by D. K. Combs
With heavy feet, she went after the laird as men began to restore the hall to its former infamy.
Kane was not a pleased laird.
He'd seen Gwen on the way to the castle and hadn't felt a stir of desire for her, even when he stopped to greet her. Her kisses, naughty whispers, and touches hadn't done anything to ignite the hunger he'd felt for the lass at the creek—that was the first part of his problems.
His second had introduced itself right after. The stallion, a gift from the king, had gone berserk. Not even Brodrick, the self-proclaimed horse whisperer, could get the beast to calm down, and apparently, the animal had already harmed a stableboy. He'd work with the beast for a fortnight, but if there was no improvement, he'd get rid of it. He had too much to work with right now to be concerned with such a minimal task.
The third thing wrong about his day was the hall. What woman in her right mind would barge into his home and change his hall without his permission. And to top it off, he'd been guilted by a lad half his size into keeping a woman and her two children! Then the Blaine chit...
He sighed heavily, pushing open the door to his study. The room was dark and cold, having been vacant for over a month.
"Close the door behind ye'," he commanded the boy, going to the fireplace and setting a flame. Then he went to the window and yanked the curtains aside. Light flooded the room, revealing the the interior and the sight of the wee lad cowering against the door like he was a meal being served to a lion.
"Blaine does no' have a sister?" he asked, getting right to the point.
The lad shook his head. The cap moved to the side, but it stayed atop his head. Hair darkened by shadow peaked out of the hat and intelligent blue eyes stared at him from beneath a mask of grime.
He narrowed his eyes on him, pausing.
"Aye, just me, her brother" the boy said quickly, looking at the ground. Kane lost his train of thought at the abrupt answer.
"The king said there were two sisters. Yer not a lass."
Small shoulders shrugged. "Aye."
A memory pricked him, something the king had said. If only the king had given him the name of the other sister. Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn’t know the other sister’s name. Despite the brief mention of the other one, he’d obviously favored Blaine more when he spoke of her.
Mayhap the king had been confused, and there really was one woman.
"Then what is yer purpose here?"
Kane watched as the boy struggled to get words out. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
"Squire—I'm here as a squire. I believe the king might have gotten his subjects mixed up," he said, laughing. It was forced. He’s lying.
"I already have a squire," Kane said, waving a hand. He turned to the fire, facing the flames and watching them dance. There was something wrong with the lad, something...strange. He was lying, aye, but what about? Blaine was no doubt the cousin of a king—she had the conduct of one for sure. The king often mixed his subjects around, but these were his "dear cousins".
Kane grunted. The king had many “dear” cousins. Mayhap he was confusing Blaine's brother as someone else from his extended family tree. That had to be it.
"The king sent me here to be a squire," the boy insisted. Kane looked over his shoulder to see that he'd finally stepped away from the door, hands clenched at his sides. There was a determination to his eyes, and Kane noted the surprise there, as if the boy couldn't believe he was being so bold.
Which he was.
"I can send you to be the squire of another laird. There are plenty in need of one. So many Lowlanders are taking to court rather than battle," he said disgustedly.
"You can have more than one squire, my lord." Kane faced the boy fully. His lips were pressed together. The glance at his lips led Kane's eyes to his jaw. His eye twitched.
Why was he noticing that the lad had a surprisingly elegant jaw?
Kane shook his head mentally, clearing away the thoughts.
"I have enough with Connor on my hands—"
"Talk to Brodrick. He'll vouch for me." The boy crossed the space between them, staring up at him with a fire he hadn't expected from such a small body. It was small but slender. Very slender.
He had to shake the thoughts out of his head again. "I have no need of another squire—"
"I—"
"Enough," he snapped, slashing a hand through the air. He flinched away as if it was going to strike him. Kane sighed. "I'm tired of yer interrupting' me, lad. I'm laird here, not ye'. Remember who yer speaking to. If I say I donna need another squire, I donna need another squire."
