Moonstone

by Olivia Stocum

  William looked at Alice. The maid’s eyes welled as she pulled her cap free, brown hair tumbling down her shoulders. “Please help her.”

  “I will,” he said, Rhiannon shivering in his arms. She was so cold. He tucked her closer, reaching up to unpin the top portion of his plaid so that he could wrap it around her.

  “You can release me now.” Rhiannon pushed against his chest.

  “You’re too cold.”

  “Let me go.”

  He didn’t want to, but he doubted it would lessen her fear of him if he kept her. He released her and she slid out of reach, sitting with her knees tucked against her chest, her eyes devoid of expression.

  “I really should take you back to the hall,” he said, mostly to convince himself. What he really wanted was to take her back into his arms and head straight for the Highlands.

  Green eyes swiveled onto his. Her mouth moved, but she didn’t say a word. She felt her lip with the tip of her tongue. William looked down and saw her blood on him, streaking the linen of his shirt below his sleeveless leather jerkin. That was the second time he’d gotten her blood on him.

  “Bean-shìdh,” he said. “Fey lassie.”

  Her eyes widened. Then they narrowed on him.

  He immediately regretted his big mouth. At least he’d called her a banshee in Gaelic instead of English. “How do you fair? Besides the lip.”

  “Fine.” She rubbed her arm.

  “Let me see.”

  “Nay.” She pulled away. “It was not from the fall.”

  “Your guard, or Reginald?”

  “My guard.” She held up her palm. “Do not touch me.”

  “I willna hurt you.” He dropped his hands to his sides, acutely aware of his size. Various weapons were stashed about his person. He could take anything he wanted from her, right there, right then, and she would be powerless to stop it.

  It made him sick.

  She inched away, her palm still out.

  “Easy, lass,” he said in Gaelic. She wouldn’t be able to understand him, but he didn’t want her to. It gave him the freedom to say whatever he wanted. He shifted closer. “Fairy sprite. I dinna know what spell you’ve cast on me, but I’m completely past resistance.” He grinned. “I didna put up much resistance, did I?”

  Her burgundy brows pinched together.

  “I’d like to see you without your bruises,” he continued. William took her hand and laid her forearm over his knee. “And to see you when your curves fill out again.”

  She pulled back, and he decided that his bare knee was contraindicative to her comfort. Laying her arm over his thigh wasn’t likely to work any better—for obvious reasons—even if it was covered with his plaid.

  He settled on letting her keep her arm at her side while he worked his fingers over the joint in her elbow, then upward toward her shoulder, keeping in mind the way Geoffrey had manhandled her the night before.

  Rhiannon stiffened.

  “Just let him,” Alice said. “Please, my lady. For me, let him.”

  Rhiannon nodded.

  “Dinna move.” He didn’t want her to further injure herself. William set his jaw against her soft skin and intoxicating scent as he eased his fingers around her shoulder. The joint felt swollen, warmer than the rest of her arm, but not enough to alarm him. Her loose shirt gave no resistance, sliding further down than he’d expected.

  “’Tis not bad.” He backed away, his throat tight. “Let me know if the pain gets worse.”

  Rhiannon covered her shoulder and tucked her knees against her chest, rocking back and forth. She shook out her hair so that half of her face was covered with it.

  He wanted to touch her. “Tell me what is going on here?” he asked to distract himself before he pulled her back into his arms.

  “We are running away,” Alice said from on top of Connor’s horse.

  “Aye. I can see that.”

  “I cannot stay with Geoffrey.” It was Rhiannon.

  William turned back to her. “And I knew that as well.”

  “I told you,” Alice said. “I told you he wanted to help.”

  “You willna wed Geoffrey.” William was surprised by how easy it was to say out loud.

  Hope sparked in Rhiannon’s eyes, making his chest tighten and the heat of his needs surface before he could do anything to curb them. He had his reasons for abstaining from women, as much as he’d like to partake. Debauchery had wreaked enough damage in his callow youth, and he wouldn’t cause any further pain for the sake of his own gratification.

  Rhiannon caught the look on his face and her expression hardened. “Why are you helping me?”

  Well, he couldn’t exactly tell her what she was doing to him. She wasn’t ready to hear it. William stood and brushed himself off, leaving her unanswered because it was safer.

  “Who, precisely, are you, anyway?”

  “William MacAlastair.” He smiled, hoping he could impress her, even if she was English. “Laird William, chieftain of the clan MacAlastair.”

  “Lady Rhiannon Hanover,” she said, as if they were meeting for the first time under more pleasant circumstances. “I wish I could say that it was delightful to meet you, but given the situation . . .”

  “Aye.” William ducked his head. “I am pleased to meet you too, my lady.”

  She cleared her throat and looked away.

  William came back down, his knee sore from where she’d kicked him. The lassie had quite a wallop. “You never told me how you came to be here like this?” he asked, sitting back on his heels.

  “They killed my parents. Reginald and Geoffrey did. They’ll try to tell you differently, but I’m not lying. Reginald knew he would inherit everything.” Her face contorted. “Including me.” She shook her head. “Geoffrey said he would take me off Reginald’s hands. And here I am.”

