“I dunnae wish it,” he interrupted, his voice grave. “’Tis for yer safety.”
She nodded. If he would just open up to her, tell her his secrets, whatever weighed so heavily upon him and caused these nightmares might prove more bearable—maybe even dissipate entirely. She didn’t want to argue about it right now, though, after all they had been through and shared this night. “Please, let me stay just until ye fall asleep.”
“Nay.” He looked so forlorn that she felt hopeful he would relent.
“I vow to depart the verra moment ye are asleep. I simply want to lie here with ye for a bit.”
“And if ye fall asleep first?” he asked.
“Then gather me into yer arms and take me to my bedchamber.”
“’Tis dangerous.”
“’Tis dangerous nae to allow it!” she cried out. When a shocked look settled on his face, she rushed to explain. “I feel like ye are keeping a wall between us, Alex, and I kinnae abide it. If ye will nae share yer secrets with me and ye will nae allow us to sleep the night in the same bed, I must have this. I need it!” Perhaps she was being unfair and unwise to press him on the matter, but a desperate worry had settled in her chest, along with the certainty that if they did not address what lay in the shadows between them, it would destroy their new love.
He sighed. “Close yer eyes, then, Wife. I’ll take ye to yer chamber when ye fall asleep.”
She nodded, hanging on to the triumph, however small it was.
Fourteen
Alex settled his sleeping wife on her bed, covered her, and then turned to go. Sleep was beckoning him, too. But as he pushed open Lena’s bedchamber door to depart, she cried out in her sleep. At the sound of her terror, he turned around sharply and went to her side. She thrashed on the bed, her eyes moving restlessly under her eyelids.
“Stop it. Stop it!” she demanded, tears leaking from her eyes and trickling down the sides of her face.
His heart twisted at the misery in her voice. Sitting beside her, he reached over to wake her, but when he placed his hand on her arm and said her name, she stilled immediately. She gave a ragged sigh and turned toward his hand, blindly reaching for it in her sleep and tugging it to her chest. She curled her arms around it and sighed once more before becoming perfectly still.
He stared at her, shocked, as her body soon found a rhythm of deep breathing and a peaceful look settled on her face. He did not know what was causing Lena’s nightmares, if it was the memory of Findlay or Hamish, or something else, but he knew Lena needed his presence here. He hated himself in that moment for his inability to give his wife everything she needed. He could not sleep the night with her, and he could not share the secrets of his past, nor could he share his assignment from King David. It was not only because he’d vowed he’d not disclose the latter but because the one thing he understood more deeply than anything was that his vow to Lena trumped every vow he’d ever given to another. If he could be sure she wouldn’t try to help, risking herself in the process, he would gladly tell her of the assignment. But he was worried she’d do exactly that.
He smiled down at his beautiful wife, her face illuminated by the moonlight. She had delicate bones and features, but a look of determination creased her brow even in sleep. She’d become strong in body and mind, and his love for her seemed to be growing at an astonishing pace. It was that all-consuming love that forced him to keep his assignment secret. He would protect her no matter what.
His eyes burned and vision blurred as he sat there, his body becoming heavy with weariness. He closed his eyes, then snapped them back open. Carefully, he tried to extract his hand from his wife’s clutches, but every time he attempted to do so, she cried out in distress. He sat there, trapped by his desire to give her what she needed and his knowledge that he was a threat to her if he succumbed to sleep. He couldn’t stay, yet he couldn’t go. His eyes slowly closed once more, and again, he snapped them open, his body jerking in response. But seconds later, his head lolled forward as sleep gripped him in its steely embrace.
“Ye’ll like it, lad,” Gillis hissed in his ear.
Alex spit in Gillis’s face, and the man immediately drove his fist into Alex’s nose. The crunch of bones vibrated in his ears, followed by pain that made him want to retch.
Gillis snarled and jerked Alex’s head up, causing his scalp to sting. Alex squinted at the man through almost-closed eyes. “I tire of these games. Bring me Thomas!” Gillis boomed to the guard Alex knew was standing just outside the door.
Alex had but to glance at Ginny still lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood before he found himself speaking. “Nay,” he said, hating his friend’s very existence in that moment, for if there were no Thomas, Alex would let Gillis kill him before he let the man break him. “Dunnae call for Thomas to be killed. I’ll like it,” Alex said, the words feeling as if they’d been ripped from his gut.
Gillis grinned and ran a hand down Alex’s cheek before he trailed it so low that Alex started to retch, his stomach heaving in spasms. He couldn’t do it! Thomas was going to die because of Alex’s selfishness. Just as he decided to kick out at Gillis, a loud commotion sounded at the door before it opened and Alex’s father walked into the dungeon.
Shame unlike anything Alex had ever experienced swept over him at the slack look of disbelief on his father’s face. Then relief as pure and sweet as the white snow filled him when vicious hatred twisted his father’s features. He drew his sword at the same moment he lunged for Gillis. The evil man never had a chance to move.
“Remove yer filthy hand from my son, or by God, I will cut it off and then slice ye to pieces bit by bit as I coo in yer ear how much I’m enjoying yer death.”
Gillis dropped his hand from Alex’s body a breath before Alex’s father swung his sword, cutting Alex’s binds. He staggered away from the pole to which he’d been tied, his knees almost buckling, but he locked them and drew himself to his full height.
“Father,” he started, desperate to explain what had happened and to be forgiven for his failure.
His father shook his head even as he struck Gillis on the temple, giving such a blow that the man swooned and fell to the floor. When he did, Alex’s father strode to the dungeon door and slammed it shut, then turned back to Alex.
“Are we going to kill him, Father?” Alex didn’t give a damn that the man was defenseless at the moment, nor that Alex would risk eternal damnation for killing another in this way. He could feel a dagger in his empty hand, and he could easily imagine plunging it into Gillis’s black heart for what he had done and still wanted to do.
“We kinnae kill him, but he will suffer. I vow it to ye.”
“But, Father—”