"My sister needs me," he blurt out. "If I left her here alone, she'd...she'd..."
"What, run around throwing flowers all over the place? Ye' ain't verra good at controlling her, lad. Ye' saw the state of my hall—what kind of man wants to return to a pretty hall like that!"
"I was busy with training when she took over the hall, my lord," he whispered.
Kane grunted.
"Yer askin' me to let ye' stay here so ye' can babysit yer sister," he said bluntly.
"Aye. She needs me. She has...problems and—" He cut himself off.
At least the lad didn't deny it that he was staying to watch his sister. That showed the amount of loyalty he had. Hell, he'd even dragged the chit behind him when Kane saw the state of his hall.
"I donna ken a single brother who would stay behind for his sister," Kane said, shaking his head. A hint of amusement entered his voice. Even when Annalise and he had been close, he preferred training with the men to playing childish games with her.
"She's special," he said, nodding. "Very special." Then his face paled. "She'll make a perfect bride, though—she's very good at...at—"
"I get ye', lad. Fine. Ye' can stay to watch yer sister." As silly as it sounded.
A hopeful look entered his eyes. "Does that mean no more training?"
Kane narrowed his eyes on him.
"Nay. More training. Yer too slender and..." He searched for a word that would properly describe the boy and found none, so he shrugged. "Slender. Yer too slender. If yer going to be staying in the Highlands, ye'll need to toughen up a wee bit."
His small shoulders slumped. The boy could definitely use some toughening up, Kane thought, leaning on the edge of the table.
"Find yer sister and watch her. Try to keep her out of my way."
"My lord?"
Kane sighed, swiping a hand over his face. "Yer sister's a lovely lass, but I'd like some time to myself before I have to face her again."
The boy wore a knowing look on his face while he nodded. He turned to leave.
"Saeran," he called out, a thought coming to him. He watched the boy's back tense.
"My lord."
"Have ye' seen a lass around? Blonde, verra small, about yer size, but thinner?"
"There are many women around who look like that," the boy said easily, not turning around to meet Kane's eyes. His hand was still on the door.
"That's true," Kane said, sighing. Mayhap it was just his imagination, a conjuring created by the spirits. That sounded more likely, he thought, rubbing his temples. "Thank ye', lad. Send Brodrick to me if ye' see him."
"Aye, my lord." With a short bow of his head, the boy left him in silence with only the sound of the crackling fire heating up the spring-cooled room.
Now that the Sinclairs were somewhat taken care of, he took the time to go through the accounts, reading all of the missives that Brodrick had made for him while he waited for his friend to arrive. They had a lot to discuss, first and foremost being the figment of his imagination...
THT | 7
"Oh, Saeran," Blaine wailed the second she saw her sister. She didn't have time to close the door of her sister's room before the older woman was throwing herself at Saeran, thick tears welling in her eyes. "He is terrible! What kind of man talks to his future wife like that?"
Saeran patted her back uneasily, kicking the door closed. Her
sister was hugging her so hard that it was hard to breathe. Not only that, but she was leaning into Saeran so much that her leg began to throb.
"Blaine," she gasped, pushing at her sister's shoulder. "Blaine, sit on the bed."
"Do not boss me around like that!" her sister said, distraught. Still, Blaine pulled away from Saeran and threw herself onto the extravagant bed. She, of course, had taken the room most suited for her lady-like sensibilities. Saeran had thought this was the previous Lady Shaw's room. It was beautifully furnished, and everything was in the best of shape, though there hadn't been a woman in this castle since Annalise Shaw, as she'd heard from the maids. "Oh, he is absolutely dreadful! And large—did you see the width of his shoulders? He is the size of an elephant, all large and clunky in the way he walked."
Saeran hadn't thought he was clunky. Aye, he was large, but he was definitely not 'clunky'. He moved with the grace of a lion. Soundless. Deadly. Every thing about him was terrifying—especially the way he looked at her, as if he could see straight into her soul, straight past all of the lies she was telling him.