  She’d given him the abbreviated history, not that he expected her to share the rest with him. The part where she was beaten, raped, and starved.

  “Reginald sees her as a loose end,” Alice said. “He wouldn’t let her take her meals in the great hall. I had to sneak her food out of the kitchen late at night. Scraps, so he wouldn’t know I was feeding her.”

  “’Tis my dowry,” Rhiannon said. “He wants to keep it. But I suspect he is afraid of Geoffrey and won’t back out of their agreement. He probably hoped I would fall ill and die on my own.”

  Whatever was happening ran deeper than Geoffrey’s usual stupidity. “Stay out of Geoffrey and Reginald’s way,” William said. “And let me take care of the rest.”

  “Rest?”

  He chewed his next words, wondering how much she needed to know. “I’ll make sure they canna hurt you.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “I still plan on dueling Geoffrey for you. If he has the nerve to go through with it, that is. If not, then I will find some other way to free you from him.”

  “And precisely what do you mean by free?”

  “I have only one option.”

  “What if I will not agree to your option?”

  “I willna force you into anything.” It was difficult to say, because it wounded his pride. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a husband in the conventional sense, but she could accept the protection of his name.

  “Can I go on my way then?”

  “You are a lady. Someone has to take responsibility for you. Besides, where else would you go?”

  “On my own.” Her jaw flexed.

  William stood and held his hand out to her. “I canna let you do that.”

  “Why?”

  He pulled her up whether she liked it or not, careful not to touch her sore arm. “Because you need to be sheltered.”

  She came to his nose. Connor was right, her height was refreshing.

  “Then you surprise me not,” she said from between her teeth. “You are what I thought you to be.”

  He smiled, enjoying the way her stubbornness overcame her fear. “And what is that?”

  �
�Male.” She licked blood off her lip.

  “I offer to shield you with both my sword and my name, and that is all you have to say?”

  She crossed her arms over her rib cage and turned her cheek to him.

  “I like it when you’re angry. It makes you forget your fear.”

  “You don’t scare me.”

  “My laird,” Alice said. She held out a handkerchief and he took it from her.

  “Let me see your lip.” He knew his words had sounded too much like a command. William exhaled through his teeth. “I am more accustomed to the company of men than of women.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  William touched her shoulder, turning her to face him. She let him wipe away the blood trickling from her lip, watching him with guarded eyes.

  “I’ll need to stitch this.” He pressed the cloth against her mouth.

  Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed.

  “I will be gentle.”

  “Is there such a thing?” Around the cloth. “A gentle stitching?”

  He corrected himself. “I will be fast?”

  He could feel her breath against his hand. Moist. Warm. Her scent was washing over him, and he wanted to pull her into his arms.

  “Take this,” he said.

  She caught the cloth before he pulled away, her chilled fingers brushing his.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “’Tis time to go.”

  “But . . .”

  “Now.”

  She scrambled onto his horse, wincing over her injuries. He knew he should have helped her.

  “Why did you take my horse?” he asked.

  “He was the oldest one in the stable. Strong and healthy enough for my use, but I thought he would not be missed overly much.”

  William pursed his lips. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “I did not know he was yours.”

  “I didna know you were you.”

  “You would not have let me go either way.”

  “Nay, I would not.”

  “The other horse.” She pointed to Connor’s mount. “Fell right in line with yours when I took them from the stable. I knew he would be right for Alice because he seemed used to going wherever your horse did.”

  “Well done,” he said, nodding his approval at her resourcefulness.

  “My father bred horses.” She toyed with the reins, her thumbs working the braided leather. Then she shook her hair over her shoulder, hiding her face. “You remind me a little of him.”

  Was that good or bad?

  “I wish I had a home,” she said.

  She would have a home soon. His home. Och, and anything else she wanted from him as well. Geoffrey was right about one thing. William had turned into a giant bleeding heart.

  He took up the reins to Angus’s horse. “I will walk back. I am in no hurry.” Aye, he needed to tend to her lip, but he didn’t look forward to it. She didn’t appear to be excessively uncomfortable, so he went right ahead and stalled.

  Chapter Four

  Rhiannon kept her filched stallion down to a very slow walk all the way back to the castle, since it was the last place she wanted to be.

  When they reached the courtyard she prepared to swing her leg off. Her shoulder was achy, and her face and hands stung from thorn scratches. Her lip had settled into a dull throb.

  William reached up to help her.

  “Do not touch me.” Rhiannon swung her leg over the saddle.

  A dizzy spell made her lose her balance, and she slipped off the horse. He caught her.

  William’s brown leather jerkin was smooth and warm beneath her fingers. He smelled of leather and spice. For a moment, the warmth and hardness of his chest felt almost . . .

  “Let go of me.” She wiggled and he released her.

  “You are tired, and you’ve not had decent meals. You are in pain. Just let me help you.”

  She longed to believe he really wanted to help her. But men could not be trusted. She knew what he would require from her in exchange for his aid, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that again. Never again.

  “Geoffrey is coming,” William warned, backing away.

