by C. A. Szarek
“Are you better now?” he whispered.
She met his very blue gaze again. “As well as can be expected.”
“Good.”
Elissa paused, because his expression said he was far from done speaking.
His face darkened. Gone was concern for her wellbeing. He was angry. “Where the hell did you think you were going? You lied to me.”
She averted her gaze. Heat burned the back of her neck as it crept up, all the way up, until even her ears stung—and it had nothing to do with the rushing wind or chill of being wet. Sir Alasdair had every right to be angry with her.
“You refused my request for a ride.” Her protest was small, shouting even to her that the notion was subterfuge.
He was silent—too silent—but she didn’t miss his growl as he urged his mare to a walk. The horse neighed and tossed her head.
“Shhh, lass. You ran hard, did me proud, my Tess.” The knight moved his arm and Elissa shifted against him. She couldn’t see, but she heard the patting noise as Sir Alasdair caressed the mare’s neck, soothing her. “You, on the other hand, I couldn’t be more disappointed with.”
Elissa’s stomach flip-flopped and she didn’t have the guts to look at him again. She took comfort in his solid form against her. She was safe again, and even if she wouldn’t be able to admit it out loud, she needed him. “I’m going to my childhood home.”
He stilled.
Her heart kicked up again.
“What?” Sir Alasdair barked.
“Castle Durroc is not far from here, and I need to see it.”
The knight shifted, then sat her up higher, but said nothing. He’d never been so silent with her, in the days she’d known him. The Sir Alasdair Elissa knew was charming, witty, and open. Very talkative. It was almost as though he was another person. Containing himself. From lashing out in anger?
Or…is it something else?
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “What do you know?”
“I should be asking the same of you, lass.”
“The king betrayed me,” she bit out.
Sir Alasdair’s expression tightened, his brow furrowed. “How so?”
“My family was murdered.”
He was too quiet again. Averted his gaze, too.
“You knew!” Betrayal washed over her again and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She choked on another sob.
Her knight…her protector…had betrayed her, too?
Weight settled on her chest, making her lungs burn as she struggled for breath.
Why do I hurt so much?
She wanted to pummel his chest. Or yank away from him. She could do neither, since she had to cling to him so she wouldn’t slip off his horse.
Elissa cursed the tears that stung her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of the man who’d been assigned to trap her inside Castle Aldern. She sniffled.
His gaze swung back around. The knight’s expression softened, and she cursed that, too.
Why did she care if Sir Alasdair hadn’t told her? She didn’t know him.
It doesn’t matter.
But repeating the idea didn’t lessen her pain.
Chapter Twelve
Dammit.
Angry he could handle. Crushed he could not.
She had tears in her eyes.
Alasdair’s ire dissolved. He wanted to make her feel better. Banish that look from her pretty face. He wanted to cup her cheeks, wipe away the tear that’d crept its way down, but he didn’t.
Lady Elissa broke eye contact and sniffled, but when she glanced back at him her expression was clearer, harder. She’d composed herself.
Good lass. Strong.
He still wanted to kiss her pert little nose. It was red with the effort to hold back her emotions, but he admired her strength.
And that storm…another damn.
She was powerful, without effort, more so than in the gardens. The winds had been at gale-strength and they were both soaked to the bone. Had he not held on to Tess with all his might, he wouldn’t have managed to avoid falling on his arse. “Lass—”
“I…” They spoke at the same time.
The pain in her hazel eyes undid him. It took all he was made of not to tell her what Leargan and the king had told him about her past.
He couldn’t.
He shouldn’t.
But as she looked at him after the scare that had taken five—no, ten—turns off his life, he couldn’t refuse her. “Aye, I did know about your parents.”
“And my brother,” Lady Elissa snapped.
“Aye, and the laddie.”
Her countenance tightened, her brows knitting, her mouth a hard line. Her nose was an even brighter red, but the sheen of tears in those beautiful eyes was what took his breath away. His chest tightened.
Why can’t I breathe normally?
“You knew. You knew. You knew.” She repeated the phrase over and over until he felt like a piece of hammered shite. Betrayal saturated her voice.
“It wasn’t my place to tell you.” Alasdair winced at his defensiveness.
She glared, which was better than her sobbing. He needed the solid ground mutual anger offered.
Lady Elissa grabbed his doublet with small tight fists and yanked. Her grip slipped on the wet leather and Alasdair tightened his hold on her torso.
He chuckled; he couldn’t help it. She was rather adorable with that black look on her face, and her hazel eyes flashing.
Did she think she was going to strike him?
Alasdair stilled, instead of tugging away.
She glared harder.
“Easy, lass. I’ll not let you fall.”
“I want to get my horse and continue on my journey,” she bit out.
“I’d reckon your mare will run until she’s exhausted. We’ll catch her one way or another. Worry not.”
“And?” She arched a fair eyebrow.
“And?”
Lady Elissa glowered. “I will continue on my journey.”
“Nay, we will return to the castle. Castle Aldern.”
“Nay.”
Alasdair sighed. He wasn’t going to argue with her. “You could’ve been true to me about your desires to see your holding.” The censure he’d packed into his voice made her wince, but he didn’t regret it. He ignored how his stomach jumped, too.
