Highland Shadows (Beautiful Darkness Series Book 1)

by Baldwin, Lily

  With a start, he jerked back. Their eyes locked. The sky blue of her irises appeared even more iridescent, glowing in the dim light of the fire. She pulled him down again with surprising strength. Her mouth claimed his. His heart beat wild with need. His hands reached down and grabbed a handful of her tunic, pulling the hem higher and higher until it bunched around her waist. His hands stroked her hot, firm thighs. She cried out and spread her legs, opening herself to him. He could smell her body, wet and hungry for his. He was hard and throbbing. He wanted to fill her, to drive himself deep into her ready warmth. She arched against him. He could feel her straining to open herself. She cried out the instant before a staggering pain tore down his back, causing him to seize. He wrenched free from her grasp, moving out of reach.

  *

  What had she done? Was there nothing with which she could be trusted?

  She closed her eyes. His heart pounded her mind. Breathe. Just Breathe. She had to regain control. With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his stunned gaze. His chest heaved while he stared at her. Pain and yearning played a confused dance across his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt ye.”

  His hand swiped at his back.

  She gasped when she saw his bloody fingertips. “Oh, God. Oh, Alex. Forgive me.” She sat up and scurried toward him on her knees. “Show me your back.”

  He hesitated for a moment but then turned. Her hands flew to her mouth to contain the cry that pushed against her lips. His shirt hung in tatters. Long, angry welts dripped with blood where she had raked her nails down his back. She had not meant to hurt him. Overcome with desire, she had lost control and forgot her strength.

  “It feels as if I’ve had a nasty encounter with a lash,” he said. His body jerked when she touched him. Tears filled her eyes. His estimation of the damage was not far off.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt ye. I…I’ve never been intimate in that way with a man. I didn’t know what to expect. I never knew it could be like that.”

  He turned then, wincing. He stared her hard in the eye, but she looked away from his scrutiny.

  “When ye put it like that ‘tis rather flattering,” he said.

  She looked up to see the smile she had heard in his voice. Blushing, her hands moved to cover her face.

  “Come here,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms.

  She laid her head against his chest. His strong arms surrounded her. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck for a moment longer, she took a deep breath, then pulled away. She was not the one in need of care.

  “Allow me to right this wrong,” She motioned for him to turn back around.

  “Have ye any experience dressing wounds?” he asked, nervously. “I can wake Jamie.”

  “Don’t ye dare. I’d die of embarrassment. Anyway, more than likely he is awake and feigns sleep as a courtesy, which I’m only too happy to accept. Now, sit still. This might sting.” She reached for the flask of ale and made a show of ripping a portion of her tunic and opening the flask. But then quietly she closed it and set it aside. She held the scrap of tunic to her lips and wet the fabric with her tongue. Gently, she stroked the cloth over his seeping skin. After several swipes, the bleeding slowly began to stop.

  “Ye’ve a gentle touch,” he said. Then he chuckled. “Well, your touch can be gentle.”

  She smiled at his jest. Still, a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. Her touch could bring death, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Already the pain is less,” he said.

  Again she moistened the fabric with her tongue. She could not heal the long gashes entirely, but she had fully quelled the bleeding, and the wound appeared less angry.

  “Ye’ll live,” she whispered.

  He turned to face her, but she could not meet his gaze.

  “Don’t fret. It feels much better now. Forgive me. I must have overreacted.”

  She let him pull her back into his arms. Cradling her, he lay back on the blankets. Once more he curled around her from behind. She nestled against his chest and allowed herself several deep breaths.

  “Just rest, my wife,” he whispered in her ear.

  His wife.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. She was not a wife. She was a monster.

  CHAPTER 8

  For several weeks now Alex had been a married man, although he rarely felt like a husband. Upon their arrival in Sonas, Cora glanced at her surroundings and then straightaway asked to be brought to her room. Taking all of her meals alone, she had locked herself in and everyone else out, including him. On several occasions, he had followed behind Margaret when she brought a food tray to Cora’s door. He stayed, hoping to catch a glimpse of her when she took the tray into her room, but it was as if she had known he waited there. Her door remained shut, her food untouched. After a while, he surrendered and left her to eat in peace.

