Chapter 14
The lass was hiding something from him; Keegan was sure of it. As he stared her down, he could see that Willow was cracking under the pressure of his intense gaze, as intended.
“Speak, lass. Why have ye decided to tell me about this so close to the exchange date? It occurs in three days. What is yer great goal for all this?”
Willow pulled a lungful of air into her, her head pitching back slightly before she met his eyes again with a practiced smile.
“I told ye, Keegan.” She nodded, increasing the power of her grin. “I wish to protect me men, and furthermore, I wish to protect me sister. Surely, ye are aware of what that feels like. Lilith is me family. I cannae see her harmed.”
Keegan narrowed his eyes, smirking as he took a step forward. “Why would yer sister be at the exchange? Is Magnus the type to bring each of his family members into battle? I havenae see either of ye there before.”
The shock of being caught in a slight falsehood played over Willow’s face.
“I—”
“Before ye speak, lass,” Keegan cut in, “ye should ken that I can sense this isnae the entire truth. There is something to it, aye. I ken ye care for yer men and yer sister. Of that, I have no doubt. But ye havenae said the whole of yer motivations. Now have ye?”
Willow’s eyes were wide, a doe caught before the hunter at the wrong end of his bow. She blinked rapidly, fidgeting on her feet as if she wished to avoid what was racing through her mind—through her body.
Keegan’s attention was suddenly split. In truth, he admired what Willow was doing, and her bravery…
it did something to him. He’d managed to keep his distance from Willow for a time now, and it had been an incredible challenge.
Now, now that they were in this room alone together once more, that heat in his blood was impossible to ignore.
“I daenae ken what ye’re talkin' about, Laird Brahanne. If ye willnae be accepting me information, I shall see meself back to me room.”
Willow attempted to turn away, but Keegan snatched her arm, not roughly but firmly enough to keep her in place.
“Ye will be tellin' me what concerns ye so much about the archers in the field. Yer own men would be safe from them, and yer sister willnae be there. Are ye concerned for yer own safety?”
He cocked a brow, studying Willow intently. So much, in fact, that he would notice even the slightest flicker of emotion play over her face. Frustration, anger, self-preservation, he expected to see all that. What the laird did not expect to see was Willow’s resignation about her own life.
“Of course, I am concerned about makin' it out of the exchange alive.”
Willow’s tone was even, but there was a slight hollowness to her voice. She only cared so far as anyone might. It was not her motivation. She had not offered up the nugget of truth he sought.
“That isnae it. I can tell. Are ye concerned for the men of Brahanne Castle? Have ye grown a fondness over the past few days to those like Rodrick?”
A flash of something washed across her face, and Willow’s stare darted to the floor and then the door before landing on him again. He was getting closer to the heart of the matter.
“I…I daenae wish to see anyone harmed if I can help it.”
Oh, he had stumbled onto something indeed. Willow’s body was rigid with tension, and Keegan could feel the rising heat billowing off her as he stepped closer once more. The space between them was as narrow as a bird’s wing now, and he walked her backward as Willow retreated from Keegan’s advance.
The thump of her hitting the shelves behind her was low and deep.
Keegan’s eyes roamed over her face, taking in every emotion that played across her features as they occurred before him.
Willow’s skin also glowed in the warm light from the candles burning in the sconces nearby and the fire that roared in the hearth behind him.
“Laird Brahanne, what are ye—”
“Daenae play games with me, lass. Ye daenae wish to see anyone harmed. Is that what ye said? And why is it that I can still see the glimmer of falsehood on ye? Hmm? What are ye keepin' locked up behind those pretty lips?”
She blanched, and the reaction spoke as much as her lack of words. Keegan would also keep pushing this point because he knew that both of them wanted those words out in the open. He had to hear her say it.
He would.
Willow didn’t respond this time. The shocked expression she wore was the final clue that Keegan was correct. But silence was not an option here. And he wasn’t playing that silly game of hers where she refused to talk to him.
“Might I remind ye, lass, of what happened the last time ye attempted to keep information from me?”
A lovely flush crept up Willow’s cheeks and led down her fair skin to her neck and chest. Desire rose in Keegan’s blood, and he could feel himself stiffen beneath the thick folds of his plaid.
Damn this woman. She will be the death of me.
That pink was all Willow offered, however.
