Lord of Shadowhawk

by Lindsay McKenna

  Alyssa vividly recalled last night’s pleasant reprieve from all the hatred and anger of her dream. “P-please?”

  He reached over, gently caressing her trembling shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, getting out of bed.

  When Tray came back, she was in the same spot, with the blanket pulled around her shoulders. He handed her a cup and placed a few logs upon the bright coals of the hearth. The quiet of the manor surrounded them for many minutes as they sat inches apart, each lost in thought. Alyssa’s hair gleamed like molten burgundy and copper in the firelight, and her features appeared peaceful.

  “I owe you an apology,” she began softly, holding the cup tightly between her slender fingers.

  “Oh?”

  Alyssa grimaced. “I behaved like a child with you earlier today. I—I didn’t mean what I said.” She finished the chocolate and set it aside, turning to face him. Her eyes were large and dark with confusion as she looked at him. “I—I’m just scared, Tray. Scared of—of men. You’ve been kind to Sean and me, but so much has happened so quickly….” Her voice trailed off. “I feel up and down, as if I can no longer control my emotions. I cry endlessly…I curse at you….”

  Tray leaned forward, picking up one of her damp, cool hands. “I’m trying to put myself in your place, Aly. If I had been raped and then waited to be thrown on a cart meant for the dead, I imagine I’d be feeling a bit up and down myself.” He began to rub light circles on the palm of her hand. “And you had good reason to detest me.”

  Alyssa felt a tingle of pleasure radiating outward from where he was caressing her palm. “What do you mean?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I realize that the label of mistress is degrading to you. And for that, I apologize. I only want to protect you.” Tray bowed his head, at a loss for words as his own emotions suddenly boiled to the surface. “I hope you know I would never touch you unless you gave me permission. Love between two people is a beautiful experience, not one of pain. I’d never want to cause you pain, Alyssa.” His voice cracked. “Never.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and Alyssa automatically reached out to Tray, her hands coming to rest against his robed chest. His body tightened with want of her, but he stilled himself, grateful that she would reach out on her own accord.

  “My heart knows that,” Alyssa admitted, “but my head does not. Tray, how can I become unafraid of you?”

  He gently cradled her hands between his larger ones. “First, by thinking of me as your friend. Someone with whom you can share hours of enjoyment. And second, by not comparing me to Vaughn. I know he’s my half brother, Alyssa, but that’s where the similarity ends. Does Vaughn’s presence, unlikable as he is, erase the trust you had come to feel for me until he came?”

  Alyssa hung her head, a cloak of utter peace blanketing her as Tray continued to hold her hands. “I was so afraid that you would take me as I was taken before,” she choked out. “And it hurt so much….”

  Tray whispered her name reverently and released her hands. He gently settled his arms around her trembling shoulders to hold her, hold her until she stopped shaking like a frightened doe trapped by a hunter. “Believe me,” he told her rawly, “it doesn’t have to be painful. Loving is the most beautiful of all pleasures, Aly.”

  “Those are words, Tray. I want to believe you, but I can’t.”

  He released her, his hands sliding down the length of her slender arms and coming to rest upon her fingers once again. “Time,” he soothed, “in time, your horrible memories will fade. For now, let’s learn to become friends again. Just as before, Aly, you and I taking our daily rides, visiting the foals and teaching you to play the harp. Nothing has changed with Vaughn’s arrival except that you are my mistress and will share my bed.” His hands tightened briefly on her fingers. “I won’t demand any more from you. I want the woman who comes to me to be joyous and willing, not frightened.”

  Alyssa swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “Just as before?” Her voice held a note of hope.

  “The same as before. The only thing that’s changed is that you and Sean can never return to Ireland, Aly.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you accept that?”

  Closing her eyes, Alyssa nodded. “I’ll never see it…”

  Tray grimaced, feeling the hotness of tears in his own eyes. “You see through your heart anyway, little one. I’m sorry you’ve lost your sight, but there are other far more precious things about you that make me very glad I’m your friend.”

