Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The gall of that man! How dare he call me a liar!
Lavina paced the length of her room, her ire flaring and popping in sync with the fire crackling in the hearth. She cast a glare at the balcony door and folded her arms tightly over her chest.
Lightning flashed violently, followed by a thunderclap so loud that it rattled the windowpanes.
Lavina flinched and shot to her feet, panic rising in her chest.
She hated storms. They made her feel small, helpless. But worse still were the memories they dredged up. Dark, terrifying echoes of a past she had tried desperately to forget.
She moved to the bed and pulled back the covers, but her eyes drifted toward the balcony once again. Rain battered the door in steady sheets, and beneath it, the faint outline of a dark figure remained—Theo. Still outside. Still suffering in the storm.
Lavina bit her lip, torn.
Could she really allow a man she believed might have killed her family sanctuary in her room?
On the one hand, she didn’t want to be alone. On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to share her room. But was she willing to share it with him?
A fierce crack of thunder answered her. She yelped and rushed to the door, yanking it open as the wind howled in.
“Are ye comin’ in?” she called, hoping her voice would carry above the tempest.
Theo looked up. His hair was soaked, falling in heavy locks down his face, but it did little to hide the glare in his eyes.
“I told ye, I’d rather take me chances with the storm,” he grunted. “Now, close the door before ye catch yer death. The last thing I need is the clan thinkin’ I murdered me wife on our wedding night.”
Just then, lightning struck the flowerpot beside him, shattering it into a thousand jagged shards.
Lavina gasped.
Theo jolted upright as the brilliant flash lit her face and bathed the room in a sharp, ethereal glow.
“Then again,” he said, brushing dirt from his coat, “who am I to refuse the lady’s request?”
Without another word, he made a beeline for the chamber.
Lavina’s heart fluttered as she stepped aside and shut the door, locking the storm outside.
She eased back, trying to calm her racing pulse. That strike had been too close. Far too close.
“Are ye all right?” she asked before she could second-guess the concern in her voice.
Theo arched an eyebrow as he moved toward the fire, brushing the water from his shoulders. “If I’m bein’ honest,” he said with a wry smile, “I’d say that was closer than I would’ve preferred.”
Her nerves felt as though they were on fire, and nothing she did could extinguish the heat.
“Sorry,” Lavina murmured, her voice shaking.
“‘Tis nae as if it were yer fault,” Theo replied. “Ye’ve nay say over the weather.”
Lavina rubbed her hands together, her gaze fixed on the balcony door as lightning streaked across the window. Thunder followed immediately, a bone-rattling crack that seemed to shake the very walls.
“Ye’re scared of the storm, are ye nae?” Theo asked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him taking off his soaked shirt.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her thoughts, once scattered by fear, now sharpened with focus on him.
His chest was smooth and pale, glistening with water, but it was the scars that caught her attention. Jagged lines carved across his ribs and shoulder blades, each one a mystery, a story.
Her breath caught. And then she saw it.
He’d noticed.
Theo’s lips stretched into a crooked grin as their eyes met, and a rush of heat spread through her. Embarrassed, she turned her attention back to the storm.
“It’s nae the storm that bothers me,” she muttered, “but what it brings.”
Theo tilted his head, wringing the water out of his shirt by the fire. “And what do ye think the storm brings?”
There was cynicism in his tone, but also curiosity.
“Death,” she whispered.
It barely reached his ears.
“Those left are cursed. Of course ye wouldnae understand,” she added bitterly. “Yer parents didnae die under such horrid circumstances.”
Theo’s jaw tightened.
“I do ken death,” he said quietly. “And I can tell ye, while storms may breed chaos, it’s nae during the thunder they strike.” He turned toward her. “It’s in the wee hours that death stalks the earth.”
She met his gaze again, this time not in fear but in stunned silence.
Her eyes flicked to the scars that marked his body. Death had kissed him; that much was clear. His wounds told stories she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to hear.
“And ye ken this personally, do ye?” she asked.
He moved toward a chair, continuing to strip off his soaked layers. Every movement was deliberate—power restrained by control.
“It was a storm much like this one that sealed me family’s fate,” Lavina said softly. “Their bodies were found on yer land the next morning. I lost me faither, me maither, and me braither that same night.”
Theo froze. “And ye blame me for their deaths?”
“A storm doesnae leave wounds on their necks.”
Thunder rumbled once again, but this time she found it less jarring, so long as she kept her eyes on him.
Theo’s eyes darkened. “Nay,” he said slowly. “I dinnae suppose it does. But tell me, why do ye think it was me blade that took their lives?”
“Yer crest was found at the scene.”
He inhaled sharply as thunder cracked again.
Lavina’s heart rate quickened.
“And when did this happen?”
“Five years ago.”
Theo rubbed his chin, his face softening as he leaned back slightly. “I dinnae kill for sport—human or beast,” he said. “And I give ye me word, Lavina, that it wasnae me blade that ended yer family.”
She held her breath. “And what proof can ye give me?”
