Lucy Monroe - Moon Craving

“What of the other clansmen? They are with him, aren’t they?”

“They are hunting, but not with their laird.”

“Oh.” She didn’t understand it but merely added the instance to the growing list of things these strange Highlanders did and said that made little sense to her. “I see. Why aren’t you hunting?”

“I am guarding you.”

“Oh.” She said again, when nothing more fitting came to her. Then she shrugged. She could not expect Talorc to dance attendance on her. And honestly, the less time she spent in his company, the less chance he would have to learn her secret. “Can you guard me on a walk? We have spent so much time riding, I crave the exercise of stretching my legs.”

“If that is your wish.”

“It is.”

So, they walked and she asked Niall questions about what she should expect once they reached the clan.

He shrugged. “The Sinclairs have little love for the English. I fear your sister did not enjoy her short stay among us.”

“She called Talorc a goat.”

“Aye. It did not endear her to our people.” Though Niall seemed more amused than offended by Emily’s behavior.

“Will they judge me as harshly?”

“Some will, but most will accept you because you are their laird’s wife.”

“Wasn’t Emily his fiancée?”

“He showed no desire or intention to follow through on the marriage. His followers acted accordingly.”

“But he and I are married.”

“Aye. He calls you his. It will make a difference for many.”

But not all. The big warrior might as well have shouted the unspoken caveat.

Niall let out a deep sigh that surprised her, but his words shocked her even more. “I do not want your feelings to be hurt.”

“Um . . . thank you.”

He laughed. She couldn’t hear the sound, but recognized the expression coupled with the movement in his Adam’s apple. “You do not understand my concern for you.”

She shook her head. She didn’t. Her own mother had not cared if Abigail found acceptance in the Highlands, why should this battle-scarred warrior? She asked him as much.

“You are good for Talorc. You two are connected in ways neither of you are ready to acknowledge.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I believe you are a romantic, big, fierce Niall.”

He merely shrugged.

But she grinned, knowing she was right. “So, is there a maiden who awaits your return?”

“Many, but none who have claim to do so.” A strange expression took his features, a mixture of sadness and yearning.

Abigail’s heart twisted at the sight. “There is one you wished did.”

Again, that annoying, enigmatic shrug. But she saw the truth in his eyes. She was right. He was pining. She wished she knew how to help him, but she did not imagine he would welcome the interference of a deaf Englishwoman into his love life.

“So, tell me about your family,” she said.

“There is just me and my brother Barr now. Sean died in the battle that left me this.” He indicated his scar. “And our father in the battle that took our previous laird.”

“What of your mother?”

“She died birthing Barr and I. Two babies at once were too much for her human nature.”

What an odd way to put it. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Growing up without a mother must have been difficult.”

“Easier than growing up with that harpy that gave you birth, I’d say.”

“She was not always so cruel. I . . .” Abigail bit her lip and fought the urge to tell the truth. Despite her years of practice at hiding her affliction, lying did not sit well with her. “I disappointed her.”

“Then she is a fool.”

Abigail wanted to believe that was true. “Talorc’s former second-in-command was your brother?” she asked by way of changing the subject. “Is it a family position or something?”

“Our families have been close for generations. Sean was the eldest, so he was the first to be chosen as beta, I mean second to our laird.”

“And now your brother Barr holds his position.”

“He’s a fine warrior,” Niall said with evident pride.

“I’m sure he is. For Talorc to choose him over you, he must be incredible.”

Niall’s face took on a ruddy hue, and Abigail had to bite back the urge to laugh again. She did not want to offend the man. After all, her praise had already obviously embarrassed him.

“I do not want the responsibility. Being second to our laird requires more than great skills as a warrior; it needs diplomacy.” He said the last word with a distasteful grimace that left no doubt what he thought of that element to his brother’s position. “I would rather knock heads together than help disgruntled clanspeople reach a compromise.”

If he’d said “diplomacy” with a marked lack of enthusiasm, Niall made it clear that the word compromise left a foul taste in his mouth indeed.

