Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
E ach morning before breakfast Ava got into the habit of heading to the lists to work out and keep herself in shape. Unlike using the modern equipment at her gym she had to exercise the old fashioned way, with pushups and sit ups, but she didn’t mind practicing bōjutsu on the straw-stuffed targets the McKeran had mounted on wooden poles. She sensed eyes watching her more than once, but when she looked up at the balcony overlooking the yard it remained empty. War Master Alec was probably still spying on her to make sure she didn’t seduce his laird, but she didn’t mind that. Sensing he had all kinds of scars behind that fabulous face wasn’t the only thing she’d picked up from him.
“Maybe the sentient castle is ogling me,” she murmured under her breath as she finished her one-hundredth sit up and pushed herself to her feet.
On one side of the lists she’d noticed a pile of quarried stone blocks that seemed to steadily shrink, only to become piled high again the next day. On a whim she used a pebble to etch her initials on the sides of one block, which when she checked before sunset had disappeared. The next morning, she found the pile of stone blocks replenished, but the one she’d marked hadn’t returned. She walked around the outside of the stronghold until she spotted an odd half-built wall projecting out from the side of an arch that appeared to go nowhere. The partial wall hadn’t been there the day Tasgall had shown her around the outside of the castle, either.
At the base of the newly built wall she saw the stone she’d etched with her initials.
Ava hadn’t told anyone about her experiment yet, as she wanted to solve the mystery herself. Yet as the days passed the partial wall kept expanding in size, and yet she never saw anyone working to build it.
After she finished her sit ups Ava walked over to the weapons racks to retrieve the white oak staff she’d been using for practice. She went still as someone came up behind her, but as soon as the scent of warm vanilla wine reached her nose she relaxed.
“Good morning, Tasgall.” She took down the stave and cleared her head before she faced him. “You and the men need to use the yard?”
“Farlan mentioned you practice alone every day.” The laird nodded toward the other staves. “I’ve not your expertise with these, but I reckon I’ve enough to spar with you, and some time now to spare. I expect ’twill help ease our tensions, too, before we meet with my chieftains on the morrow.”
Ava knew that wasn’t the reason he’d come to join her; since finding the marked stone built into the wall she had been avoiding him, and he probably wanted to know why. No, if she were to be honest, it was on account of that unbelievably erotic dream. It seemed silly now that she had dodged him, for the man had no idea what they’d done in her head. He was also right about being nervous; she had everything prepared to present to his senior men, but she worried how they’d react to her plans for the investigation of the spell trap.
“That would be much appreciated,” she told him. “Why don’t we make a friendly wager?” As his brows rose she added, “Whoever wins grants the other person a wish, as long as it’s something they’re willing to give them.”
Tasgall’s mouth hitched. “Agreed.”
He took down a heavy red oak staff and walked with her over to one of the circles marked off by old red granite pebbles embedded in the hard-packed dirt. For a moment she wondered if she’d been smart to invite him to a beatdown, especially if she won. Some men really didn’t like having a female overcome them physically.
Maybe that will discourage him from getting to the other kind of physical.
“I saw you speaking with Ben yesterday,” Tasgall said as he watched her move to the far side of the ring. “’Tis something amiss?”
Ava wondered how often he was watching her. “Not at all. I just asked him to make something for me, from our time, so I can easily present my ideas to your men. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
“Good.” He stepped into the circle. “What manner of rules do you follow for sparring?”
“No strikes to the head, belly or back,” she told him as she took her position. “First one down for a three count loses, which will be you, sir.”
Tasgall smiled as if she’d amused him. “We shall see.”
He bowed to her, and she did the same, keeping her eyes on him as she did, and then shifted sideways as he strode up to her.
“That pile of stones over there keeps disappearing every day,” she said as she easily dodged his first attack. “Do you know what happens to them?”
“The stronghold uses them to build onto itself as we sleep, I reckon,” Tasgall said as he followed through and tried to knock her staff from her hands. “The trap replenishes the stone pile each morn.”
She planted the end of the bo on the ground and twisted around it. “How can your castle do that?”
“I cannae tell you, Ava.” He came at her again, and grunted as she struck the side of his leg before retreating. “You should speak with Farlan. Our seneschal possesses a great love for Dun Talamh and notices all the changes that happen in the night.” He swung at her with the end of his staff, but too slowly to land a blow.
Ava easily avoided all the attacks that followed, which made her suspect that either Tasgall’s size made him sluggish, he wanted to lose to her, or he was lulling her into a false sense of security. Since it was probably the latter, she whirled her own staff as she shifted around him, distracting him for a moment before she brought down one end to catch his left ankle and knock his leg out from under him. He went down hard, but landed on his knee and free hand, using his staff to parry her follow-up blow.
“You’re quick, Ava,” he muttered as he hoisted himself to his feet. He spun the staff like a propeller between them.
