Tamed & Unleashed: The Highlander's Vivacious Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 13) Page 8

  Garrett’s fingers itched to touch her, to brush the stray curl from her temple and run the tips of his fingers down the long column of her neck.

  Still, he resisted that urge for he knew that whether she remembered him or not, something had changed. Something had happened. Something that was currently the only thing on her mind. Had she truly met another? Had she lost her heart to him? Had he then deserted her? Was he the one she was looking for?

  The thought alone brought physical pain to every inch of Garrett’s body, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to shake her awake and demand an answer. She was his wife, for goodness sake! He deserved to know if her heart had been claimed by another!

  Rubbing his hands over his face, Garrett stopped when he heard her stirring. Only now, it was not the languid movement of someone lost in deep slumber or losing herself in a pleasant dream.

  No, now, her fingers curled into the blanket as though seeking help. Her breathing quickened, and she tossed her head from side to side, her eyes pinched shut. Then she rolled over and curled into a ball, her jaw quivering as tears escaped the corners of her eyes and painful sobs tore from her throat.

  “Lass,” Garrett whispered, sensing her distress. “Lass, wake up. Ye’re dreaming.” Sitting down on the side of the bed, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder, giving it a little shake. Her skin was warm even through her shift, and yet, her muscles felt tense like those of someone fighting for dear life.

  “Claudia!” he called when she did not react, when her sobs continued. His heart clenched painfully at the sight of her misery. What on earth plagued her so?

  And then one word left her lips. One word that changed everything. One word that felt like a bullet to his heart. One word uttered with such heart-breaking longing that Garrett knew all his hopes to be dashed. “Aiden.”

  The name echoed in Garrett’s heart, confirming his worst nightmares, and for a long moment, he sat on the bed beside her, unable to move, unable to think, feeling pain flood his body sob by agonising sob.

  And then the world around him returned as though a veil had been lifted.

  Despite his own, very acute grief over the woman he now knew he had lost, his heart still went out to her as she cringed in her sleep. The other man’s name flew from her lips again and again, pleading, begging, and Garrett knew that he could not leave her to her misery.

  Ignoring his own pain, he reached for her, gently pulling her into his arms as he settled back on the bed. He held her tightly, brushing a hand over her wild curls, up and down her arm and back as he murmured words of comfort into her hair. His own eyes filled with tears for her as much as for himself, and he wondered if this would be the last time he would get to hold her in his arms.

  Savouring the feel of her soft, warm body against his, Garrett returned to his memories of the few hours they had spent together in Gretna Green. The way they had talked, open and without restraint. The way they had laughed together, danced together. The way they had made love in the dim light of their room. The way she had felt in his arms as though she belonged there, as though he had been made to hold her cradled against him.

  Slowly, her sobs calmed, and her breathing evened. Garrett felt her muscles relax and the tension leave her body. He knew he ought to rise, and yet, he did not. He stayed where he was, holding her in his arms, feeling his lids close as fatigue overwhelmed him.

  Soon, he was fast asleep, and for the first time in months, he slept through the night peacefully: his heart calm and beating evenly in the knowledge that the woman he loved lay safe and warm in his arms.

  The next morning dawned bright and early, and Garrett woke to feel her head on his chest and her curls tickling his nose. For a short moment, he was at a loss, blinking his eyes rapidly, before his memories returned and he could not help but smile.

  Unwilling to wake her, Garrett lay still, feeling her heart beat against his own. He turned his head a little in order to get a better look at her face as she lay sleeping, her left hand on his chest. She seemed peaceful, and he could not help but chuckle when she snuggled closer, a soft murmur of contentment leaving her lips.

  Abruptly, she stilled, and Garrett cursed himself.

  Her breathing changed, and her muscles tensed as she left the realms of deep slumber behind, her mind slowly returning to a state of wakeful awareness.

  Looking down, Garrett took note of the slight flutter that came to her lashes. Her fingers curled against his shirt before she stretched them, a deep sigh leaving her lips.