She sat beside Blaine, letting her complain and whine and cry over laird Shaw, while her own mind raced like a horse.
He knew something was wrong. There was no doubt about it, for she knew she was a terrible liar. Everyone who knew Saeran also knew she couldn't even lie on whether she ate a meal or not! Her sister knew this better than most, and that had been one of the reasons why she'd let her sister take care of the talking.
She knew how to work her words so that anyone could believe them. She'd seen it happen with priests, with her parents, with the men at court. It was all fun and games, so Saeran had never taken part or commented on her sister's sneaky habits, but now she sorely wished she'd taken an interest in learning the art behind dishonesty.
Didn't that sound terrible of her.
"—and I have to be married to him, for the sake of your survival," her sister said sharply, jerking Saeran out of her thoughts. She looked at Blaine, shocked.
"Do not give me that look," Blaine said, pushing herself into a sitting position. If it weren't for your barrenness, this would not be a problem. Yes, I know that now. I should go down there right now and reveal—"
Saeran grabbed her sister by the arm. "Blaine, whatever I did to upset you, I'm sorry—please, please do not go down there. Mayhap he is sore from his journey, or stunned by the king's announcement for him to be married."
Blaine's lip trembled and she fell into the bed. "I'm sorry, Saeran. I don't know what came over me—I'm just so scared. The rumors surrounding him are true, I can feel it just by looking at him," she whispered.
Saeran's heart broke at the sight of her sister's distress. She scooted toward her, slipping her arm around Blaine's shoulder.
"Blaine, listen to me." She took her sister by the chin and made her look at Saeran. "Every heart of ice eventually melts. Everyone loves you, Blaine. Why would Kane 'The Lion' Shaw be any different? Just wait," she said, smiling when the confidence returned to her sister's eyes. "Soon enough, he'll be crawling on his bare knees to take your hand."
Blaine rested her dark head against Saeran's shoulder. "Thank you, Sae. You always manage to make me happy."
"We're sisters," Saeran murmured. "It's my job to make you happy."
"Yes, that it is." Blaine looked up with a frown. "Why do your favor your leg like such?"
She took her hand away from under her knee, the only place she felt comfortable nursing, and shrugged.
"It's nothing." Nay, it wasn't nothing. But she'd tried to tell her sister about the injury earlier and had gotten shut down. She didn't want to deal with the ache in her chest when it happened again. Too often her sister was putting Saeran's needs and concerns aside. Their time here, and the muttered comments from the servants, had finally opened her eyes to the selfishness of her sister.
Saeran looked at her lap, feeling horrible for thinking such things. Her sister was justified in being selfish—she was saving Saeran's life and risking her own by marrying The Lion, and with the added duties to keeping the estate running properly, Saeran could only imagine the stress her sister felt.
"No, let me see," Blaine said, uncharacteristically concerned. She reached out, probing Saeran's leg before she could stop her. A pained breath hissed from between her teeth. Her sister blanched. "Oh, no. Let me see it this instant."
Saeran shook her head, moving away from her sister. "It's on my upper thigh. Really, Blaine, it's nothing for you to fret over."
"Of course it is," she snapped, pointing at her thigh. "Take off the trews and let me see what has happened."
"But...it's broad daylight and...Blaine," she said pleadingly.
"No, off with the trews!"
Saeran shook her head. Blaine had always been the sister with the flawless skin and curves. Saeran was too scrawny and dotted with bruises from her training. Knowing that her sister knew she was the better-looking one made it that much harder for Saeran to reveal her body.
Blaine sighed. "I am your sister. Lord, I gave you baths all of the time when you'd get into mud or some other ungodly substance. I know what you look like unclothed. Not being as curvy as I does not mean you are not beautiful."
The way she said that made Saeran felt the exact opposite.
"Come now, off with the trews. We still have duties to attend to, you know. I can't wait all day for you."
There was the Blaine she knew.
Sighing, she stood up. She hid her flaming face as she unwound the belt and let the trews fall to the ground.