  The clan had begun to talk. Rumors abounded about his strange wife. Margaret worried and badgered him with questions, for which he had no answer. He had even overheard servants gossiping in the kitchen, blaming her absence on him. They had assumed she was afraid of him. He did not resent their conclusions so long as they thought well of her. And so far, everyone did. The generosity of her dowry had renewed his clan’s spirit. For the first time in years, their stores were no longer bare. Besides grain, William had also sent along seed, sheep, and two of his finest horses, a sire and a dam. Alex had been elated when he first eyed the new horse flesh. They both possessed the best temperaments and their sizes would likely produce a strong foal. It would take several years to bring the stock to a noteworthy place, but he delighted in the challenge. Already the health of his clan seemed improved. Edmund had even smiled when he handed Alex the month’s summary of their accounts.

  Although grateful for the material blessings of his union, his joy was bittersweet. He had a wife whom he wished to know better but who refused to see him.

  “I ken what ye think,” Jamie said when Alex confessed his worry for Cora.

  “I did not ask ye what I thought. I ken my own mind. I wanted to know what ye think, but ye can forget about it now,” Alex snapped as he went back to the task of cleaning out one of the horse’s stalls. He scanned the small barn. “We’ll need to expand the stables.”

  “Do not change the subject,” Jamie said.

  Alex raised his brow at him. Then he leaned out the door. “Fergus,” he shouted.

  Jamie started backing away. “What do ye need Fergus for?”

  Alex grinned. “Fergus,” he shouted again.

  In moments, the large, heavy set man filled the doorway. “Good morrow, Alex,” he said, brushing unruly red hair from his eyes.

  Alex smiled. “’Tis a fine morning to be sure.” Then he pointed to Jamie. “‘Twill be even finer when ye drag him from my sight.”

  Fergus smiled at Jamie. “Chieftain’s orders. Don’t give me trouble, and I won’t have to hurt ye.”

  Crossing the room, Jamie reached to place his arm around Fergus’s shoulder. “I’ll be no trouble at all. In fact, we can walk to the village together, and I’ll tell ye what I wanted to talk to Alex about.”

  “Jamie MacKenzie, ye’re a miserable blackguard,” Alex snapped. “Forget what I said, Fergus, and leave us.”

  Fergus shrugged and trudged back outside.

  “Ye’re the Devil,” Alex said when they were alone again. “Alright, I’m listening.”

  “Ye’re letting your own doubts and worries cloud your thinking where Cora’s concerned.”

  “What are ye talking about? She won’t come out of her room. What else can it be but an aversion to me?”

  “Won’t come out of her room or can’t,” Jamie said.

  “What are ye getting at?”

  “She never left her room at home. Why?”

  “William is obviously troubled, and having lost his wife and his other daughter, he must have felt it was the only way to
guarantee Cora’s safety.”

  “Locking her up like a prisoner? Nay, I don’t believe he’d do that. Ye’re looking for easy answers when there’s something very mysterious about your new wife. She’s hiding something.”

  Alex shook his head. “Forget what I said. The marriage is done. It matters not what she hides. She’s my wife.”

  “I could not agree more. Look around ye.” Jamie raised his arms in a sweeping gesture. “Your clan is beginning to heal. There is promise in the air, and it cannot all be attributed to Cora’s dowry. The gift of the Ross’s grain could not have ushered in the sunshine. It has barely rained or snowed since she arrived. And I swear to ye, I saw bluebells peeking through the snow by the old path into Daonnan Forest. I believe ‘tis a sign the fae are returning.” Jamie’s eyes glinted with excitement. “Go to her. Let her know she is not alone. Whatever her secret is, nothing will diminish her place here. Only I would see ye prosper from your marriage as much as your clan. Ye must find a way to reach out to her. I watched her stare at ye with admiration when ye exchanged vows. She wants to be yours, body and soul, but something holds her back.”

