His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

virginal and dead, seduced and unwed than raped and beaten in marriage. Good night, Father."

After the others had departed Foster studied a pensive Eldon. "Do you speak what is truly in your heart and mind or simply what you wish or think should be there?"

" 'Tis truly how I feel. I treasure her life far more than her virtue, even her honor or mine own. The feeling is bred upon the idea that she has not been abused. If she comes to me hurting, physically or in her heart, I will run a sword through the bastard."

Chapter Twenty

Tavis looked up from the sword he sharpened, and his eyes narrowed as he saw guilt and embarrassment reflected upon Sholto's handsome face. A vision of Sholto and Storm kissing upon the battlements filled his mind, and he suddenly grew cold. Part of him flinched from the confession he could see forming upon Sholto's lips, from the pain he knew it would bring, while another part demanded it.

"This isnae easy for me to say, Tavis, but, seeing as a man always faces death ere he picks up a sword, I have to say it. 'Tis a guilt I maun get out o' my heart."

"Go on." Tavis's hand clenched his sword hilt until his knuckles whitened.

"God's beard." Sholto looked around briefly, then returned his gaze to Tavis. "I tried my fiercest to have your woman, Tavis."

"Tried?" The chill began to leave his bones.

"Aye. Tried. Och, she's a warm lassie, and I'm nay being vain when I say I ken how to stir a woman, but she ne'er stopped saying nay. She was right in saying I'd hate myself. I do, and I didnae e'en get what I was after. It wasnae right going after her the moment ye werenae about, but I wanted her that bad, I didnae care whose woman she was."

Standing up, Tavis sheathed his sword as he faced Sholto. "Did her eyes grow warm?"

"Like liquid gold."

Clasping Sholto's shoulder, Tavis said, "If ye looked into eyes like that, I cannae see how ye pulled back."

"It wasnae easy," came Sholto's heartfelt reply.

A grin touched Tavis's face, and he said, "Ye could have taken her but ye didnae. 'Tis naught."

"Would it have mattered an I had?" Sholto asked out of curiosity, knowing he had been forgiven.

"Aye. Ye could have taken Katerine right afore my eyes and I wouldnae have cared but"—he shrugged, for he did not understand his feelings—"Storm is mine. 'Tis how I see it."

"Yours until ye tire o' her or she returns to Hagaleah?"

Curtly, Tavis nodded. It was not a subject he liked to dwell upon. Sholto sensed that and asked no more questions.

They were about to mount up to the battlements when Storm dashed over to them. Tavis watched Sholto's eyes flicker with banked hunger, and his arms encircled her with a more evident possessiveness when she flung herself into them.

"Ye tiptoed away without a word," she murmured, trying to hide the tears that threatened.

"Ah, ye would rather I stomp," he said seriously, his eyes alive with laughter.

"Your concept of humor eludes me," Storm said dryly, but then discarded teasing and held him tightly. "Send me to Sir Hugh, Tavis, and put an end to this. 'Tis my battle, not yours."

Resting his chin upon the top of her head, Tavis replied, "Nay, lass. He has raised a sword against Caraidland no matter what the cause, and that makes it our fight. Just as every soul here kens how 'twas ye who saved the laird's life, so do they ken what that bastard means to do with ye. 'Tis not our way to repay a life by giving up one to certain death. Ye have no kin, and Lady Mary gave ye to me. Weel, what is mine stays mine; an I maun lift sword to keep it, so I will."

Her hands gripped his shirt at the back as she fought against speaking the words that crowded into her mouth. It was not right to send a man off to battle with tears and expressions of fears for his life. A woman must be brave, act as if she is certain that her man will return alive. She felt his hands caress her hair and forced her very real fear to recede for the moment. Out of his sight she could weep and wring her hands as much as she wanted to. She looked up at him.

"Oh, well, there is none that can say I did not give it a try. Ye are a stubborn man, MacLagan."

"That I am, Sassanach. So are ye. Stubborn as a summer's day is long, so I will have a promise from ye here and now. Ye'll nay go tripping out to the man. Swear to it, lass." He quirked a brow when she clamped her lips together. "I will tie ye and that tiptoeing cousin o' yours to a keg an I must. Swear that ye will stay within these walls and nay do anything foolish."

"I swear," she muttered. "Ye play unfair. 'Tis no fun to be read so well. I had this plan ..."

"Aye, I kenned that. Tend to the wounded, lass. 'Tis where ye are truly needed, not hurling yourself into the fray like some ancient sacrifice. Now, off with ye. There is a battle that willnae wait on me.

When he touched his mouth to hers her hands delved into his hair, holding his mouth to hers for a kiss that held all her love for him. Finally releasing him, she pressed her cheek to his. Suddenly, it was important that he know how she felt. Pride was an insignificant thing at such a time.

"Ye are the sun of my world, Tavis MacLagan. Without ye all would be cold and dark. I love ye."

She slipped free of his arms, arms grown lax from sheer astonishment. Sholto, who was looking at his brother in obvious puzzlement, had his turn to be surprised when she pressed a brief kiss upon his mouth. She then swiftly