"Oh, my. Saeran, what did you do to yourself?" Blaine reached out to lightly brush her fingers over the blood-red bruise. It was so gentle that she didn't feel it—until Blaine pressed a little harder.
She jerked away from her sister's hand.
"Did that hurt?" she asked, staring at the bruise with fascination. It was like she'd never seen one before—which she very well might not have. Blaine had lived the majority of her life at court, and nothing daring or dangerous happened there. If Saeran were honest with herself, coming to this castle was the first time she'd ever been exposed to fighting and bruising—and it was only the later that she excelled at.
Thinking of the training made her stomach flip. She shouldn't have mentioned anything to the laird—he might have forgotten about it completely. Nay, wait. Brodrick would have hunted her down. She sighed to herself, then began pulling up her trews.
"That's...quite atrocious," Blaine said, wringing her hands together. "Have you done anything to lessen the pain of it? I can imagine it feels as if someone had cut you in two!"
"Sabia was trying to help me when you walked in. It doesn't hurt so much that I can't walk, though. The horse didn't do as much damage as it could have.
A look crossed over her face, but it was gone so quickly that Saeran didn't have a chance to decipher it.
Blaine stood. "Yes, well. I still need someone to come to the village with me."
"I'll go saddle your horse for you," she offered. She might be a terrible rider, but at least she could do that much. Saeran took a guilty pleasure in knowing she could saddle a horse when her perfect sister could not.
Blaine looked at her as if she'd grown two heads. "Horses? No, we will walk."
The thought of walking made her leg throb. "Walk? Blaine, my leg..."
"You said yourself you can walk on it," she said, waving a hand through the air. She crossed to her door, opening it. "Now that I have regained my composure, I can show my face in the hall. How barbaric of him," Blaine snapped to Saeran, like it was her fault. "The hall had looked lovely and he...he did not like it. It was a blatant insult to his betrothed!"
She stormed out of the room and for a second, all Saeran could do was stare after her sister. Gods, her mind jumped from topic-to-topic faster than she could blink.
She's just stressed, Saeran, she chided herself. She must marry an ogre of a man so that you can live. An ogre of a man with startling green eyes...
<
br /> Eyes that suspected too much.
She'd have to stay away from The Lion if she wanted to keep her sister and her safe. In a way, she was grateful that he already had a squire. That way, she wouldn't have to cater to his needs and there was less chance of her slipping up.
"Saeran!" her sister yelled from out in the hall. Saeran tied her belt and ran out of the door, closing it behind her.
"Coming, sister—"
Her words were cut short by a slender body colliding with hers.
"I'm so—"
"Excuse you!" a male voice said sharply, grabbing her by the arms. She would have fallen if the surprisingly strong boy who'd grabbed her hadn't caught her.
"I'm so sorry," she finished quickly, pulling out of his arms. If she didn't catch up to her sister soon, there'd be hell to pay. Already she's yelled at her about being irresponsible.
When she turned to leave, she was stopped once again. The boy ran in front of her. She paused, looking at him.
The boy she'd run into wasn't slender, but lithe. Mayhap she'd been around too many braw men to recognize anything except sheer strength and domination. The boy standing in front of her wasn't quite a boy, yet he wasn't quite a man. He was at that awkward in-between faze, but the interest in his eyes as he stared down at her wasn't purely boy.
"What are you running for?" he asked, cocking his head.
"My sister is waiting for me."
He nodded slowly, still looking her over. She backed away from him, thinking that putting some space between them would act as a barrier. It was almost like he was undressing her with his eyes—and not in the way that the laird had.
A weird feeling settled in her gut. She didn't much like being looked at like that, even if the boy thought she was a completely different gender.
"Why don't you come with me," he said, more of a demand than anything.
She frowned. "I just said that my sister was—"
"Who is your sister?"
"Blaine Sinclair, future Lady Shaw."
Realization dawned on his face. "I was not aware she had a brother. I'd been told she had a sister."