  *

  Alex marched through the great hall, then up a wide stairwell. When he reached the landing, he glanced right toward his room and the antechamber that was meant to belong to the lady of the keep. Squaring his shoulders, he turned left and headed down the long hallway passed guest quarters to the very last door. She had chosen the room farthest from his own. He shook his head, remembering Jamie’s advice. To understand his wife, he needed to put aside his own insecurities.

  Standing before the door, he rapped softly.

  “I’m not hungry, Margaret,” she called.

  Alex wondered how often Cora had sent Margaret and her food tray away. Perhaps she wasn’t eating enough. Worry for his wife mounted in his mind.

  “Cora, ‘tis I.” He waited for an answer that did not come.

  “’Tis Alex.”

  “I cannot see ye now,” she said.

  He could tell she stood near the door. He put his hand on the heavy wood that separated them. “Cora, we must speak.”

  “Please go away.” Her voice sounded tired and laced with sorrow.

  “Cora, I want to help ye.”

  Silence.

  “Cora, open this door. We can work though whatever is upsetting ye. If ye’re grieving for your father, then mayhap ye’d benefit from a visit with Father Gregor.”

  “Leave me be,” she shouted. He heard her footfalls cross the room.

  *

  Cora’s hands gripped her head as she rocked in her seat by the bare hearth. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. A power swelled within her too great to deny. She fought to maintain control while her thoughts remained fixed on Alex. When her father first took ill, he had become obsessed with seeing her properly matched before he died, but finding the right man had proved difficult. “He must be a man of unlimited kindness and unspeakable strength,” her father had once said.

  She sighed. There was no better way to describe Alex. Beneath his severe exterior beat a gentle, kind heart. She had known this the moment their eyes had locked, and she heard him speak. She could smell deceit. It always left a pungent taste on her tongue, but from the beginning, he had spoken only truth.

  Were his kindness and strength enough, however?

  The first night they had lain together when she lost control and tore open his back proved she could hurt him as easily as anyone else.

  She just had to do what she had done at Dun Brae Castle—lock herself away—and just like her friends from the village and the servants in the castle, eventually everyone would stop trying to see her. And she would be forgotten.

  She looked with longing at the door, savoring the memory of Alex’s heat through the slatted wood. His heartbeat continued to echo in her mind. More than anything she had wanted to fling the door wide and throw herself into his arms and forget the world, forget herself. She craved his comfort. She wanted to feel his strong hands on her body again, but once more her cruel fate had cheated her of another of life’s gifts. Love could never be hers. The beast within her would destroy him. She had no choice. She had done it once, and she would do it again. She would shut life out.

  CHAPTER 9

  Cora awoke with a start. Pain gripped her body. She swallowed the scream that rose to her lips as the bones in her back snapped.

  “Nay,” she cried, fighting the power that snaked through her cracking limbs. “Nay, please,” she whimpered, looking down at her hands that were warping and cracking. Her nails thickened and grew. She climbed out of bed on feet that were spreading and arching. Agony tore through her, but she fought the power. Then her ears pricked and her heart sank.

  The baying of wolves echoed in the night. She stumbled to her window and pulled back the tapestry. Their keening wails filled her room. She fought for control, her back rigid, her neck and face straining to resist, but the power was too great. Pain ripped through her tortured limbs, spreading like wildfire, melting the last of her will.

  *

  Alex sat alone with Jamie in the great hall.

  “Has anyone heard from Murdock?” he asked

  Jamie shook his head. “Not yet. We were the last to see him just before entering Dun Brae.” He took a long draught of ale. “Now ‘tis your turn. Has the Lady Cora come out?”

  “I tried to speak with her this morning, but she refused me. I’m baffled,” he confessed, shaking his head. “There were moments we shared before coming here…” He searched for the right words. “Somehow she was in me, soul deep. And now…” He shook his head. “She is a stranger hiding from me.”

  “Not just from ye,” Jamie said pointedly. “She hides from the world.”