She timed a jab and knocked the staff from his hands, catching it and then tossing it back to him. “You’re not, Tas.”
Instead of glaring at her, Tasgall chuckled and circled in the opposite direction, holding her gaze as he watched for an opportunity. From the tension in his muscles, he was all in now, and probably meant to dump and pin her on her backside as payback. Ava knew she had the advantage, thanks to all the years she’d spent studying bōjutsu . Still, she didn’t go after him when he inadvertently created an opening while trying to decide when to strike her.
“Don’t watch my face,” she told him as they shifted around the sparring circle. “My body is a better indicator of what I’m going to do.” She swung suddenly, smacking him on the side of his shoulder.
The blow made him grunt. “Your beauty, ’tis befuddling.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault. Well, then, let me befuddle you proper.” She struck three more times in rapid succession, hitting him on the forearm, side and inner thigh before she slid her staff up into his crotch and held it there as she stepped closer. “Here’s another helpful hint: don’t make excuses or blame anyone else for the mistakes you make. Own your own failures, sir.”
“Indeed.” Tasgall pressed his thighs together, trapping her staff between them as he lifted his own over her head and tucked it against the back of her neck. “Do you reckon your try at bruising my baws, ’tis your mistake, my lady?”
She laughed out loud.
The laird’s grin faded, and he dropped his staff to rest his hands on her shoulders. Looking all over her face, Tasgall’s expression filled with a strange tension, as if he were about to explode with anger…or something else.
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes since I got here.” She had her own urges to deal with, which were starting to become persistent. “You win, Tas. What’s your wish?”
He remained silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t reply.
“A kiss from you, my lady raven,” he finally said.
Ava’s whole body flushed. She’d known it might be something like that, of course; every time the man looked at her it was obvious. She even suspected he wanted a lot more than a kiss, too. He wanted to touch her, get her naked, and carry her to the nearest chamber with a door he could bolt. He’d even called her the same pet name as he had in the dream. She could imagine giving herself up to him as he lay with her and mapped every inch of her with his fingers and lips and tongue.
Ava wanted that, too.
She ached to be with him, to breathe in the heady lushness of his scent as she wrapped herself around him. They’d hold each other so close not even a whisper could come between their bodies. All she had to do was press her lips to his, and soon enough the rest would follow. They’d become lovers, and she would settle down into this impossible life with him, and never escape this eternal trap.
Is this what I want?
Looking at him made it hard for her to think straight. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Her legs had locked at the knees. Her skin prickled with nerves going off like tiny landmines. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face, and not from the workout. Was she twelve years old again?
“You’ve kissed a man before this morning?” Tasgall asked.
“Yes, of course.” She had done everything with Chris, and a few other men she’d taken into her bed since he’d been killed. But that wasn’t what had her tied up in shaky knots. It wouldn’t just be a kiss with the laird. He was asking for everything.
He stroked her arm with one big hand. “You neednae agree. ’Twas foolish of me–”
“Where do you want me to kiss you?” Ava lifted a hand to brush her fingertips across his sensual mouth. “Here?”
“Aye. ’Tis all I may bear.” He bared his teeth like a predator about to lunge. “If your lips touch any other part of me, I will shout for the guards and have them toss you in the dungeons.”
She could deal with that, Ava thought. Might even be wise. “Bend down a little.”
As Tasgall lowered his head, she put her hands on his shoulders, and moved in until their bodies touched from chest to thighs. She didn’t have to stand on her toes, for he clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her the rest of the way. The delicious vanilla wine scent of him came up as if a smoke grenade filled with his warmth had been tossed under her feet. Now she simply had to put her mouth on his.
Kiss this man before he takes back his wish.
“Close your eyes,” he suggested, his voice going deep. “’Twill make it easier.”
Ava breathed in the last word he spoke, which tasted like a sip of his scent distilled, and then touched her lips to his. Their mouths matched perfectly, as if designed to do nothing more than kiss each other.
Tasgall used his lips to nudge hers apart and tasted her as his arms came around her waist and lifted her higher against him. The sensation of his tongue stroking the inner curves of her lips made Ava go instantly and completely drenched between her thighs.
How stupid was she, to agree to this? She wasn’t made of stone, and the laird was so much man she was practically melting all over his chest. She should run away from him as fast as she could—and she would as soon as her head cleared. As soon as she stopped clutching his shoulders. As soon as he stopped doing this thing to her mouth with his tongue that had her so excited she was on the verge of coming right now.
Tasgall muttered something against her lips and tightened his hold as he took the kiss from tasting to claiming.
Hot, urgent desire flashed through Ava, so volcanic she thought her bones might dissolve in the blast of lust magma. How could he make her want him like this? It was just a kiss. Just their mouths pressed together. Just his tongue thrusting against hers. Just that and nothing more, except that now she couldn’t breathe, or move away, or stop him. Her body shivered and shook as if she were naked in neck-deep snow, and something deep in her belly expanded, starving and savage, demanding things she couldn’t do with a man she’d known for only a few weeks.