Her expression lightened a touch. “So you would’ve taken me?”
It was Alasdair’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “No.”
The lass in his arms narrowed her eyes. “Then it matters not.” She released his doublet and shifted, trying to sit up taller. The soft roundness of her breasts pressed into his chest.
He swallowed a groan and helped her straighten the rest of the way. It didn’t help his discomfort at the intimate contact. Now she was fully in his arms, facing him.
Alasdair needed to turn her so her back was against him. Touching her was still a very bad idea, but her back was preferable to chest against—perfect—breasts.
She looped her arms around his neck and shifted closer, rubbing her hip against his crotch in the process. Sitting on the pommel of his saddle had to be uncomfortable, so he didn’t tell her to stop moving, but soon the lass ended up with her bottom—also perfect—directly on his thighs.
Sucking in a breath he hoped to the Blessed Spirit she didn’t sense, he threatened to lop his cock off when she adjusted again and ground into him. His manhood wanted to stiffen. To be used. Tingles hit him in waves, radiating out from his bollocks. He tried not to grunt or move at all. More friction would only result on heightened discomfort.
“I need to do this, Sir Alasdair. I need to see it for myself.” The wobble of her bottom lip did him in.
He swore—savagely.
Those big eyes were wide—and misty again—when their gazes collided, but damned if he was going to apologize for her lady’s ears.
She’d have to deal with his anger. It was her fault. “You put me in an uncomfortable position, lass
.” In more than one way. “The king—”
“Doesn’t have to find out.” Lady Elissa held her chin held high. “We’re already far from the castle walls.”
“And we should return before anyone can discover you’re—we’re—missing.”
Her lip disappeared inside her mouth as she gnawed on it.
Alasdair’s need to taste her was paramount. It warred with his sense of right and wrong. “If I consider taking you, you will vow you won’t do anything foolish like this again.” Statement. Not question. He wouldn’t accept anything less than her word. Shouldn’t even accept that. He should take her back to Castle Aldern without delay.
Hope danced across Lady Elissa’s countenance. It lit her up from the inside out. The lass in his arms glowed. Like he’d given her a gift.
His chest swelled. His heart stuttered. Alasdair swallowed. Hard. With her looking at him like that, he’d promise her anything.
That scared the shite out of him.
Her smile sealed the deal. He’d give her his soul if she but asked.
“Aye.”
“Aye?” The word cracked and he cleared his throat.
Her nod was solemn. “Aye. I promise I’ll not run away again. If you take me to Castle Durroc now.”
Alasdair grunted. And bit back a few more curses.
“Is that an ‘aye?’ Will you take me?” Expectation infused her tone as much as it did her gorgeous face.
He nodded, because he didn’t have the bollocks to try to speak. If he did, he’d likely crack like a lad yet to become a man. Or worse…assure her he’d like to take her in an entirely different way.
Lady Elissa squealed and crushed even closer, hugging her arms around him and chanting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Alasdair froze. Sucked back another groan as her supple flesh pressed into his chest. His arms rose of their own accord to return her embrace, no matter how he chided himself it was inappropriate. With her he had no decorum, and his honor teetered on the brink of misstep. A mistake he couldn’t afford to make. What he wanted with her—physically—was something he could never take back. So he could never take her.
When she pulled away and looked at him, it took all he was made of not to kiss her. She was so beautiful, so honestly, openly grateful. And he was the wretch who wanted to take advantage of her body against his and sample her mouth.
“Is something wrong, Sir Alasdair? You look as if you’re in pain. Did I hurt you when I landed in your lap?”
He wanted to snort. He was in pain, all right. “Everything is wrong.” Technically not a lie. Self-disgust and guilt twirled in his stomach. Wanting her is wrong. “This isn’t a good idea, lass,” Alasdair said as gently as he could.
Anything to distract himself from the feel of her against him.
A tiny frown was born on her delectable mouth and widened, slowly taking over her lips. “I…I…”
He mourned the loss of her smile, especially since it’d been his fault. “I’ll keep my word and take you to Castle Durroc. But we haven’t much time. We need to be back at Castle Aldern before supper is served to avoid questions. You know that as well as I, my lady.”
“You’re right.” She looked down as she whispered.
“Let’s get your horse.”
“Aye, as you wish.”
He wished something a whole hell of a lot different…more…but Alasdair kicked Tess forward, praying to the Blessed Spirit this decision wouldn’t bite him in the arse.
It was too bad King Nathal hadn’t left that morning instead of tomorrow.
* * * *
Nothing.
Sorrow engulfed her and tears burned her eyes as Elissa took the fourth—or was it the fifth?—turn around the great room of the castle she’d been born in. She clutched the small painting of her family in a tight fist. She’d removed it from the frame to bring it with her, but she couldn’t look at it.
“Why doesn’t anyone live here?” she whispered, more to herself than to her knight. She sniffled and hoped he hadn’t noticed. With a labored sigh, she buried the small canvas in her borrowed breeches’ pocket.
“I know not, lass.”
