If he were as cold as he pretended to be, he wouldn’t inspire such loyalty in his men. She loved his fiercely protective nature as well. She knew firsthand how people suffered under the rule of a man who was both brutal and selfish. Gideon’s touch was gentle even when his temper ran hot.
And she was drawn to the flash of heat in his gaze whenever he looked at her. Perhaps if she couldn’t find a way through that wall he was determined to build, she might find a way around it.
“Since I am here anyway, why don’t you let me check Scim to make sure there isn’t anything I can do. If nothing else, I brought him some delicacies from the kitchen.”
It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she thought the harsh lines carved in Gideon’s face softened just slightly. He might not take any comfort she might offer him, but he had a harder time denying the same to Scim.
“Come with me. Now that the sun is almost down, it is probably safe to call him forth again. I won’t do so, though, if tarrying here will cause you difficulties with your uncle. Does he know that you left the keep?”
“I told him I’d received word about an injured animal.” She fought to keep a straight face. “He’ll be happy enough if I bring him payment for my services.”
Gideon definitely looked angrier. “He sells your services to his own people?”
She nodded. “He sees it as another way to tax them. I usually bring home a chicken.”
“Something most of your crofters can ill afford to lose.”
“Yes, that would be true.” She finally let a sly smile slip loose, hoping Gideon would enjoy the joke. “But you see, he’s never noticed that I always bring back the same one.”
At first she thought he misunderstood her, but then finally he rewarded her with a small smile. “My lady, you are dangerous indeed. Remind me never to thwart you.”
She grinned up at him, totally unrepentant. “You would never be so foolish. Now, let’s go check on Scim.”
“Come inside.”
Looking far more resigned, Gideon headed back to the cottage while she fetched her medicine bag as well as the food she’d brought for both the gyrfalcon and his owner.
He should have made her leave immediately, but it was fast becoming clear that he would have better luck trying to force the river to run upstream than to make Merewen change course. Right now, letting her see for herself that Scim was on the mend was the only way to make her leave.
And he needed her to go before he weakened and begged her to stay.
Ordinarily, it would have been better to carry the shield outside, but Scim had already drawn the attention of the hidden evil haunting the grasslands. The bird had barely survived the first encounter. It was unlikely he would a second time.
Gideon lifted the shield and held it close, hoping Scim would be able to draw extra strength from him. Merewen walked in as he finished the chant. The entire cottage lit up with a flash of light as the gyrfalcon left the sanctuary of the shield. No matter how many times Gideon had seen the miracle, he never failed to be dazzled by the gift the gods had seen fit to give him.
This time, rather than taking to the sky, Scim flapped down to the ground, the awkward movement due to the limited room rather than to his injuries. The bird ruffled his feathers and fluttered his wings one last time before settling down to watch the two humans.
Seeing his companion whole and in no obvious pain was an enormous relief. Gideon offered a silent prayer of thanks as he knelt down to offer his arm to the falcon.
He carried him over to the small table and let him hop off while Gideon took a seat on the bench. He patted the space beside him and said, “Approach slowly. He should remember you, but I’d rather not startle him when he’s been hurt.”
Merewen inched forward, crooning softly. Obviously, she did have experience in working with skittish birds of prey. After she was seated, she offered the bird a smile. “Scim, we meet again.”
The falcon tilted his head to the side to study her. Satisfied that she offered no threat, he walked toward the edge of the table and leaned out to nibble her hair. Merewen laughed softly and let the bird do as he pleased.
Gideon watched the woman win over his avatar with nothing more than a smile. It should have come as no surprise that she’d do so. After all, she’d had a similar effect on all of his men, even Kane. Did she have any idea how amazing that was?
She was talking to the falcon again. “Scim, I’m going to touch you now. If I hit a tender spot, be patient with me. I need to see how badly you were hurt. Behave like a gentleman, and I’ll have a special treat for you.”