  Alex nodded, refilling his drink. He stood and downed the contents of his mug. “This ends tonight. Keep everyone away. No one is to pass beyond the great hall.” He squared his shoulders and eyed the wide, stone stairwell. “If I must break down her door, then so be it. We will speak tonight.” His gaze shifted back to Jamie whose lips had upturned in a smile.

  “Dare laugh at my expense and I will beat ye from these halls.”

  Jamie threw his head back, laughing out loud. “Your might could send me soaring across the room with one blow, but your conscience would never let ye. I will see ye back here in a few minutes. She’ll not open the door to ye, and ye’ll not force her. I’ll just await your return and help ye drown your defeat.”

  Alex scowled. “Thank ye for bolstering my confidence. Ye’re a real friend.”

  Jamie raised his cup. “Ye can always count on the truth from me.”

  When Alex mounted the last step, he proceeded slowly down the hall. Torch fire lit his way, illuminating the door behind which hid his bride of five weeks. Although they had shared precious few moments together, they had been the most exhilarating he had ever known. Jamie was right. He would never force her to comply with his will. He resolved then to ease her from her hiding. He knew he needed to gain her trust—his mother’s words returned to him—all living creatures desire love and respect—he just had to have faith. She needed to know that whatever ill she faced, she did not do so alone, not anymore.

  He froze. A strange noised had emanated from beyond the closed door. He held his breath and listened—muffled, restrained, but unmistakable a cry of pain. He thundered down the hall and grabbed the handle on the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “Cora,” he shouted. “Cora!”

  She did not respond. He pressed his ear against the door and heard a strange snapping sound that reminded him of bones cracking. Then she whimpered.

  “God above, Cora, let me in!”

  “Go away,” she shouted.

  A cry of such agony came from behind the door. She was not lamenting her life. She was fighting for it. The sound gripped his heart with fear, forcing his hand. His fist beat against the wood. Again she screamed. “Cora,” he shouted. He drew back, then charged forward, ram
ming his shoulder into the door. Over and over again, he hammered his body into the wood.

  “Damnation,” he shouted as he raced back the way he’d come, calling for Jamie in the great hall.

  “What is it?” Jamie said, breathing hard.

  Alex bolted back around and thundered toward the door, throwing himself against it.

  Jamie’s eyes grew wide. “What are ye doing? Have ye gone mad? I only jested earlier. If ye break her door down, she’ll never learn to trust ye.”

  “Shut up,” Alex shouted, grabbing Jamie by the shoulders. “Someone is in there. Someone is killing her!”

  A low growl resonated from behind Cora’s door. Both men froze and turned to face the door.

  “What was—” Jamie started to say, but Alex shoved him back. “Get ready to charge.

  “Together,” Alex said.

  Jamie nodded.

  “Now,” he cried.

  They barreled down the hall and rammed the door, splintering the wood. Alex fell through, landing hard on his side. He turned his body, rising up on his hands and lifted his face to look into the room. He froze. A sleek white wolf with hackles raised high stood inches from his face. Its lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing two gleaming rows of sharp fangs

  “Do not move,” Jamie whispered behind him.

  From the corner of his eye, Alex glimpsed Jamie grab a large, sharp splinter of wood from the floor. The wolf’s eyes shifted to Jamie. It snarled and lunged forward, snapping the wood in half with its powerful jaws.

  “Christ Almighty,” Jamie swore, scurrying out of Alex’s view. “Is this another animal of yours ye rescued from the woods?”

  “Of course not,” Alex snapped.

  The wolf jerked its head, baring its teeth at Alex. Holding as still as possible, his eyes scanned the room. Cora was nowhere. Her kirtle, however, lay in a tattered heap on the floor. He turned his head very slightly to see the one corner outside his peripheral view, but the wolf lunged forward and snapped its jaws dangerously close to his face. Terror shot up his spine. He could feel the beast’s hot breath. Keeping his head low, his peered up and for the first time looked the wolf in the eye. Sky blue eyes glowed bright, standing out in shocking contrast to the white fur. The wolf growled, bearing down upon him. Alex dropped his gaze.