If she wasn’t so angry at King Nathal, perhaps she would’ve asked him. When they’d ridden in, Elissa had seen the property as something she could be proud of, but the reminder of fire that’d been a lie bit at her like a rabid dog.
Trees lined the direct road to the castle gates, offering beauty and a natural shaded canopy. The fields lay in view, neatly farmed, even though they were past harvest now, and the weather was growing colder. They were still beautiful, a sight to behold.
The grounds were kept, groomed and farmed by a man named Thomad Uncel. He had a wife, and several grown sons, as well as a staff of farmers.
No one greeted their ride in, and the gates had been open. No one intercepted them, either. No one prevented them from entering the castle. The doors hadn’t been barred, either.
There was only a small bailey, with no crofter cabins lining the walls like the much larger Castle Aldern, but there were stables inside the gate as well as two carriages that looked ready for horses at any moment.
Elissa had sensed magic, like a warding or protection spell over the whole area, but whatever the nature of the magic, it hadn’t prevented their entrance.
She stepped closer to the wide hearth in the main great room. It was really too small to be called a hall, but she imagined the room lit, alive with laughter and love.
A small family sharing meals.
My family.
The small canvas burned a whole in her pocket, begging her to pull it out and look at it; hold it.
She couldn’t.
There was no dais, but there was a head table, as well as four more long tables perpendicular to the one where her father and mother no doubt would’ve sat.
Had sat.
Would her brother have joined them? Or would he have taken meals in the nursery with a caretaker?
Because it wasn’t proper for the children to eat with the adults of the castle.
King Nathal had never proscribed to that particular facet of decorum. The prince and princess, as well as Elissa—as their companion—had always taken meals in the great hall of Castle Rowan. Seated on the dais next to the king and queen.
She liked to think her parents would’ve been like that. Inclusive. Full of love for her and her brother.
Elissa forced her eyes away from the head table. All the chairs were covered in white sheets of fabric, as if shouting their opposition to disuse.
The room wasn’t cold, but neither was it warm.
A welcoming fire should be burning in the central hearth. The space should be alight. People should be bustling, getting ready for the meal.
Her people.
Emptiness echoed, making her ears scald and her heart hurt. Pain threatened to double her over. Elissa struggled to breathe through the tightness in her chest. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Magic tingled up and down her body, but she fought to control herself. Pushed her powers back so she could gather her composure.
“Lass?”
She didn’t answer the knight. Just couldn’t. Nor did she look at him. Couldn’t do that, either.
Elissa extended her hand and called to her magic. Warmth raced over her arms, but it didn’t heal the agony inside. She closed her eyes, only to sense the bright flame now dancing at the center of her palm.
Giving a small smile, she opened her eyes and stared at the blue center of the growing fire-bud. It burned brightly, and she shoved more magic into it. The fire gave off an inordinate amount of light for a spark its size.
Using magic—instead of fighting it—made her focus and made it easier to breathe…but only a little.
“Lass?” Sir Alasdair’s concern bathed the repeated word.
“I couldn’t see. Now I can.” She gave him a small smile as she finally turned to him.
“Like in the gardens.”
�
��Aye, like the flame I showed Lord Avery.” She walked the length of the hearth again. “I want to see more. I want to see it all.”
“All right.”
She froze. Hadn’t expected him to acquiesce. Elissa mentally banished her tears and threw him a glance. “Thank you.” Even that whisper shook.
His blue eyes scorched but he said nothing. After a moment, her knight offered a curt nod.
“I know we haven’t much time,” she said.
Again, Sir Alasdair said nothing. He stepped closer, and she could feel his body heat at her back. She shivered and it had nothing to do with their wet clothing.
Elissa wanted him to reach for her. Hold her, like he had on the back of his horse.
He didn’t.
Her cloak hung heavy over her body, and the too-big tunic drooped off one shoulder, despite the fabric covering it. Tremors took her over, chasing each other down her spine. Partly due to the chill in the air, she supposed. But mostly it was due to her shaky emotions and his closeness. For some reason, she wanted him closer. To feel safe in his arms, against his hard chest.
She’d never been so scared as when her mare had taken off. But he’d…saved her.
They’d caught up to her horse, too. The poor lass had finally stopped in a small copse of trees right inside Durroc property lines. At least she’d been fleeing in the right direction, and not away from Elissa’s holding.
She favored her right front leg, but after Sir Alasdair examined her, he declared she’d be fine with rest. Nothing was broken. The gray horse’s breathing was heavier than he liked, though, so even if she didn’t have a small limp, Elissa would have to ride with the knight. He’d be stuck with her the same way when they headed back to Greenwald Main, too.
“My lady.” Warm breath kissed the shell of her left ear.
Elissa ignored him and moved away, so she wouldn’t turn and jump in his arms. “I should dry us. Especially since the storm was my fault.”
Sir Alasdair cleared his throat. “Can you?”
She risked eye contact and her heart sped up. “I think so. I can use warm—or hot—wind.”
“Aye?” He shifted on his feet. The sound of his boots echoed in the large, almost empty room. “Then…do so, if you wish.”