by D. K. Combs
“Really, now,” he drawled. There was a sarcastic, mocking tone to his voice that only made her blood boil. All of her “growing feelings” from earlier were gone, dashed away by the appearance of a monster she knew all too well—a monster that was glaringly similar to the one she had been married to before. “Where do ye’ ken ye’ll go, my lady? Back to yer father?”
She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. She wouldn’t let him put her down.
“So, yer going to go through the very forest you put fire to, with the risk of getting caught by rogues, and…what? Go back to yer father? With a traitor on your heels?”
“My father would be glad to have me home—”
“Aye, of course. If yer not kidnapped and killed first—and I would no’ be surprised if she was the one to stab ye’ in the back.”
She pressed her lips, words stuck in her throat. Despite everything she wanted to say and do, the green of his eyes held her still. There was a quiet fury in them, but it wasn’t directed at her. No, it was directed at the woman sitting behind her, and she knew that because Alec hadn’t looked away from her for a single second.
“Did you hurt her?” She had to know, if only to clear her own head.
“Nay.”
Hard. Brutal. The truth.
Through all of the uncertainty waving around her, she knew his words to be true. As much as Alec might look like a barbarian, he was not one, and she knew that he would never be one.
“Then we are done here,” she murmured, taking the arm of the woman. With Alec glaring daggers at her back, she walked from the inn, the woman following close beside her.
Blayne fluffed the pillow, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Meeting Alec at home had been…anti-climatic, at best. He had walked right past the two of them as they ate in silence, had not even met her eye. Nothing of the man who had kissed her with such passion, who had held her with such loving arms, was there.
And that was fine. Until Alec could lower his guard and not be so cruel to others, he would have to bask in his own isolation.
But, it seemed, that she had to suffer the same as well. With Alec not speaking to her, her only companion was the red-haired woman—who was so quiet that Blay could not get a single word out of her. She said not her name, not her purpose here, and not anything that she knew.
Eventually, Blay thought. Eventually the woman would speak. For now, she wasn’t going to pressure the battered woman until she was ready. If that took several days, then fine. At least Blay had that kind of time.
From what McGregor had told her, they were no closer to finding out who had kidnapped her, or why. There was nothing to show for the kidnapping except the burned forest.
And that was…terrifying.
She laid her head back onto the pillow, fully prepared to fall asleep right then and there. Her ride with Alec, leading up to the inn, had been tiring at best. Even with all of the drama, danger, and mystery floating around her, she could feel her eyes starting to droop the second her head hit the pillow.
They never had a chance to close. Jarring her from the oncoming slumber, there was a soft knock on the door, and then it was whispering open. Before she had a chance to answer, before she had a chance to adjust herself, feet danced across the floor.
By the weight of the step, she knew it wasn’t Alec.
“Are you well?” she asked, knowing exactly who was standing beside her bed. The edge of the bed dipped, and she pushed herself into a sitting position. “I know it must be hard for you to talk, but I am here if you need me to listen.”
“I need…” She inhaled sharply, then cleared her throat. “I need to warn you. Please, my lady, do not tell the lord of this.”
She frowned.
“Warn me of what?”
“There are men coming after you.”
Blay nodded, reaching out to touch the woman’s shoulder. She was visibly shaking, her thin frame shaking the bed. “I know of this. There is nothing to be scared of—”
“They are your husband’s men. His oldest son…he is searching for you.”
That drew her up short.
“Oldest son—as far as I know, he had no other children. I was not able to bare him any.” Because through all of his abusive ways in bed, he had never gotten to completion. Her crying had always stopped him.
Red curls bounced as the woman’s head shook.
“I fear you are wrong, milady. He has several bastard children—his first and second wife were lost shortly after he married them, and he turned to others for his needs.”
Blay shook her head, laughing. “I would have heard of his other children. I would know. This…this cannot be right.”
“He wants the land,” the woman whispered. “He wants the land you own.”
“I do not own any land—”
“The clansmen have surrendered it to your father in place of you. You own the land.”
At that, Blay really did laugh. “That’s unheard of. I denied all holding to the land once I left there, even appointed the second in command the new chieftain. I have no rights to any land, nor would I want any of his.”
“Well,” the woman said, twisting her hands. “It would seem that it’s yours now—or rather, your father and yours. And the oldest wants it.”
“Then he can have it!” Blay waved her hand, as if that would set the issue aside. “I’ll simply write to my father, and—”
“It’s more than that.”
Her head rolled back, and she groaned. “It always is. Please, just explain what all is happening—no, wait. Why can’t we tell Alec of this?”
The woman swallowed, looking down at her lap.
“I am not sure…it would be in your best interest. To tell him. He is a powerful man, and I worry that him knowing this… It would set off a catalyst of events. Especially if he is romantically inclined with you—milady.” She bowered her head, knowing she had overstepped herself.
Blay didn’t pay any mind to it.
“We are not romantically inclined—”
There was a soft, nervous giggle.