Once again Scim stared at her as if weighing the meaning of her words. He actually bobbed his head and held out his injured wing. Gideon couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but the now-familiar warmth of Merewen’s magic flowed through the room as she gently traced each of Scim’s wings, his legs, and then his entire body, beak to claws.
Gideon found himself leaning toward her, wanting some of that sweetness for himself. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he jerked back. That was the seduction of magic calling to him, making him hunger for it. He would need to be more vigilant in the future. Merewen might not practice the dark arts, but magic was magic, addictive and lethal.
Right now, whatever she was sensing had her looking pleased. “He’s fine, Gideon. The bones have mended smoothly, and his pain has greatly eased.”
When she was finished, Scim stepped farther back from the edge and ruffled his feathers again. Merewen’s magic gradually dissipated, leaving a fresh scent in the air, and a new warmth in the room.
She pulled a pouch out of her bag and unwrapped a small bowl, which she placed in front of Scim. Gideon leaned forward to see what she’d brought for the bird. Giblets—lots of them. Not his own favorite food, but the gyrfalcon definitely perked up at the sight.
She gently scratched Scim’s head. “I’d tell you to eat slowly, but I know better. I’m betting those will be gone all too quickly.”
Scim immediately set about proving her right. She’d already cut the meat into small pieces, so all he had to do was gulp them down. When they were gone, he stretched his neck toward her bag and gave her an expectant look.
Merewen’s laughter brightened the darkness in Gideon’s world as she gave in and offered the bird a second bowl of the bloody tidbits. Scim’s lack of table manners only seemed to amuse her.
Then she dug into the bag a third time and held out another small package wrapped in cloth. “I figured you had used up a lot of your own strength in helping Scim. Duncan said he’d left you stew simmering on the fire. Since he took care of your dinner, I brought dessert for you and Kane. That is if either of you like sweets.”
Gideon accepted the gift and gently unwrapped it. Inside was a plate piled with a stack of pastries. The scent of apples and spices wafted up, setting his mouth to watering.
“Thank you, my lady. I assure you that I like sweets, and Kane does as well, although he’s likely to deny it. This was most thoughtful of you.”
For the first time, Merewen was looking a little nervous. “I baked them myself.”
He picked one up with his fingers and took a bite and then another, wolfing down the flaky crust and tart apples. He was tempted to lick his fingers, but they’d only get sticky again when he ate the next one.
After the third one, he pushed the plate back and covered it with the cloth. “I’ll save those for Kane when he returns.”
Then he winked at Merewen. “Or at least I’ll try to. If he stays gone too long, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist them. Besides, I wouldn’t want them to get stale.”
His words obviously pleased her. As much as he was enjoying her company, it was time for her to go. Night had fallen, and riding in the dark was hazardous.
“Thank you for both your care of Scim and for the pastries, but now you must return to the keep. The moon should provide enough light for you to make the trip safely, if you’re careful.” Not that she was always c
areful when it came to her own well-being.
Merewen picked up her bag and started for the door. She paused briefly to glance toward the rafters where Scim had taken roost. “I’ll be fine. It is a relief that your friend up there is doing so well.”
Gideon followed her out to the corral, knowing his next words would not make her happy. “Merewen, you should not return here.”
She hung the strap of her bag on the saddle and turned back to face him. “But—”
He hushed her protest with a finger across her lips. “There is evil loose on the grasslands. This time it attacked Scim. I would not risk the same thing happening to you.”
She looked up him, her pretty face bathed in the silver light of the moon overhead. “When will I see you again?”
“Not until I arrive at your gate, which will likely be a few days at least. Unless my men send word that I am needed sooner, Kane and I will try to track the source of the attack on Scim.”
Not that he wanted to remain at the cottage. It was getting harder each time he had to send her back into peril. Although he was glad to have his friends in place, he had to wonder why Fagan felt the need to surround himself with so many armed men.