  Then her eyes opened.

  Bracing himself for what lay ahead, Garrett inhaled a deep breath. “Good morning, Lass,” he greeted her, allowing his hand to run over her back one last time.

  As expected, she shot upright in the blink of an eye, her jaw dropping and her eyes wide as she stared down at him. For a moment, words seemed to fail her as her mouth closed and opened and closed again. Then she scooted back, suddenly aware that their bodies were still touching. “What are you doing in this bed?” she demanded, her voice slowly growing in intensity as her face took on a look of outrage. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she glared down at him.

  Garrett chuckled, overwhelmingly reminded of the woman he had fallen in love with. “I thought that was obvious,” he replied grinning. “I was sleeping, same as ye.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “But why here? Why in this bed?”

  Garrett shrugged. “In my country, people sleep in beds. Is it different in yers?”

  Groaning in frustration, she suddenly lunged herself at him, her eyes murderous as her hands clawed at his face.

  Seizing her wrists, Garrett held her at bay, strangely delighted to see such fire in her. “Ye seem upset, Lass,” he commented dryly, knowing it would only rile her into doubling her efforts.

  “You beast!” she shrieked, struggling against his hold on her. “I should have you arrested!”

  Garrett frowned, amused with how she alternately tried to pull her wrists from his grasp and then lunged forward again, hands straining to reach his flesh. “If I’m not at all mistaken, Lass, ye’re the one attacking me. Not the other way around. What grounds would ye have to have me arrested? I dunno believe even the English would arrest a man for sleeping in a bed.” Again, he chuckled, and when she lunged at him once more, he flipped her over, pinning her with his body and holding her hands safely tucked into the mattress, one on each side of her head.

  Feeling his weight on top of her, she stilled, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath as she stared up at him. “You said…,” she began, then swallowed. “You said I’d be safe with you.”

  Garrett sobered, feeling the hammering of her heart against his chest. “I did,” he replied, no teasing in his tone now, “and I meant it. I swear I didna touch ye. Ye’ve nothing to fear.”

  Holding his gaze, she seemed to consider his words. “You did touch me,” she said then. “You held me.” A deep breath followed, and she held his gaze. “Why?”

  Garrett swallowed, sensing a shift in the air as their conversation slowly turned to touch on what had happened last night, on what he had learnt. Still, unable not to, Garrett teased, “To keep ye from falling out of bed, Lass. Ye tossed and turned quite a bit. I was afraid ye might hit yer head.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and yet, there was a slight twitch to her lips, drawing his gaze. The sudden urge to kiss her overwhelmed him, and he lowered his head to hers without thinking.

  Instantly, her eyes widened, and she struggled against him.

  Garrett stilled, cursing himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, fearing his foolishness had finally destroyed the last shred of trust she could have had in him. After all, what woman would trust a man who promised he would not touch her and then tried to kiss her a moment later?

  Releasing her wrists, Garrett rose from the bed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again. “I dunno know what came over me.”

  Scrambling into the far corner of the bed, she pulled the blanket up under her
chin, her eyes watching him intently. And yet, there was no fear in her eyes, merely distrust. Her blue eyes were wide and curious as they slid over him, briefly lingering on his lips as though she, too, had felt the same temptation, but had merely managed to resist it better than him.

  Garrett held his breath as they looked at one another, and he wondered what her heart was whispering to her in that very moment. Almost a year ago, she had wanted him, desired him. Even if she truly could not remember, had her body recognised his, remembered something that her mind could not grasp? Had their closeness felt familiar to her?

  Last night when she had snuggled deeper into his arms, Garrett could have sworn that a part of her knew who he was, that the arms that had held her felt familiar, reassuring, that she had calmed because somewhere deep down a part of her had recognised him.

  Now, the look on her face told him the same as though she was trying to place him, to remember the moment he had last made her feel like this. Perhaps if he were to kiss her…?