This time she did laugh and was happy to see that Niall joined her.

Her laughter dried up as a huge gray wolf stepped into their path. Beside her, Niall jerked as if surprised. Who wouldn’t be, to see a wild predator so close?

The wolf stepped closer and Abigail went rigid with fear.

The beast inhaled as if sniffing her and then raised his head and released a mournful howl. Then he barked. And if it wouldn’t have meant she’d gone mad, she would have said he was trying to talk to her. A wolf.

“You need not fear, he will not hurt you,” Niall spoke from beside her.

Funny, but she would have expected the big warrior to put his body between hers and the danger. Not that one of her father’s soldiers would, but she had a different place in the Sinclair clan. Or at least, she thought she did. Perhaps they would be just as pleased to be rid of her by whatever means as her mother had been.

Abigail’s eyes burned with tears, and no matter that she furiously blinked in an attempt to make them go away, one spilled over, burning a trail down her cheek.

The wolf whined and then barked at Niall, a clear growl of warning issuing from deep in the animal’s chest.

“I am not the one causing her distress,” Niall said, as if talking to a wolf was the most natural thing in the world.

Perhaps for the uncivilized Scottish warriors, it was.

The huge gray wolf barked once more and then turned and ran away, disappearing into the forest as if it had never been there.

Abigail wanted to turn away from Niall, to take time to collect herself. But as was so often the case, she had no choice but to look at him in case he spoke to her.

Eyes a shade lighter than the wolf’s coat studied her. “Are you all right?”

“He didn’t attack,” she observed, rather than answer with a lie. “Why?”

“He had no desire to harm you. In fact, I think you hurt his feelings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She was in no mood for some strange soldier’s jesting.

“I am not.” Indeed, Niall looked all too serious. “Didn’t you hear his sad howl and the way he whined?”

“I suppose he wanted me to pet him.”

“Aye. Most likely.”

“And get my hand bitten off?” Abigail shivered. “I don’t think so.”

“He would not have bitten you.”

“How can you possibly sound so certain?”

“I know that wolf.”

She shook her head but believed him regardless. “You’re serious. That’s why you did not get between me and the animal.”

“If I had tried to touch you or stand between you, then things might have gotten ugly.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yet it is true.”

“Are you trying to convince me that Scottish wolves are so different from those found in the wilds of England?”

“Some. That wolf, yes.”

“I will take your word for it.”

“So, you do not wish to meet the gray wolf again?”

“No.” But even as she denied the desire, she wasn’t sure she spoke true. “Perhaps, if I could see him and know he would not hurt me. He was beautiful.”

Niall nodded, as if satisfied by her answer, though she couldn’t imagine why it should matter to him.

By the time the hunters who had ridden their horses returned in the early afternoon along with game for the roasting fire, she and Niall had established the beginnings of a true friendship.

Abigail insisted on helping to prepare the rabbits for the spit. Then she implored the soldiers to hunt again, this time for wild vegetables and berries to eat with the game at the evening meal.

No matter how far into the woods Talorc ventured, the memory of Abigail’s sweet, fresh scent drew him back to the clearing. He followed her and Niall on their walk, his wolf’s paws silent on the forest floor. He masked his scent so that even Niall did not realize Talorc was nearby.

His wolf wanted to make himself known, to rub up against his angel and allow his full wolf senses the opportunity to take her presence in. He had revealed himself only to discover that Abigail was terrified of his beast. His presence had brought tears to her eyes, and not the good kind.

He’d forced his wolf to run away rather than risk frightening her further, or worse, making himself known to her. He could not afford to share the secrets of his people with Abigail.

Besides, he was supposed to be hunting. Not that they needed the meat; they could make his keep by nightfall. If they rode out, but they weren’t riding today.

His gentle bride needed time to heal before getting back on a horse. She had soaked in the restorative waters of the hot springs last night. And he had left instructions with Niall to make sure she did the same today, but Talorc could not be sure that would be enough.