“Thank ye,” she said as she stood up and held up the dress against her.

The silk gown was the deep blue of sapphires, and tiny pearls were sewn along the neckline. The sleeves were short and the skirt flowed down beyond her toes. Bram inwardly smiled at the cheerful expression Lara wore as she folded the dress and placed it over the back of a chair before settling back into bed. He watched as her eyes slowly closed in slumber.

Finding a spot on the floor, Bram lay down on the ground and went to sleep.

Lara awoke to the sound of Bram moaning. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, she looked down at him on the floor. She watched as he tossed and turned as if he were struggling to break free from some imaginary hold. Sitting up in the bed, she scooted herself to the edge and stood. Quietly, she walked over to him. Kneeling down next to him she watched him as his eyes rapidly rolled back and forth under their lids and his head tossed side to side. His forehead glistened with sweat.

Afraid to touch him, she whispered, “Bram.”

There was no answer. Calling him a second time still did not wake him. Lara held her hand up, wanting to touch his shoulder, but hesitated and withdrew her hand. She waited several long moments before slowly bringing it down. With a gentle stroke of her hand, she caressed his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch but as soft as a bairn’s bottom.

She had never touched a man besides her husband. Dermot was not as big or strong as Bram was. His shoulders and arms were not as sculpted with muscle and he did not have the musky smell of horse and leather. Dermot was very different from Bram. He was cruel and selfish; two things that Bram could never be. Bram was honest, honorable, and risking his life for her, though he knew nothing of her past. Had he taken the horse, he would be half way home by now, she thought. She could not bear the guilt she felt at keeping him away from his family. In the morning, she would insist that he allow her to ride home alone.

Lara, realizing she had been admiring him for longer than what seemed appropriate, quickly tapped him on the shoulder.

Bram’s eyes popped open at her touch and in one swift movement, he had her pinned beneath him, holding her wrists high above her head.

Lara’s breathing quickened and she began to shake vigorously. She had no idea what had happened or what Bram was about to do. The hazy look in his eyes told her that he was furious and she began to regret waking him from his dream.

“Bram… Bram, ye are hurting me,” she said.

His weight pressed down against hers such that she could barely breathe.

Bram released her wrists and sat up. The angry look on his face changed quickly at the sight of her.

“Why did ye wake me? Dinna ye ken that ye should never wake a sleeping man? I could have killed ye,” he grumbled, and scowled at her.

“I dinna mean to anger ye. But ye were tossing and turning, and I...” she tried to explain before getting choked up.

“I am sorry lass. I dinna mean to frighten or hurt ye,” Bram said as he leaned in towards her to wipe a tear from her cheek.

“What were ye dreaming about?” she stammered in between sharp inhalations.

“I was dreaming of battle. Over the last sennight, it has kept replaying in my mind.”

Lara creased her brow and frowned. She never realized a man like him could be haunted so fiercely by battle.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated hoping to make amends.

“Lass, why did the English have ye? The truth now. Who was it that gave ye over to the English?” he questioned, needing to know the answer so he knew how to protect her and from whom.

“My husband, Laird Dermot Moray,” she said in such a faint whisper that he was certain he misunderstood her.

“Yer husband? Ye are married?” he asked in surprise, losing his breath for a moment.

“Aye. I was sold to the English to pay my husband’s taxes to the King.”

Married? Bram felt as if an arrow had plunged deep into his heart. What kind of a father would marry his daughter off to such a whoreson? And what kind of husband would treat his wife in such a cruel manner?

“Why would yer husband do such a thing, lass?”

Lara bit her bottom lip. She was agitated and uncertain whether she wanted to share her story with him. But he had been kind towards her, and she believed she could trust him. She took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.

“I was sent to live at Castle Foley just north of Irvine. My father felt that Laird Moray was a good military man with power, money, and the English King’s ear.”

Lara quickly clarified when she saw Bram’s look of betrayal.

“Tis no’ what ye think. We are no’ traitors. Most of the Lowland clans live under the English King’s rule, but our allegiance is still to Scotland,” she explained, releasing the breath that she had been holding. “At first I did no’ want to marry him. I was scared of him, but when he learned of our betrothal, he… he,” she stuttered.

Lara tried to find the right words to say. In truth, at the beginning of their courtship he was kind and it was only after their wedding that he became the monster she now knew him to be.

“He was benevolent,” she continued saying. She did not dare refer to him as kind.

“After our wedding ceremony, all of his friendliness changed. There is a rumor that my dowry holds a rare treasure but no one has ever laid eyes upon it. It was said that it was given to my father from a Norse King. But my father remains silent about it and will no’ say whether the claim is true, nor prove it to be false. The only thing he would admit was that he had once held a high command with the Norse King’s army before he married my mother.”

“And I take it that Laird Dermot found out about this treasure?” Bram asked.

“Aye. Which is why he agreed to the union. When I swore to him that I knew nothing of it, he called me a liar. He kept insisting that my father and I kept it hidden. But I showed him our treasure room, the secret passageways, and the trunks locked in the sacristy, but he still did no’ believe me. He demonstrated a false impression of wealth to the neighboring clans but when the English came to collect the taxes, Dermot had no money to pay them. He gave the English me instead of coin. He ne’er wanted the union, he told me. He said I was plain and useless as a wife, and that he wished he had ne’er married me. That is why I must go home.”

“What of yer father? Surely if he knew the truth, he would strike the bastard down and protect ye from harm.”

“Nay. I told my father how Dermot treated me, but he said that I needed to be a dutiful wife and obey my husband.”

“Lass, I make a promise to ye that nay any more harm will come to ye. I will take ye to yer father, but if yer father will no’ help ye, ye can come wit’ me to Dunakin. Ye would be welcomed there.”

“Thank ye, but ye dinna have to, Bram. Ye have done more than enough. Ye have been away from yer family long enough and I will no’ keep ye from them any longer.”

“Aye, it has been a while, but I can wait a little longer. Dinna argue wit’ me, lass; I will no’ be changing my mind.”

By the time she had finished her tale, her eyes were reddened from tears. Bram wore a deep frown and knew not what to say. He felt sorry for the lass and the way she was treated, and she was anything but plain and useless. She was beautiful, and from what little he knew of her, she was resilient and courageous. Had she nowhere to go, Bram would gladly offer her a place within his clan. He knew that his brother would take her in and that all of his clansmen would show nothing but kindness. He could only hope that her father would offer her the compassion and protection that she deserved.