  In the next moment, she shook her head in frustration, and a frown descended upon her face. Her features hardened, and the softness in her eyes vanished. “I would ask you to leave,” she hissed, jerking her chin toward the door. “I need to dress.”

  Garrett nodded, reaching for his boots and pulling them on one after the other. Then he strode toward the door. Still, when he reached for his coat, he stopped, turning back to look at her.

  Instantly, she tensed, eyeing him suspiciously.

  As much as he wanted to, Garrett could not ignore what he had learnt last night. He needed to know. He needed to confront her. “Who is Aiden?” he asked without preamble.

  At his question, her eyes widened in shock and her face paled in such a way that he feared she would faint.

  “Is he the man ye’re looking for?” Garrett prompted when she remained silent. “Is he the one ye’re after?”

  Slowly, she swallowed, her gaze fixed on his, before she licked her lips, her breath strangely laboured. “Leave,” she said, anger and pain darkening her voice, “and never speak that name to me again.”

  Garrett frowned wondering if he had been mistaken. Perhaps she had not lost her heart to another. Perhaps he was someone who had hurt her. But if that were so, then why was she looking for him? Why would she go anywhere near that man if she feared him?

  Disappointed, wanting to know the truth and yet fearing it all the same, Garrett nodded and then turned to go. Still, as he descended the stairs, he remembered the way she had called out the man’s name last night. Her voice had been full of sadness, but also filled with longing. No, whoever that man was, she did care for him. Of that, Garrett was certain. The only question was: could Garrett win her back? Could he conquer her heart yet again? Could he help her remember their time together? Or was her love for that other man so complete and possessive that Garrett would not stand a chance?

  Breakfast was a quiet affair as they each dwelt on their own thoughts, and so before long, they swung themselves back into the saddle. Without a look at him, his wife turned her mare down the road heading north.

  Sighing, Garrett followed. Anger and disappointment still boiled in his veins, but he knew that he could not abandon her. That, he would regret for the rest of his life.

  Hearing the sound of his gelding’s hooves on the dry road, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “There is no need for you to follow me,” she said brusquely, her gaze barely meeting his. “Return to London and your own life. I’m certain you have better things to do than follow me to an unknown place.” Then she gave him a curt nod, seeking to dismiss him, and dug her heels into her horse’s flanks.

  Gritting his teeth, Garrett watched her race off, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was running away because she had felt something. It frightened her not to know, and yet, to be reminded of something she could not grasp. Well, he would simply have to remind her again and again until not only her body remembered him, but her heart and soul as well.

  Digging in his heels, Garrett raced after her.

  Again, she looked over her shoulder when she heard the sounds of his approach. “What are you doing?” she yelled over the thunder of their horses’ hoof beats. “Go back! I don’t need your help! I’ll be fine on my own!”

  Shaking his head, Garrett laughed when he saw her curse, her eyes narrowing and shooting daggers at him. As much as her stubbornness riled him, he loved the fire she possessed, the passion that often flared up in her eyes.

  “Blasted man!” she muttered, spurring on her mare to gain ground.

  Laughing, Garrett followed. He leaned low over his horse’s neck, feeling the morning’s cool wind brush over his face as he came up beside her. His eyes met hers, and his heart jumped at the small twitch that came to her lips before she turned her head away to hide it.

  Side by side, they thundered down the road, which lay deserted this early in the morning. Again, and again, their eyes met across the dusty path, and the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth grew into a large smile that reached up and touched her eyes. Then laughter spilled from her lips, and she threw back her head, momentarily closing her eyes as the sun touched her face.

  Thunderstruck, Garrett stared at her. While his mind screamed at him that she was being foolish, stupid, reckless to be closing her eyes at such speeds, his heart revelled in the sight of her, brave and strong and free.

  Free of the sadness that always clung to her.

  Free of the tension that had dug its claws into her.

  Free of the life she had always found restricting.

  “The tree is the finish line!” she yelled all of a sudden, pointing ahead at a gnarled monster of a seemingly ancient oak, its thick branches reaching across the expanse of the road.