Theo stepped closer.
He moved with caution, his body slow, deliberate, as though giving her time to back away. Yet she didn’t. She couldn’t. Her feet were rooted to the floor as the warmth of his body drew near.
Heat washed over her in waves, crashing against her resolve. His proximity made her dizzy.
He leaned in, towering over her now, his lips brushing her ear.
“None,” he answered. “Either ye believe me or ye dinnae. I cannae change yer mind, just like I doubt ye’ll change mine.”
Lavina’s eyes widened.
Theo pulled back then, reaching for a pillow. What had she expected him to do? Kiss her?
At that moment, she was no longer in the keep, but back at the altar. A bride standing before God and country. His kiss had stirred something within her then, something deep and unknown—a blanket of comfort and security that wrapped around her heart like a balm.
She blinked, and the vision was gone.
Theo sat down near the fire. He tossed the pillow to the floor and plopped onto it, his back turned to her.
The distance stung. It felt as though there was a thicker wall between them now than the very balcony that had once shielded them from the storm.
Slowly, Lavina crawled beneath the blanket and the scratchy muslin sheets. Every nerve in her body tingled as she tried—and failed—to get comfortable.
How she wished the storm would pass, if only to offer even a moment’s reprieve from the torment in her chest.
But as another bolt of lightning flashed beyond the window, she knew there was no end to the torrential rain. At least not tonight.
“Do ye ken how to measure the storm?” Theo’s voice came low and soothing, tickling her ears from across the room.
“Ye can do that?” she asked, surprised, glancing toward where his frame lay near the hearth.
He had tilted his head just enough to lend her an ear.
“Ye watch the lightning and count until ye hear the thunder,” he explained. “The number ye reach tells ye how far the storm is. Each count is about a mile. If ye listen closely, ye can hear it rollin’ away.”
Lavina clutched the blanket tighter as another bolt of lightning lit the chamber.
“Now, start countin’,” Theo coaxed.
Lavina counted silently in her head. By the time she reached five, thunder rumbled outside.
“I counted five,” she whispered.
“As did I,” Theo said, his voice calm and steady.
Lavina relaxed into her pillow, a strange comfort wrapping around her.
“There’s yer answer,” Theo murmured, just as another flash split the sky. They waited—
“Ten,” she gasped, surprised.
“Ye see? It’s movin’ away,” he said, shifting to get more comfortable by the fire. “Now, maybe I’ll be able to get some sleep.”
His words pulled a sliver of ire from Lavina as if they were poison working their way to the surface.
She narrowed her eyes at the darkness and snuggled deeper beneath the covers, though unease niggled at her still. Even with the storm moving away, she was sharing the night with a man she believed to be a cold-blooded killer.
There was no way she’d find sleep. If it wasn’t the distant thunder keeping her awake, it was Theo’s snores.
She didn’t know when exactly she had fallen asleep. All she knew was that the bed was just as cold as it had been when she slipped into it. Panic shot through her as she remembered where she was.
Maisie.
She bolted upright, gasping, and threw the covers off her. Her eyes swept across the room, but nothing was disturbed. Theo was gone. When he’d left, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t deny the relief.
Dressed in a fresh gown and with her hair hastily pinned, Lavina stepped into the hall. A guard stood outside the door, staring at the stone wall as if she didn’t exist.
“Where is the blue room?” she asked. “I want to see me sister.”
The guard didn’t speak. He simply turned and marched down the corridor.
To her surprise, the room wasn’t far. It was only a corridor away from Theo’s chambers.
She paused at the door and gently pushed it open.
“Maisie?” she whispered.
Her sister lay still, sound asleep. Safe.
Lavina let out a long breath, the tension finally leaving her spine—but the relief was short-lived. Guilt followed swiftly, like a tide dragging her emotions out to sea.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Her thoughts drifted to Theo.
Perhaps he isnae the monster I’ve made him out to be. What if everything I ken about him is wrong?
Running her fingers through her hair, her chest tightened.
One thing was certain—she owed Theo an apology.
Quietly, she pulled the door shut behind her and turned back down the corridor. The keep was vast, unfamiliar, and confusing.
“And just where do ye think ye’re going?”
The husky voice startled her.
Lavina spun on her heels to find Theo’s man-at-arms, Stephen, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, an apple in hand and mischief in his eyes.
“I’m lookin’ for the Laird,” she replied, lifting her chin.
Stephen arched a skeptical eyebrow and gave her a slow once-over. “Is that so? And what business do ye have with him? Arenae ye supposed to be fussin’ over other things like dinners and banquets, and… pretty little things?”
His sarcasm was thick, sharp enough to sting.
Lavina bristled and rolled her shoulders back. “I must speak with the Laird,” she stated, her voice firm.
“He’s busy with clan matters.”
“Aye, he’s the Laird, and as the title implies, he would be busy.” Her tone turned cold. “But I need to speak with him. It’s important.”
Stephen sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed off the wall.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “He’s in the stables. Come on, I’ll take ye there.”