himself. It’s in the past.
But Callum was still there. And no one could shelter his brother from the English torturers.
He got down from the wagon and unhitched the horse, leading it to the water. His wife remained where she was, though he didn’t miss the guarded fear in her eyes. Seeing it only intensified his self-hatred.
As the horse drank, he stared into the water, angry with himself for what he’d done. He needed to say something to her, or, better, do something to make amends. Words weren’t enough.
The soft shush of her skirts against the grass told him that she’d come up behind him. ‘Are you all right, Bram?’
He nodded. ‘Is your wrist still hurting?’
‘A little.’ But in her voice he heard the tremor of worry.
He reached up to take her wrist. Gently, he caressed the skin, furious with himself.
‘It’s all right,’ she said quietly. And in her green eyes he saw that she wasn’t going to turn her back on him because of a moment of darkness. Her quiet reassurance was a forgiveness he’d never expected.
He stared at her wrist, then reached down to the hem of his tunic and rent the fabric, tearing off a long thin strip.
Nairna stared at Bram, uncertain of why he was damaging his tunic. ‘What are you doing?’
He took her wrist and fumbled with the strip of cloth, wrapping it around her bruise like a bandage. His hands were trembling, but he kept winding the cloth until it covered her skin. It was loose and awkward, but she voiced no criticism. It was his way of trying to atone for his actions. Her heart stumbled, for she knew he’d never meant to hurt her.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ she murmured. When he reached for her other wrist, she stopped him. ‘I know you weren’t aware of what happened. I shouldn’t have touched your scar.’
For a long moment, he held on to her hand, staring at the bandage as if he were searching for the right words. ‘I lost control of myself. I can’t remember the last time I slept and I haven’t eaten a full meal in years.’
She reached out to touch his face, bringing him up to look at her. His fingers clasped with hers, as if he needed the reassurance.
Her skin warmed beneath his and she found herself studying him. There were wounds she couldn’t see, scars that went deeper than any physical wounds. And though she knew his body and mind had been damaged by the imprisonment, beneath it all, she saw a man who needed saving.
Bram moved away to gather firewood and Nairna joined him, searching for tinder. Neither spoke until he’d managed to light the fire.
She searched the supplies and brought him some food. Though he tried to eat the oat cake, he took only a bite or two before setting it aside.
‘How will you regain your strength if you don’t eat?’ she asked, frowning at his untouched food.
He shook his head. ‘It’s too much, too soon.’ He rested his wrists upon his knees, staring at the flames. ‘Nairna, if you’re weary, go on and sleep. I won’t bother you tonight.’ He nodded towards the wagon, in a gesture of dismissal.
But if she left him alone, he wouldn’t sleep. She knew it. Nairna moved to sit beside him. ‘Come and lie down with me. I’ll wager you’re more tired than I am.’
In his worn face, she could see the years of exhaustion, but Bram shook his head. ‘I’ll stay here and keep watch.’
Another thought occurred to her. ‘Are you afraid to sleep?’ She wondered if nightmares plagued him, perhaps visions of the past.
She reached out for him. Bram lifted her bandaged wrist to his mouth, brushing his lips against the pulse point. She shivered slightly, the unexpected tremor sending desire spiralling through her.
‘Go on and sleep in the wagon without me,’ he urged, but instead she laid down beside him, resting her head in his lap. She’d come this far and she wasn’t about to leave him now.
For he was her husband. And he needed her.
She felt him gently stroke her hair. As she closed her eyes, even knowing she wouldn’t sleep, Bram touched her as if she were the salvation he’d craved for so long.
Chapter Five
The following evening, they arrived at Glen Arrin. The sight of his home should have filled him with relief and thankfulness, but Bram’s nerves tightened with fear of what the others would say. It was his fault that Callum had been taken captive. His fault that his father had died. And though he longed to see his brothers, he was afraid of the blame he would face.
As they approached, his heart grew heavier. Glen Arrin might have been a formidable fortress years ago, but those days were long past.
Half-a-dozen thatched huts encircled the keep and the outer palisade wall revealed large open segments. Broken and frail, the fortress barely held together, like an old man too stubborn to admit his weakness.
Years ago, his father had promised to build a castle, one that could defend their clan from any attack. Those promises hadn’t been fulfilled, it seemed.
‘It needs a bit of fixing, doesn’t it?’ Nairna ventured when he’d pulled the wagon to a stop. She stared at the keep, as though she were trying to find something nice to say. ‘Some thatch and new wood might help.’
He eyed her with disbelief, then glanced back at Glen Arrin. She was being far too generous. Although he’d wanted her to live with him in a place they could be proud of, the fortress was worse than he’d expected.
‘A strong wind would blow it down,’ he admitted. ‘It’s a disaster.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. It just needs a few men to work on it.’
‘Over the next five years,’ he countered.
‘It just needs a new foundation, new walls, a new roof and a new door.’ She sent him a wry grin. ‘Nothing much at all.’
He didn’t respond to her teasing, but when she squeezed his palm, she reminded him, ‘You’ve come home, Bram. After all this time, you’ll see your family.’
Her words stopped him short. She was right. He’d been dwelling upon the appearance, rather than being grateful for his freedom.
He breathed in the clean air, heavy with moisture. And for a moment, he let the familiar sights offer him comfort. He was glad to be home.
He helped Nairna down from the wagon. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go inside. Pray God the roof doesn’t fall on our heads and bury us.’
He took her hand in his, leading her forwards. As they passed the meagre huts, a few curious men raised their hands in welcome, calling out a greeting, their faces breaking into smiles. He recognised the faces of his clansmen, though he couldn’t quite recall some of the names.
He led her further inside until they reached the narrow tower. At a closer glimpse,