  She looked up to see Geoffrey crossing the courtyard toward them. The very sight of him made her sick to her stomach. A hiccup erupted before she could stop it.

  “He willna hurt you,” William said. “Not anymore.”

  Another hiccup. She tried holding her breath.

  “Dinna look so vulnerable, please.”

  She blew out her breath. “I am not vulnerable. And what is it to you?”

  “More than you think, now hush.”

  Geoffrey stopped before William. “Your man let her get away.”

  “He didna expect her to go out the window. And ’tis your lads on the wall who failed you.”

  Geoffrey waved a hand in dismissal. “They have been punished.”

  Rhiannon wondered what Geoffrey had done to them. Toss them in the prison tower? Torture and dismember them? Draw and quarter? She hadn’t meant to get anyone hurt.

  Geoffrey perused her, his dark eyes burning through her skin, promising her things that made her bleed from the inside.

  “She is bleeding,” Geoffrey said.

  Yes, she was . . .

  “She fell from the horse,” William supplied.

  Geoffrey walked a circle around her. She clenched her teeth, her hands balled at her sides. She wanted to make a run for it. But it was useless. He would only catch her and bring her back again.

  Or William would. Blast him.

  “Take her above,” Geoffrey said. “I have some things to see to. I dinna have time for her antics.”

  He backed away and Rhiannon sighed in relief.

  “And do be sure your man doesna let her escape,” Geoffrey said over his shoulder, his eyes lingering over her blood smeared on William’s shirt. Smiling, he walked away.

  She looked at William as Geoffrey’s boots clipped on cobblestones.

  William shook his head. “Dinna worry.”

  “Did you see the way he smiled at you?”

  “Aye.”

  “He saw my blood on your shirt. You should never have touched me to begin with. What of your agreement with him?”

  “I have not forgotten. And all I did was warm you.”

  Rhiannon pressed her lips flat, then winced.

  “Can you walk?” He touched her arm.

  She pulled away. “As opposed to what?”

  “Nothing.” His gaze lingered for a moment. “Help her,” he told Alice. “She is weak.”

  “I am not weak.”

  Alice wrapped her arm around Rhiannon.

  “Wait.” Rhiannon went back to the charcoal stallion, pulling her brush out of a pouch on the saddle. She clutched it close as Alice tucked her arm back around her.

  “Are you all right?” Alice asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Aside from the bruises, a wrenched arm, and a split lip? Yes.”

  “I meant your condition? You did fall off a horse. You should let me know if there’s any bleeding.”

  Rhiannon winced. “Can we talk about this later?”

  Alice was quiet for a moment. “What did William say to you earlier, in the woods?”

  Rhiannon’s Scottish mother used to sing to her in Gaelic. Rhiannon had always been captivated by the dips and eddies of the language. “I do not know.”

  "But you speak it fluently.”

  Leave it to Alice to press her for an answer. “Nothing. I-I do not know.” Rhiannon shivered. “He may speak with a different dialect than I.”

  “But . . .”

  “I said I do not know.”

  Alice frowned and remained silent. Rhiannon didn’t like lying to her. But she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  * * *

  William entered Rhiannon’s chamber behind her, leaving the door open so as not to alarm her. Connor stood in the corridor to keep any curious servants at bay.

  William turned to face h
er.

  Rhiannon crossed her arms over her rib cage, her chin lifted. Burgundy hair tumbled in a riot of waves down her arms, bits of moss and twig stuck in it.

  He laughed.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “You have twigs in your hair.”

  She ran her hands over her messy waves. “You should not be here.” She tossed a twig aside. “Leave.”

  “I am guarding you.” He unbuckled his sword harness and shrugged out of it, then propped it against the wall.

  “So I do not leave?” Rhiannon said.

  “So you dinna hurt yourself.” William met her gaze. “And so that no one hurts you.”

  Rhiannon broke eye contact.

  “We are grateful for your protection, my laird,” Alice said.

  At least someone was. “Thank you.”

  William unsheathed his sgian dubh and another knife, leaving them in plain sight of Rhiannon, hoping she’d be more comfortable knowing that he was unarmed, and she had easy access to his weapons. “I have to take care of your lip and your scratches,” he said.

  “We are safer with him here, my lady.” Alice nodded. “He will not hurt you.”

  Rhiannon rubbed her sore arm. “Alice is a good judge of character. She has not failed me yet. Do be sure she is right about you.” Her green eyes bore through him.

  William ducked his head. “I will endeavor not to disappoint you, my lady.”

  “You will need supplies, my laird.” Alice scurried across the chamber, returning with a pitcher of water, a needle, thread, scissors, and a flask, setting them on a little round table. Next, she placed a basin on the table and tore up a sheet for rags. Alice seemed eager to have him minister to her lady.

  All the while, Rhiannon stared him down.

  William smiled and pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

  “My lady, please,” Alice said.

  “My lip is fine.”

  “’Tis too deep,” William said. “It willna heal properly on its own.”

  “Alice can stitch my lip.”

  “I’ll need Alice to hold you steady, unless you would rather I did that,” William said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “None of this is necessary. It hardly hurts at all.” She touched it with the tip of her tongue and winced. “Not at all.”