She sighed. “Okay, yes. Mayhap there is some romantic inclination between the two of us—but I doubt anything will ever come of it. You know him—he is a terrifying man when he wants to be, and I… I set fire to forests when I am angry. The two of us would never work out.”
“Oh, well I don’t believe that to be true, milady,” the woman said sagely, reaching out to tentatively pat Blay’s hand. “Sometimes the smallest flames can create the biggest flames.”
“But is that safe?” she whispered, frowning.
“No. But the prize at the end of the tunnel is more than rewarding.”
Blay stared at the woman, worrying her lip. The woman talked as if she knew first hand what she was talking about, and why wouldn’t she? Just because she was a woman of low stature, didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of knowing love.
“Just…tell me what you know, please. About the men who came after me—my husband’s oldest. What more they could want than land? All of it, if you can.”
The woman nodded her head.
“I was a serving wench at an inn in the village your husband hailed from—Auchborogh. Small town, it was nothing special.”
Blay nodded, having heard of it during one of her husband’s drunk ramblings. That was not where the two of them had lived together, but rather a distant memory her husband had always spoken fondly of—incredibly, it had been the only fond memory of his.
“One night, a group of men entered. It was a sennight ago, or thereabouts. The men began talking, drinking, stuck in their cups. I overheard them say something about the late lords wife retaining the lands, yet running back to her father.”
Her lips pressed. What else had been left to do but run? Her marriage had been miserable. Abusive. Terrifying. She had wanted nothing to do with her husband’s land or the people there. She had only wanted to go home.
“They can have the lands for all I care,�
� she said, once again, starting to feel her gut tighten. Anger had her hands clenching. Anger for what, she didn’t know—maybe frustration more than anything.
“There’s more to it than that, milady. The oldest, he doesn’t want just the lands.”
“What else is there to want? I have nothing to offer him, nothing that he is owed. I took nothing from my time with his father! I left my clothes, my belongings. I left everything.”
“It’s not something of yours that he wants,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then what could it possibly be?” She threw her hands up, dumbfounded. She had nothing of value—
“You, milady. He wants you.”
That had everything crashing to a halt, and she blinked.
“Ex…excuse me?”
The woman paused before speaking again, obviously sensing that Blay had just been landed a blow to rival being bucked off a horse.
“He wants you. He said…his father denied him everything, so it was only make sense for him to take you as recompense. His words, milady. Not mine.”
“And you… you heard all of this while they were drinking?”
The redhead nodded, staring down at her hands.
“I had no clue they meant good on their word—”
Blay put her hand over the woman’s, though she barely recognized her own actions. Her mind was running too quickly to register what she was doing.
“It is alright… You had no loyalty to me. No reason to report this to me. So for that, I—”
“I did not come here out of selflessness, milady. I am not that kind of a person, as much as I wished otherwise.”
Blay nodded, not surprised.
“I…came here with a request.”
“Anything,” Blay said. “Anything.”
“Let me live here. Be a servant in the castle. Let me have a new life here—”
“That’s not a decision I can make—”
Thumping on the door had both of them freezing. Blay adjusted her blankets and the woman stood, bowing her head. “I’m sure that soon you’ll be in that position, milady,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze when the door opened to reveal the large, hulking figure she knew all too well.
She left quietly, and Alec paid no mind to her, as if he hadn’t been interrogating that same woman hours ago. No, his eyes were locked on hers, a purpose inside of them that she couldn’t decipher through the dim light of the room.
“Tell me that the two of ye’ are not conspiring against me,” he said finally, his voice made deeper by the shadows of the room. As he stepped inside, he reminded her of a reaper, come to steal her soul, her sense, and something deeper. Something that not even her first husband had been able to take.
She shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to let on that having him in her chamber was making her uncomfortable—in a way that was completely wrong.
“If I said that, then there would be a possibility of me lying.”
“Of course,” he said, sighing.
“What brings you to a lady’s chambers this late at night?” she asked, shocked at the coy in her own voice.
He raised a brow, obviously catching it. “I would rather ye’ not go to bed angry. I might wake up to my keep on ablaze.”
“If only,” she said on a bored sigh, hiding her smile. “I fear my fire-starting days are coming to an end.”
Alec came farther into the room, the door closing behind him. Lord, but he was large. The ceilings were tall, but when he entered, the room seemed to shrink. His shoulders could have taken up half the room, as well! The darkness around them didn’t make him any less intimidating.
Fortunately, she knew she had no reason to be intimidated. He might be powerful, and he might be large, but he would never harm her. Opposite to her earlier thought, though, something in the back of her mind told her she was wrong for not being intimidated by him.
Her reaction to Alec was more than reasonable. Dangerous, even, which made no sense to her. She had no desire to be with a man. Not a stranger, not Alec. Her days of breeding were over as far as she was concerned. The kissing, the heated touches and passionate holds… They had to come to an end.
