with a warning glint in his eyes.

Cree looked ready to argue when Dawn took his hand and tugged at it.

“All of you go,” Wintra demanded, having had enough for one day. “I want to be alone.”

Cree slipped his arm around Dawn’s waist and led her to the door, though he stopped before opening it. “We will talk, Wintra, and that is not a request.” He opened the door and turned to Torr.

“I am not going anywhere,” Torr said.

“I do not want you here,” Wintra said with an angry snarl.

“It does not matter. I am staying.”

“I want to be alone.”

“I am staying,” he repeated adamantly.

“Cree,” she said looking to him for help.