Or maybe I can.
The laird wrenched his mouth from hers and brought her palm to his lips, burying a kiss in the center of it before he said, “Come to my chambers. I’ve a bed covered in fine silk. I wish to see your naked skin against it.”
He’d said the same thing in her dream, Ava thought, stunned.
“We can’t, Tas.” As she sensed his body tensing she took in a deep, calming breath that did absolutely nothing to settle her jangling nerves. She simply had to tell him the truth. “It’ll be hard enough for me to leave when the time comes. Let’s not make it harder than it has to be.”
“Do you imagine ’twill be easy if we never love?” When she nodded he lowered her back onto her feet and released her, moving away to create some distance between them. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at her swollen, throbbing mouth. “Do you reckon you can go from me without looking back? Without desiring a place at my side?”
He was standing on the edge. One push from her, and he’d lose all control.
“I am going back, soon as I’m able.” The words sounded cold and cruel, but that was all that she had to hold him back. “My life is on the other side of this trap. That’s why you and me, we can’t happen.”
He peered at her, his hands tightening into fists. For a moment Ava wondered if he might say the hell with it anyway, fling her over his shoulder and carry her off to his silk-covered bed. Now that she thought about it, becoming his lover wouldn’t kill her. No one on the outside would ever find out about her laird fling. It might even provide her with a front seat view to whatever Tasgall and his people were doing with the others who had come into the spell trap. But if she were honest, that wasn’t the reason she wanted to give in.
She wanted to be naked with him.
She wanted to have sex with him.
She wanted him so badly that she was talking herself into it.
“Tell me no again,” the laird said, taking a step closer. “I am not sure I heard you correctly.”
“No, sir. We can’t do this.” Ava fought to get the words out. “We’ve got enough to contend with, you and me.”
He grabbed her anyway, and wrapped his strong arms around her, tucking her head against his hot, damp neck as he held her. When she made a feeble attempt to free herself, he said, “Be still, my lady. If I hold you, I may catch my breath and my sanity before the eejit attempts flee me forever.”
He’s as messed up as I am. “Grab mine while you’re at it,” she told him.
“Forgive me. ’Tis only that… No lady’s ever moved me thus.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “I reckoned a kiss ’twould satisfy me.”
“I’m sorry.” Hot wetness prickled her eyes, so she squeezed his hand before removing hers. Taking her staff back to the weapons rack should have given her enough time to compose herself, but then the tears spilled over, shaming her.
Please, please don’t chase after me.
Thankfully the laird didn’t, although the air around Ava seemed to vibrate as if a strong, passionate song were being sung by someone without a voice. She wiped her face on her sleeve as if she’d only been sweating before she faced him.
Tasgall’s expression had gone as blank as hers, but something worrisome glittered in his eyes. “Keep your distance, my lady, as you’ve done these past days. I beg you, for my sake.” He picked up his staff and disappeared into the stronghold.
Only when he was out of sight did Ava go to the nearest bench, where she sat down and tried to stop shaking. Since she wasn’t psychic, Tasgall must have had the same dream as she’d had that night. Farlan had mentioned that the spell trap sometimes messed with people that way. She glanced up and saw Rory’s big silhouette on one side of the balcony and sighed.
He stepped into the light to give her a sympathetic look before leaving the gallery.
Ava reached her room and bolted herself in before stripping out of her sweat-dampened clothes and going to wash at the basin. The iciness of the water should have helped cool off her wanting, but instead it seemed like her hot skin just absorbed the droplets. She eyed the bed, and imagined relieving her aching the usual way, but this time she suspected masturbation wouldn’t be enough. She needed to do something physical, something she disliked, until she could wear herself out and stop thinking about having sex with Tasgall.
After changing her clothes Ava went downstairs to find Farlan, who was busy supervising the clean-up of the morning meal in the kitchens. Grabbing an apron from the clean ones hung on a rack, she tied it on and presented herself to the seneschal.
“I need some work,” she told him. “Hard work. Right now.”
He nodded in the direction of piles of dirty dishes the maids had brought in from the great hall. “Use the deep basin there. Soap in a crock on the shelf above. Rags underneath, in the flat basket. Bid the sculleries bring you fresh water as you need.”
P olly saw the armorer skulking around the balcony overlooking the lists and slipped in behind him to see that bitch FBI agent sparring with the laird. Then they kissed like they were already lovers, and her temper shot up like a geyser blowing. How dare that nosy skank put her hands on Polly’s Big Hoss? She wanted to cut Ava Travars and then lock herself in a room with her so she could watch her bleed out slow, just as she’d done with her fourth husband. He’d sobbed the entire time.