“For now, try to stay out of your uncle’s way. You can depend on Duncan and the others to see to the safety of your people.”
“I’m not worried about myself, Gideon.” Her chin came up. “I will not cower in a corner and let someone else suffer. They are my responsibility.”
Her driving desire to protect her people from her uncle’s viciousness rang true in every word. She would willingly sacrifice herself to save them. As much as Gideon admired Merewen’s warrior spirit, he wanted to shake some sense into her.
Instead, he cupped the side of her face with his hand, unable to deny himself that small touch. “What if the next time he doesn’t just beat you? What if he loses control or decides you’ve become too much of a thorn in his side and kills you instead? What then? If you sacrifice yourself, Merewen, there will be no one left with your gift to care for the horses. Without them, your people will have nothing.”
That she started to protest again had him gritting his teeth. This woman took stubbornness to new heights. Once again he hushed her, this time with his lips. May the gods forgive him, but he couldn’t resist another taste of this woman. He teased her lips apart, then swept in with his tongue to claim possession.
If he couldn’t convince her with his words, well, there were other ways to impose his will. He swept her up in his arms and carried her deeper into the shadows. He briefly considered taking her back inside the cottage but wasn’t ready to cross that threshold—literally. Inside, it would be all too easy to lay her down upon his pallet. If he were to do that, there would be no turning back. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he uncovered and explored every inch of her silken skin.
Despite her bravado, Merewen was an innocent, one he was sworn to protect—even from himself. Maybe especially from himself.
When he started to set her back down on her feet, she protested and wrapped her legs around his hips. This was going too far and too fast, but he couldn’t remember anything ever feeling so right. He kept his hands firmly anchored on her narrow waist, but he savored the sweet press of her body against his.
One more kiss—surely they deserved that much. A few seconds later, with his blood racing and his need for her throbbing in his head, in his heart, in his body, he eased back. Slowed down. Stepped away. Hated the breath of cool night air that filled the emptiness between them.
“Gideon, I want—”
It didn’t matter what she wanted; what he needed. Duty came first. It had to, for both their sakes. He shook his head and backed away another step. “The hour grows late. Leave, Merewen. Now.”
Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her dark eyes shining bright with the sheen of tears.
She brushed past him and mounted her horse. From there, she looked down into his face. “I’ll wait for you to come to me, Captain, but don’t keep me waiting for long.”
Then she spurred her mare forward in a headlong gallop back toward the keep. So much for her being careful. He could only hope that the mare had more sense than her rider did. Aching and alone, he watched Merewen disappear into the night.
Chapter 11
To avoid drawing attention to himself, Murdoch waited but a minute or two after Merewen rode back into the keep before following her into the stable. It didn’t appear that her uncle had noticed her absence at dinner, but Murdoch could be wrong about that.
Right now he was more concerned about why Olaf had been watching for her. The man hadn’t actually said that was his purpose in pacing along the walk near the top of the palisade and observing the approach to the gate. However, he wasn’t on duty, and as soon as she’d been spotted, he’d immediately disappeared. Murdoch’s instincts warned him that the man was on the hunt and Merewen was his intended prey.
Murdoch had no intention of letting Olaf anywhere near her for long, especially alone. And if the bastard touched the lady, he would bleed, although Murdoch really hoped that it wouldn’t come to that—not yet. Luckily, he had a perfect excuse for seeking her out himself. After all, Lady Alina had told him to present himself to Merewen if his arm bothered him.
The stable was dim and quiet. Tired from their day out in the sun, the horses stood dozing in their stalls. Murdoch closed his eyes to focus on listening. If there were any humans in the massive stable, he couldn’t sense their presence. He walked toward the stall reserved for Merewen’s horse. The mare was there, but she still bore both her saddle and bridle.
