Warrior's Moon

how he would respond to that knowledge.

Chapter 16

There is no greater gift than to be accepted by one’s mate.

—NIALL OF THE SINCLAIR

“You nearly challenged the pack alpha,” Audrey remarked, trying to understand Vegar’s irrational behavior and avoid her own contemplations.

His insistence on caring for her had led to a near challenge and a very hasty marriage.

“You are my mate. Mine to protect. Mine to care for.”

She could not deny his words. Despite the fact that Lady Sinclair had followed them to Vegar’s room and insisted on treating Audrey’s injuries, he had done most of the actual tending.

“Is that the way it is among the Ean?”

“Mates take care of one another, no matter their race of Chrechte.”

“My father never played nursemaid to my mother.”

Vegar shrugged. “He is English and human.”

“He was still her mate.” And though it was uncommon enough for a human to mate a Chrechte, when it happened, the bond was every bit as irresistible as it was between two of the Faol.

“Not a good one, by the sounds of it.”

“He had a wife,” Audrey admitted with shame even as she revised some of her own perceptions about the mating bond.

It inspired lust and an overwhelming need to procreate, but the tender touches and acts of kindness she’d witnessed between the laird and his lady were not a result of it. Emotion caused that behavior and attitude.

Would she experience that same emotion with Vegar?

“Not your mother.”

“Not my dam, no.”

Vegar shook his head. “English.”

“That is not a curse word, any more than Ean is one that should be spoken in that tone. Whatever you may wish otherwise, your mate and now wife is English.”

Vegar sighed. “I apologize.”

“What?”

“You heard.”

“You do not seem like a man who admits regret easily.”

“I am not.”

“So, I should feel privileged?”

“You are my mate.”

“And that gives me special privileges?”

“Aye.”

“I am still English.”

“You are Chrechte.”

“And a bastard.”

“Your father is the bastard, not you.”

“His parents were married.”

“His behavior toward your mother and the woman who carries his name decrees him such.”

“I always thought so,” Audrey admitted. “His wife was not an unkind woman. She treated Thomas and me better than our father did.”

“She is a woman of great character.”

“My mother did not think so.”

“That is to be expected.”

Audrey found herself smiling at something that had always before caused her pain. “Perhaps it is. Even if she had been his wife, I do not think my father would have known the first thing about tending another’s ailments, least of all my mother’s.”

The shrug was in his voice this time. “Warriors are trained to treat wounds as well as inflict them.”

“Are they?” She’d never heard of such a thing among the baron’s knights.

Though that was not a definitive circumstance. Their father had taken Thomas’s training very lightly. It had stopped almost completely when they were sent to serve in the Heronshire household.

Shona’s baron had made sure Thomas knew enough to protect his wife and the children only in a very rudimentary way.

“Aye.”

“Is it a Highlander tradition, do you think?”

He lifted one negligent shoulder, as if whether anyone outside the men he trained did as they did was of no importance. Probably, it wasn’t.

Unlike her, Vegar did not appear to be a man who would care overmuch for the opinions or accepted practices of others.

Vegar pulled his tunic off and she gasped as his torso was revealed. To be sure, his body was all that a woman could desire in both husband and mate.

Strong and well formed, but it was the evidence of the battle he’d so recently fought that drew forth her reaction. “You were so intent on treating my cuts, you have neglected your own.”

“You can treat them for me now.” He removed his kilt and approached the bed, his tumescent sex worrisome.

She nodded, his health more important than her worry or embarrassment. Holidng close with one hand the fur covering her nakedness, she sat up and reached for the wet cloth floating in a bowl of witch hazel–infused water Abigail had left behind.

Audrey now realized the lady had done so not so her own injuries could be treated again later, but so that Vegar’s wounds could be cleansed.

He sat beside her on the bedding in a way that made it easy for her to reach the majority of the small cuts and abrasions he’d sustained. “You are very tenderhearted.”

“Because I want to treat your wounds? You treated mine as well,” she reminded him. And had in fact, ignored his own to do so.

Again she was touched by the heart revealed in his actions despite his sometimes off-putting attitude and words.

“Because you allowed the laird to proclaim us man and wife rather than allow me to challenge him.”

“You were not being reasonable.”

“There is no reason when it comes to protecting one’s mate.”

“If you say so.” She reached out and touched him with the cloth, swiping at dried blood around one of his larger gashes. “None of these will need sewing.”

“I am Chrechte. I will heal quickly.”

“I know that, but I am still glad.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why?”

She did not understand the question. “I do not wish you to be in pain.”

“You see? Tenderhearted.”