Why are you doing this to me, darling?
Paul Knox had been so badly scarred from the cystic acne he’d suffered as a teen he hardly left his mansion, but she’d found her way in, posing as an interior decorator. It had been stupidly easy to make him believe she was the woman of his dreams. Being his wife for three months had been more than she could stand, however, especially with the way he slobbered all over her whenever he wanted to do it, which was at least once a day. He kept talking about all the beautiful babies they’d have, as if she were some kind of bunny rabbit. Paul had knocked her up, too.
Of course, she’d gotten an abortion. Telling him she’d lost the baby had made him blubber like a child, but at least she could use it as an excuse to keep him off her until she was ready to do away with him.
Killing the girl she’d hired to clean the house allowed Marianne to steal her identity. She’d then stabbed Paul before dumping the girl’s body in bed with him, and sat on a stool to enjoy the best part, seeing him die. Just as his blood soaked through the mattress and dripped on the floor she told him the truth.
I don’t love you. I never loved you. I didn’t miscarry, I had an abortion. I just wanted your money.
That was when his breath started hitching. He’d died too fast, but they always did. Sprinkling the bed with potato chips from a huge bag, she’d dropped one of his cigarettes on the polyester satin bed spread she’d bought especially for this night, and then walked out of the mansion and drove off in the house cleaner’s car, a new and free woman.
Inside the gallery passage she marched past two guards who snickered behind her back, spun around and walked up to them while they were still smirking.
“You think I’m funny for watching out for our lord?” Polly demanded. “We don’t know anything about that woman, and he’s letting her beat on him. What if she smashes in his skull with that big stick? He won’t die, but you want to spend the rest of forever feeding him and wiping the shit off his ass?”
Both men exchanged an easy look before one of them asked, “What mean you to do about her, then?”
“I don’t have to do anything. You just wait and see.” Off she stalked to the stairs that led out to the bailey gardens, where her boss stood studying the beds she should have been weeding.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Polly said as she hurried up to him. “Rob was supposed to help me with this, but I can’t find him. I expect he’s goofing off somewhere–”
“Hold your tongue, wench.” The old man bent down and picked up her empty weeding basket, shoving it into her hands. “Attend to your own tasks. Robby’s done enough of your work since you came to plague us. If I see him here with you, I’ll bid Seneschal put you to work cleaning the privies.”
Polly nodded quickly and knelt down to start pulling the stupid weeds that would just grow back tomorrow when the castle reset. She wanted to use the knife in her boot to stick the crabby old man, and Rob, but she had to save it until she figured out how to get rid of that FBI whore. Every tangle she yanked from the ground made her think of doing the same to Ava Travars’s dark hair.
Why wouldn’t this stupid place let anyone die?
Over the last couple of years Polly had experimented with attempting to kill quite a few animals, which was why all the dogs and cats in the stronghold ran off whenever they saw her. She’d even hit a pelican that had flown into the granary with a shovel, and then hid the body under some grain sacks. The next morning she’d gone in to find oats scattered all over the floor, but no bird. From what she could tell it had bled on the underside of the sacks, and torn them open to free itself, but they had magically repaired and refilled themselves. She then looked up at the rafters, and the pelican was sitting there glaring down at her, its broken neck perfectly healed. It screeched at her before it flew out of the door she’d left open.
It took her forever to clean up the mess that fucking bird had made, which was why she’d stopped trying to kill something.
Polly turned to toss a handful of weeds into the basket and saw a silver-winged butterfly flitting over the inner curtain wall. It seemed to be heading higher, as if it meant to fly over the rooftops. She got to her feet and ran for the entry to the back stairs, taking them two at a time as she climbed to the very top landing. There she stepped out onto a crosswalk leading to the garden solar and looked around until she saw the butterfly had gotten there ahead of her. When it flew inside the open door to the solar she grinned.
Got you now, you stinking liar.
Running in behind the silver-winged insect, Polly slammed the door shut and locked it. “You shouldn’t have come back, Ian. This time I got you good.”
The butterfly dropped down and landed on an ivy leaf, and slowly fluttered its wings. Red sparkling light formed a cloud around it as it grew bigger, and turned into an ugly old man who was naked except for two large silver metal wings that he’d stuck to the outside of his skinny, wrinkled arms.
“The spell trap will sense my presence in another minute and cast me out,” her ex-husband said. “You cannot imprison me here or anywhere inside it, you idiot.”
She bared her teeth at him. “Yeah, but I can go tell the McKeran how you keep sneaking in here. Think you’ll be able to find your treasure with them watching for you?”
Ian’s gnarled hands knotted into fists. “I could kill you before you tell them.”
“Nothing can die here.” Polly saw the contempt in his eyes. “All right, let’s make another deal. You tell me how to kill someone in this fucking place, and I’ll help you look for your treasure.”