  She pulled her hands free to wipe the tears from her cheeks, managing a sliver of a smile as she lifted her face to him. “Tray?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me touch your face. I want to know what you look like. Please?”

  His gray eyes grew warm with love. It took every shred of his self-control not to crush her in his arms and hold her forever. “Just between friends?” he asked huskily, easing the tension he saw flitting across her face.

  “Yes, just between friends….”

  “I’m at your disposal, my lady. I promise not to bite one of your lovely fingers should you touch my mouth.”

  Alyssa’s eyes grew soft with trust and she hesitantly reached out.

  Tray watched, hypnotized by her hands; he saw the small, yellowed calluses on each of her palms, her short, clean nails, the slender expanse of fingers meant to play the harp, glide gracefully over the keys of a pianoforte or stroke a man’s flesh into throbbing, heated life. He closed his eyes, achingly aware of her butterfly touch as her fingers lightly combed through his hair.

  She laughed softly, running strands of his hair through her fingers. “Your hair feels like Rasheed’s mane!”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult, my lady?”

  Her smile widened with wonder as she pressed her fingers across his scalp, lost in the thick silk of his softly waving hair. “A compliment, my lord. Your hair is clean and thick.” She wrinkled her nose. “Many young men are so unkempt. They allow their hair to hang in dirty snarls or strands that are greasy and smelly.” She leaned forward, her face lightly brushing against his cheek as she inhaled the scent of his hair.

  Sitting back, Alyssa looked satisfied. If she could have seen the sheer look of hunger on his face, she would have run from him. Tray tried to control the wild explosions igniting within him that her unexpected nearness had set off. He had caught a whiff of her feminine scent combined with the jasmine soap she used every morning. Friends, he groaned to himself, friends. If he so much as made a provocative move toward Alyssa, he would destroy the crystalline trust building fragilely between them.

  He gritted his teeth, forcing his hardening body to remain beneath his iron-willed command. He tried to remember Sorche’s advice. If he gave Alyssa friendship, she would give him her trust. And with trust comes love…. He swallowed convulsively. “Well? From one friend to another, what is your opinion of my hair? Do I pass your inspection?”

  Alyssa smiled. “You have beautiful hair, like Rasheed. I love running my hands through his silken mane.”

  And God, what I’d give to have you run your hands through my hair with such carefree abandon, he thought torridly. Making an effort to keep his tone light, he asked, “Am I passable as a friend, so far? You’d better go on. I’m afraid your opinion of me will alter drastically when you meet my face.”

  Without a word, Alyssa lightly ran her hands over his face, causing a nerve-tingling sensation that made him draw in his breath sharply. Her expression was sober with concentration as her fingers lingered on his strong jaw. She then touched her own face as if to compare its structure to his, and then shifted her hands to his face once again.

  “A square face?”

  “Some would call it less kindly than that, my lady.”

  Alyssa smiled gently. The prickle of his skin beneath her fingertips sent tiny tingles through her. “A powerful jaw.”

  “Some would say stubborn.”

  “No, I think it’s that of a
man who knows his own mind,” she answered several moments later. Alyssa lifted her hands, skimming his forehead, brows and eyes. She felt tiny lines at the corner of each eye, then trailed her fingers downward to feel the indented lines around his mouth. She returned to his brow.

  “Do you scowl much?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can feel the lines….”

  “Lines of life, little one. I’ve earned every one of them.”

  Her lips parted as she touched his eyes. “You have thick lashes,” she murmured, “like me.”

  “Shades my eyes from the sun. Yours, on the other hand, make your lovely green eyes look even larger and more beautiful.”

  Alyssa colored beneath his husky compliment. “Let’s see if your eyes are set close together. You know there’s an old horseman’s adage that an animal or man with close-set eyes is mean, stubborn and evil? And if they are set wide, the horse or man is of a kind nature. Like Rasheed—his eyes are far apart.”

  “I don’t know if I like being compared to that stallion quite so much,” Tray grumbled good-naturedly. He watched as Alyssa measured the distance between her eyes with her own fingers and then proceeded to measure the width of his with the same method. “Well? Am I mean, stubborn and evil?”