Murdoch suspected Lady Merewen’s first concern would always be for her mount. Unless something was wrong, she would never neglect the mare’s care no matter how tired she was herself. His hand on his sword, he started back through the stable, checking each stall as he went. Despite his hope that Merewen had been called to see to another horse whose needs were more pressing, he found no sign of her anywhere.
That left her workshop and the great hall. He started with the first one simply because it was closer. As soon as he turned the corner toward the small building, he heard voices—one female, one male. He recognized both, which had him hurrying his steps. Although Merewen sounded irritated, her voice held a hint of fear as well.
The belligerent male voice belonged to Olaf. If he was attempting to bully Merewen, Murdoch would teach the man some manners. He stopped outside the door in a spot that afforded him a clear view inside the workshop. Just as he expected, Olaf was crowding Merewen.
“If I tell your uncle that you disobeyed my orders again, you will suffer for your willful behavior either at his hand or mine.” His smile made it clear which of those choices he was hoping for.
Merewen stood her ground. “Tell him anything you want to, but Fagan knows that I only go when someone needs my aid in treating an injured animal. I returned as soon as I was able.”
Her voice remained calm, but her clenched fists told the real story. She was afraid, but Murdoch couldn’t tell whether it was Olaf who caused that tremor in her hands or the fear of facing her uncle. Either way, it was time to intervene.
Acting as if he hadn’t heard the prior discussion, Murdoch entered the workroom. “Lady Merewen, I’m sorry to bother you, but your lady aunt suggested I see you if my wound worsened.”
He held out his bandaged arm as proof of his claim.
Olaf didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Take care of it yourself. Lady Merewen isn’t here to tend to the likes of you. It is hardly her fault that you were clumsy enough to get yourself cut in arms practice.”
Merewen immediately turned to her worktable and started gathering supplies. “Please be seated, Sir Murdoch.”
He was reluctant to sit down because it would leave him at a disadvantage if Olaf went on the attack. He was still debating the issue when Averel appeared in the doorway, flanked by both of his dogs.
He ignored Olaf, looking instead at Murdoch. “I see you fo
und Lady Merewen. What did she say about your arm?”
Confident his friend could handle any confrontations with Olaf, Murdoch continued the charade of needing medical attention and took a seat on the bench. “She was just about to look at it.”
The dogs crowded into the room, leaving their master standing in the doorway. With her love of animals, it came as no surprise that Merewen had small treats to offer the beasts. With that one gesture, she won their hearts forever.
Olaf still hadn’t given up. “I told you to take your wound elsewhere. Lord Fagan will be displeased that you bothered his wife with the injury as well.”
Enough was enough. Murdoch was about to teach the bastard some manners, but the dogs decided to take charge. Both of them shoved their way between Olaf and Merewen, their ears back and deep growls rumbling in their chests. It would take a far braver man than Fagan’s captain to face them down.
He was smart enough to retreat even as he made one last threat. “I’ll be talking to your uncle about all of this, Merewen.”
Averel, always the last to lose his temper, joined his coursers in facing down Olaf. “Lady Merewen has done nothing wrong, Olaf. It has been my experience that the lady of the keep often serves as the healer. Either way, it is none of your business.”
“Her uncle—”
Averel’s knife appeared in his hand as if by magic. He began flipping it over and over, drawing Olaf’s attention in his direction. “Her uncle has more important business to attend to, Olaf. Right now he’s trying to decide how best to convince me to allow him to introduce my dogs’ bloodlines to his pack. If I were to refuse, he would be most unhappy to find out that it was you who convinced me I shouldn’t allow that to happen.”
Recognizing he was well and truly outnumbered, Olaf muttered a curse and stormed out into the night. At a signal from Averel, the dogs took up position right outside the door to make sure he didn’t return unnoticed.
Merewen let out a shaky breath and leaned back against her worktable. “Gentlemen, I am in your debt. Olaf gets worse every day. He’s always been volatile, but that wild look in his eyes is new. Perhaps it is my uncle’s influence over him, and some of the other men are almost as bad.”
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