  Garrett nodded, digging in his heels once more as he tried to keep up. On they flew, smiles clinging to their faces, their eyes shifting back and forth between the old tree and their opponent. And then they were side by side, their eyes locked, as the shadow of the monster’s arms fell over them.

  Laughing, Claudia pulled up her reins. “It would seem I cannot rid myself of you.”

  Garrett shook his head, his eyes unable to leave hers. “Never,” he replied, seeing a spark of recognition momentarily light up her eyes.

  Perhaps all hope was not lost.

  Perhaps he could make her remember him after all.

  Chapter Thirteen – The Journey North

  The weather was pleasant this time of year. Not too warm, and not too cold. The sun shone through the few clouds dotting the blue sky, and there was no rain in sight, only a mild breeze touched her face and tangled with Claudia’s long hair.

  That morning, she had not bothered to pin it up tightly. Neither had she plaited it into a long braid going down her back as she hated the soft tugs that came with it. Instead, she had taken a few loose strands and drawn them back from her temples, then tied them in the back to keep them out of her face. The rest of her wild mane hung loosely down her back, and she could feel it dancing on the wind as they raced onward.

  After their first race toward the gnarled tree standing like a lone sentinel by the side of the road, they had slowed their horses, giving them a respite. Silence had fallen over them as they had continued down the road, and yet, it had not been the kind of silence that became awkward and uncomfortable. No, something had changed since they had set out. If only Claudia knew what it was.

  Every once in a while, Mr. MacDrummond would look over to her, his green eyes shining in the brilliant sun, and there would be something there in the way he gazed at her that…

  Frustrated, Claudia turned her head away, feeling as though she had looked into his eyes before, as though they had looked into hers before. Not now or the day before, but…

  “Call me Garrett,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence.

  Turning to look at him, Claudia found him lifting his brows at her teasingly, and yet, the look in his eyes betrayed how important his offer was to him. “
I do not believe that would be appropriate,” she replied, knowing her brother would have fits if she did. Then again, he would not have approved of a myriad of things she had done in the past day.

  As though reading her thoughts, Mr. MacDrummond laughed, “I do believe ‘tis too late to stand on proper decorum.” A wicked glint came to his eyes. “After all, we spent the night together in the same room, in the same bed, in each other’s arms.”

  Claudia gritted her teeth at his teasing, and yet, she realised she was not truly angry. In truth, he was a man after her own heart. Someone who did not feel the obsessive need to follow each and every rule. Someone who said what he thought. Someone who acted on a whim, on a moment’s flaring passion.

  A shiver went down Claudia’s back as she remembered his body pinning her to the bed. He had almost kissed her then. It had been so unexpected that it had spooked her. Her heart had hammered in her chest, and yet, a moment later she had regretted her actions. The look of regret and disappointment on his face had touched her, and for a moment, she had allowed herself to believe that he truly cared about her.

  Although he was still a stranger, his presence continued to comfort her, put her at ease as though he was a trusted friend. Something about him felt eerily familiar as though they had met before. Her body had responded to his touch in a strange way, not bothered in the least by the stranger in her bed. In fact, Claudia had slept like a rock. She had felt safe and cared for, at peace, and her dreams had once again taken her back to the night spent in Gretna Green.

  Again, she had heard her child’s father whisper to her in the dark, his words bearing a strange lilt, their meaning lost to her. And yet, she had felt in her heart that his words had not merely been words, but endearments. He had cared for her, at least, in her dreams, Claudia was certain of that.

  “Well then?” Mr. MacDrummond pressed as his gelding drifted closer and his knee brushed against hers. “Do ye have the courage to break a rule?”

  Frowning, Claudia looked at him. Had she spoken out loud? Sometimes it felt as though he could almost read her thoughts. “Fine,” she relented, realising that she not only wanted to break a rule, but she truly wanted to call him by his given name. “However, only when we do not have company. Understood?”