Now that she was aware of the threat, and who was coming for her, she would be on her way home soon. Her fling with Alec would have to come to an end.
She held that thought up until he sat on the edge of the bed, his body alarmingly close to hers. With his heat affecting her even through the bed sheets, all faith in refusing his kisses left her.
“I want to put what happened today to rest,” he said, staring down at her. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, raising a brow.
“There is nothing to put to rest, Alec McGregor. I can admit that my reaction was…not needed. I know you did not harm her.”
“That’s why you were furious?”
“Well, why else would I be? There was a woman with bruises on her face. She was cowering from you. What other thought would I have—”
“People naturally cower from me, lass.” He paused, jaw ticking. “But ye’ do not.”
“No, I do not,” she agreed, peering at him. He didn’t meet her eyes. Refused to, she thought. “I have no need to. You’re a friend of my fathers, and I know that even if you weren’t afraid of him, that you wouldn’t harm me or anyone else, simply because my father would not align himself with someone like that.”
His head fell back and she watched his lips part, as if he were going to say something. Had she said the wrong thing? Did he want her to be fearful of him? The thought was as confusing as his purpose in her room—but she wasn’t going to complain.
No, while he figured out whatever it was he needed to say, she was going to stare at him, take him in. He had not worn a shirt today, but that was normal for him. All he wore was the plaid of his people and leather trews. Long, flaming red hair fell down around his shoulders in a mass she ached to touch, to run her fingers through, but she held herself back.
He was struggling with something, and she knew from past experience that distracting him would only bring about frustration.
“Lass, I—” He paused, and when he spoke again, he looked at her. “I am conflicted.”
She frowned, tilting her head to the side.
“What do you mean, conflicted?” Sure, there was plenty to be confused about, but he had not helped narrow anything down at all.
“About what is happening. About what is expected of ye’ while yer here. About—about what is happening between us.”
The way he said the last bit had her cheeks heating. The look on his face was all too accusing, and she bit her lip.
“Well, I… I can help tend to the castle, if that is what you’re getting at,” she said, choosing to ignore the words that most intrigued her. “And if you wish to know what is happening, I have learned some news that might benefit us in our search for the men who kidnapped me.”
His gaze turned hard. “How? From that maid?”
She nodded. “Yes, indeed. She was very infor—”
“Ye’ should not believe a word out of her mouth, Blayne. Women like her… They use people, people like ye’. They speak falsehoods so that ye’ feel like ye’ owe them something—”
“Alec, what she told me…made sense. It all made such perfect sense. She said my husband’s son was—”
He drew back like she’d smacked him, and she frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbow.
“What? What did I—?”
No response. He stared at her, braced as if he were waiting for another blow, and his lips began to move. At first, she heard nothing, but when she leaned close, she heard it.
“Flinching. Regressing after the kiss—sudden husband—the fear—the—”
“Alec, stop,” she said, pushing at his shoulder. He didn’t. He kept muttering to himself, the sound growing farther and farther away, just as far as he was distancing himself from her in his eyes. “My lord!”
She shoved at his shoulder this time, harder than before. When that
didn’t work, and he only continued to babble, his brows lowered so far over his face that his eyes weren’t discernible.
Blay huffed, then shoved the covers off of her legs and got onto her knees, putting her hands onto his shoulders. She expected him to push back, or at least not to fall back like a slain tree—but alas, he did.
She pushed so hard at his shoulders that the momentum carried the two of them downward. Him, body splayed underneath hers. Her, braced on top of him like a harlot in the making.
“Oh, my lord, no—” Face flaming, she tried to sit up. His hands caught her, holding her still above him. When she managed to meet his eyes through the hair falling around her face, her breath caught.
Lucid.
He was lucid again.
And the look in his eyes was enough to burn her.
“My lord,” she said quietly, her voice more of a croak than anything. His grip, tight enough to cut off circulation, lessened, giving her a way out, a way to get off of him.
She didn’t take it. For whatever reason, he had completely left her, somehow receding into the mind of a man she knew bordered on genius, a mind she knew he tried to hide. For whatever reason, he had fixated on her husband, and lost himself to it.
And that was not okay.
“My lord,” she said again, the croak turning into a confused, intrigued whisper. She didn’t know why she bothered to speak—she was inviting herself open to questioning. Why wasn’t she getting off of him? Why was she still braced above him?
Those were questions he was bound to ask, questions she didn’t know the answer to.
So she did the unthinkable.
She shocked the both of them.
Her earlier proclamation of ending the fling came to an abrupt, unsurprising end when she took hold of his face, tilted his willing head up, and then pressed her lips to his.
She couldn’t explain her actions, and if anyone ever questioned them she would deny it ever happening. However, for some odd, terrifying reason, she was going to revel in the sensation of his lips against hers, of his arms twining around her waist, holding her firmly.
Tightly.
Unforgivingly.
Their lips came together in a clash of lust, destruction, and uncertainty, and that was enough for her to get lost in.