Page 19 of Bound to a Warrior
She couldn’t deny that she favored his kiss, unexpected as it was and with no sense of expectation; it had been a memorable experience. And if she was honest with herself, one she wouldn’t mind experiencing again.
Stop being foolish, Mercy.
Her mother’s sharp warning rang clear in her head. She had expected it; even though her mother was dead, her lessons had been drilled too deeply for Mercy to ever forget. Her mother would expect her to use Duncan for what she could get from him and then be done with him. After all, he was not a man of means or power and thereby worthless to the likes of her mother.
But if he could keep her safe and provide a safe haven until she could find better, then her mother would advise her to do whatever was necessary, and that included coupling with him.
Her mother had warned Mercy not to waste her time on love—that it was a grievous condition that brought only pain and suffering. She recalled the rare few times she heard her mother crying. She had been young and her mother’s sobs had ripped at her small heart and she wanted to comfort her, but when she had tried, her mother yelled that this was what loving a man did to you and don’t be foolish enough to ever let it happen.
And so she was left confused about love and men. Her mother told her not to worry, since she would see that a generous marriage arrangement was made for her. However, her mother had made a foolish and costly decision, and now Mercy was on her own.
“We will need to find food in the morning.”
Mercy was so relieved that Duncan had broken the silence. Being alone with her thoughts didn’t help, since it made her realize the true precariousness of her situation.
“It would be nice if we could catch a fish or two, but that would require a fire to cook them,” she said disappointed.
“There are farms throughout this area. We’re bound to come across one soon.”
“The tenants may fear helping us.”
“Or they may be as kind as Bailey and his wife. And if not we’ll survive on the last of the fall berries and apples, if we can find them. Then when we arrive at my home, Mara will have a feast prepared.”
He spoke the woman’s name with such fondness and glee that Mercy couldn’t help but ask, “You love this woman?”
With a broad smile and a glint of joy in his eyes, he said, “With all my heart and I have since I was born.”
Strangely, she felt a pang of relief. “She’s your mother.”
Duncan shook his head. “My mother died giving birth to me and my father died shortly after in battle. With no other family left to care for me, Mara and her husband Carmag took me in and raised me as their own along with their son Trey, who is but a year younger than my twenty and seven years.”
“So Trey is like a brother to you.”
Duncan nodded. “So are Reeve and Bryce, who arrived at Mara and Carmag’s doorstep one cold snowy night. Bryce was barely five years and Reeve just four years and they clung to each other for a good week until they finally realized they had found a good, safe home.”
“They’re brothers?” she asked happy that she was learning more about Duncan and relieved she was feeling comfortable with him once again.
“No. They met along the road after their farms had been destroyed and their parents killed.”
“Clan war?’ Mercy asked.
“If the clans aren’t battling themselves, they’re battling those who wish to claim sovereignty over Scotland.”
“But it is being whispered that the true king will return soon and his reign will bring peace,” she said.
“Many hope and pray that it is true,” he said and reached his hand out to feel his shirt. “Almost dry.”
Mercy eagerly felt her blouse. “Mine is dry. Now I can put it on and take my skirt off and leave it to dry.”
Duncan stood along with her. She wasn’t surprised that he turned his head away while she removed her skirt and maneuvered herself into her blouse. Then she quickly spread her skirt out to dry.
She let him know he could turn around with a quick, “All done.”
His dark eyes took in all of her much too slowly and lingered much too long in certain areas. And while the linen blouse provided sufficient covering, she also realized it tantalized. Her mother taught her that a single revealing garment could entice a man more than if a woman stood naked before him.
“You should know by now that I’m extremely attracted to you and that kiss we shared makes me want to sample more of you.”
She felt a nibble of the same, but it would be unwise to let him know that now. He would assume that she was willing, when actually she was curious. And curiosity could be a dangerous thing.