  She laughed. “No, my lord. You’ll be glad to know that you are probably gentle-tempered, easy to get along with and intelligent.”

  “Do I have to live up to all those accolades, my lady?”

  “Will it distress you to do so, my lord?”

  Tray grinned. He was distressed right now, thinking that the bulge pressing against his robe would terrify Alyssa if she could see what kind of effect she had upon him. “I can probably meet the intelligence part, but I’m afraid I destroyed my gentle temper with you earlier today. And I never remember being easy to get along with. Could you settle for only one out of those three?”

  “I must think about that, my lord.” Her smile lingered as her gentle fingers grazed his nose. “Ah, another horse saying comes to mind.”

  Tray groaned. “Now what?”

  She stroked his nose and then touched her own to compare. “You may recall what they say about roman-nosed horses? They’re stubborn and mule-headed.”

  “And does that apply to me?”

  She traced the fine, aristocratic length of his nose and his large, well-shaped nostrils. “You have a bump on your nose.”

  “I got that fighting one day. I took on four English boys who were calling me names because I insisted upon speaking in Welsh. Needless to say, I came out a bloodied loser. Sorche said my nose was broken. The scolding she gave me hurt more than my nose did at that time,” he remembered fondly.

  Alyssa shared his laughter, her hands brushing across his lips. She felt his smile disappear.

  “Don’t stop smiling. I like your laughter,” she begged. “It sounds like thunder rumbling from your chest and reminds me of the storms I love so much.”

  The urge to draw her fingers gently into his mouth and worship them with his tongue nearly shattered Tray. He shut his eyes, holding on to the last shred of his control as she explored his lips.

  “A strong mouth,” she murmured. And then she gave him a wicked, teasing look. “A mouth used to giving orders.”

  “And having them carried out. Don’t forget that.”

  She smiled, liking the soft, upward curve of his lips. “If you say so, my lord.”

  “I suppose you’re going to come up with some horse tale about my lips now. No doubt a horse with thin lips means he’s a sore loser or some such thing.”

  Alyssa flashed him a genuine smile, her fingers lingering across his mouth. She had been kissed a few times before, sloppy kisses stolen quickly by nervous boys. The shape of Tray’s mouth was bold, the lower lip full and sensual to her inspection. “No…but I never trust a man with thin lips or thick lips.” She shuddered. “Thick lips remind me of a pig! I always see them on fat, rich Englishmen.”

  Tray burst into laughter, catching her hands and pressing a kiss to them. “My lady, it sounds as if I’ve passed your inspection.”

  She sat back, allowing her hands to rest in her lap, her features relaxed. “You have. A strong face molded by many experiences, I’d venture. You have lines of laughter at the corners of your eyes and—” her voice lowered to a husky whisper “—your mouth is…well, just right.”

  “Neither a pig nor a man to be distrusted, eh?” Tray observed wryly, lulled into the peace that enveloped them.

  “No, never a pig. As for trust…” She shrugged and gave him a shy look. “I think we both have to work on that. I have to learn to get over my distrust of men, and you have to put up with me while I do.”

  Tray rose, pulling the blanket off Alyssa’s shoulders and helping her to her bare feet. The firelight shone through the thin flannel, outlining the shapely curves of her womanly body. He took a deep breath and led her toward the bed. “Friends have all the time in the world,” he reminded her.

  Alyssa nodded, feeling languorously and pleasantly tired as she slid back into the bed. She curled up, the pillow nestled against her body as Tray covered her with the quilt. Closing her eyes, Alyssa was already embracing sleep when the mattress sunk with Tray’s weight.

  Chapter Ten

  “My lord,” Stablemaster Thomas called from one end of the aisle, “Sorche has asked for you.”

  Tray hesitated, glancing over the back of Rasheed. They had just gotten back from their ride and he was in the middle of putting the stallion back into his stall. For the past five days, Vaughn had followed them like a hawk waiting to strike. Alyssa was holding Old Ned’s reins, waiting in the center aisle. Thomas was with her, so Tray felt it safe to leave Aly in the stable.

  “Very well. Come and take her horse, Thomas.”