It looked like his little mouse would be holding her tongue indefinitely, which would not do.
Keegan stepped closer still, pressing his thigh between hers and planting a hand on the shelf near her head.
He gripped the word, his entire body roaring, demanding that he take action—now.
“Lass,” he drawled, towering over her, “will ye keep that mouth shut tight? Shall I have to pry the truth from ye?”
Willow met his stare, her lidded with an unmistakable lust, and he knew that she was remembering their last entanglement. He just knew it.
“I…”
Her words trailed off. Keegan could see Willow working through the logic of her next move in her head. She was an intelligent woman, and the fact that she’d learned of her brother’s secret tactics was undoubtedly something else. It was…intriguing. Attractive.
Something in Willow’s expression changed then, and Keegan watched with keen interest as she looked from his lips to his eyes.
“Will ye then? Will ye steal truths from me lips?” Willow’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Along with what ye’ve already stolen? Does the Laird of Brahanne Castle look to claim more from the simple Lady Willow?”
She was teasing him—purposefully.
Energy surged through his blood, and Keegan crashed his lips down on Willow’s. His free hand was quick to snake around her waist, and he flattened himself firmly against her. Her body was a red-hot iron in his hands, and she tasted like freshly made wine—full of sweetness and sunshine.
Their mouths danced in what was becoming a familiar series of steps. Keegan worked his knee further between her legs, which forced Willow to turn over her weight to him and lift the outer leg so that she didn’t lose balance too much.
“Simple,” he said against her lips, “is hardly the way I would describe ye, lass.”
Keegan roamed his hand over her side, finding the curve of her breast pressed tightly into her stays.
The plentiful swaths of fabric that made her skirts separated his fingers from her warm flesh, and he would not allow that.
Slowly, the laird gathered the ruffles up in his fist, exposing Willow’s leg to the air.
“And ye will be tellin' me the entire truth,” he rasped in a primal growl, “every single word of it.”
Dipping his head toward her neck, Keegan caressed the fragile skin of her neck with nipping kisses.
Willow moaned against the sensations, her head dropping back until it hit the spines of the books behind it.
The coy woman had no business being as unyieldingly enticing.
Keegan could hardly stand how much the need for her infected his blood—an all-consuming fever of want and desperation.
Trapped in the spell of the moment, Keegan hardly noticed the room around him, but what he felt with complete clarity was the softness of Willow’s skin, that of her neck and that of her thigh, as the bunching fabric was finally too much for him to simply grip.
He piled it over his wrist, reaching into secret depths.
He was confident that Willow was a true lady and had not taken up with anyone for the damage it would do to her own standing.
Still, even if that weren’t enough, Keegan would have been sure of it thanks to the tremble that hummed through her.
She was struggling for breath with even this teasing touch.
“There…ooh,” her words were broken as Keegan gripped the fullness of her arse beneath her dress, “I…there isnae anythin' more for me to tell ye.”
He didn’t believe that for a moment.
“Come now, lass. Ye wouldnae be lyin' to the laird, now are ye?”
She shook her head, and Keegan admired the way Willow’s face was screwed up in a look of utter anguish as he caressed the inside of her thigh. She was already so hungry for more, and the sight was as bonny as any he’d seen in his entire life.
Willow had been gripping the shelf at the middle of her back. Still, as Keegan swept his fingers over the crook of her hip, Willow jerked, and then her arms flew up to his shirt, gripping the fabric with white knuckles.
“Such a smooth, sweet spot, lass. Will ye be tellin' me the entire truth then?”
Whimpering for him, Keegan surged, his body thrumming with the call to claim her fully.
He would not. Whatever this was between them, he could not take away the woman’s chance at a proper marriage.
As much as the thought of her giving that gift to someone else inexplicably made his blood burn all the hotter, possessive fury roiling.
“Keegan, ye must…I cannae…” But instead of shoving him back, which he would not have put past her, Willow hiked up her leg, dropping her head to his chest. “It is a torture. What are ye doin' to me?”
He chuckled, low and dark. Keegan could not deny the air of sadistic joy he took from seeing Willow so worked up as she was.
“Shall I leave ye be? Are ye quite willin' to speak of why ye came to me? The full truth?”
Keegan hesitated, pausing his movement over her thighs that had begun to steadily creep closer and closer to her center.