  The old man hurried toward them. “Yes, my lord. Miss Alyssa?”

  “I’d like to brush him down just a bit, Thomas.”

  Thomas risked a glance toward Lord Trayhern.

  “Let her,” Tray said to Thomas. “I’ll be right back out and we’ll finish the job on Old Ned together,” he promised Alyssa, turning away.

  Alyssa led Ned to his stall and unsaddled him. The ride had been exhilarating and she felt a new, powerful link with Tray since waking this morning. It was as Tray had promised—their budding relationship was back where it had been before Vaughn had shattered their lives so abruptly. How could two brothers be so impossibly different? But sweet Mary and Joseph, her heart yearned that Tray be exactly what he said he was—unlike Vaughn in every way. She leaned forward, closing her eyes, resting her brow gently against Ned’s forehead. The old gray gelding stood quietly, as if sensing her need for comfort.

  As she raised her head and opened her eyes, Alyssa noticed something different. She blinked again. Was it sunlight striking her? Why did everything seem so bright? She rubbed her eyes, keeping one hand on Ned. When Alyssa reopened them, she gasped, her heart beginning to pound. She could just make out the outline of her gloved hand as it rested against Ned.

  “So, there you are.”

  Alyssa gasped, whirling toward Vaughn’s snarling voice. She saw the vague outline of a tall, well-proportioned man standing just outside the stall door. Alyssa gripped Ned’s mane, her lips parting in abject terror. “What do you want?”

  Vaughn smiled and let himself into the stall, making sure it was latched. He kept Thomas busy saddling a horse for him outside of the stable. His brows drew downward. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful? Her features were clean and classical; it galled him that Alyssa looked better than most of the gently bred women of his class.

  “Want?” he asked in a silken tone as he approached her. “I should think you know what I want. I took it from you before easily enough.”

  Alyssa choked back a scream and her eyes widened as he approached. His face! God, she could see his face! It was the same terrible visage that had leered over her like a slavering animal as she lay sprawled on the deck. She backed away, holdin
g out her hands. “No…no…leave me alone!”

  Vaughn’s lips drew back in a sickening smile as he halted a foot from where she crouched against the back of the stall. “Never,” he said softly. “I’ll haunt you, you Irish whore. I’ll make you wish you had died aboard that ship. Too bad that clubbing didn’t finish you off. I thought it had.” He reached out, idly fingering a long, silken strand of her hair.

  Alyssa flinched. Her pulse fluttered erratically in her throat. She had to escape! With a cry, she lurched awkwardly past Vaughn, flying toward the door. Old Ned leaped aside as she fled by him. Just as she managed to lift the latch that would lead her to freedom, she felt Vaughn’s fist wrapping cruelly around her hair.

  With a savage jerk, Alyssa fell backward, landing heavily on the straw-covered floor. Vaughn started to kneel down beside her, and she screamed, trying to fight him off. Her nails raked the side of his face, drawing blood.

  “Why, you little—”

  Alyssa heard a snarl and saw the dark shape of another man hurtling by her. Vaughn was pulled from her as if he were a mere rag doll. She scrambled away from the two men, crawling to the safety of one corner as they fought. The Welsh gelding was frantic, his hooves brushing close to her, and Alyssa curled herself up into a tight ball in an effort to protect herself from the panicked animal. Sounds of grunts, curses and flesh striking flesh filled the air as the men rolled and flailed about on the floor. Alyssa watched in horrified fascination as the heavier, darker man wrestled Vaughn to the floor, mercilessly pinning him.

  Tray’s mouth tightened as he landed a blow squarely on Vaughn’s jaw, and he continued to pummel his half brother until Vaughn screamed. His long, powerful fingers closed around his half brother’s throat.

  “I told you,” he rasped, “never to touch her. Never!”

  Vaughn was breathing hard, his blue eyes glazed with hatred. “You struck me!”

  Tray wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his white shirtsleeve. “Listen to me, Vaughn. You will leave Alyssa alone or I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand that? She’s mine, Vaughn, mine alone. No man touches her. She’s under my protection.”