Chapter 14
The storm battered the shutters, wind howling, snow hissing against the roof. Inside, the cottage glowed with warmth, the fire throwing steady light over the small table where Rhodes and Fawn sat.
The pot of stew she had made earlier still steamed, filling the room with the earthy scent of herbs and root vegetables. Rhodes ate with the appetite of a man who had burned through more than strength alone, his dark hair damp and unruly, his shirt unlaced at the throat.
Across from him, Fawn sat in her shift, her fiery curls falling past her shoulders. She kept her gaze on her bowl, but he caught the way her lashes fluttered when she felt his eyes on her.
Rhodes leaned back, spoon set aside. “We’ll remain here tonight. Best not to challenge the storm.” His voice was calm, certain, as though the world beyond the walls no longer mattered.
Fawn nodded once, though her hand lingered on the rim of her bowl. “Aye. The snow will cover everything by morning.”
His gaze shifted toward the fox curled on his blanket in the corner, the doves nestled together in the rafters, and the owl, perched watchfully in the shadows. “Tell me of your collection of animals,” he said.
Her eyes lifted, surprise flashing, then softened as she glanced around at her companions.
“Frends,” she corrected him. “I tend them as I can. The owl, Sage, and the doves, Bramble and Willow, have become permanent residents. They choose to stay, even when the forest calls them. And Ash…” her voice gentled as she looked at the fox, “his leg will never heal right. He’ll limp always, and that will not serve him well against predators. So, he’ll remain with me.”
Rhodes studied her, the way her voice laced with care and her eyes filled with concern. It struck him that she spoke of the creatures not as beasts nor friends but as though they were kin.
“You intend to bring them all to the keep,” he said, not a question but a statement.
Her gaze snapped back to his. “I worry for them. This is their home, aye, but if I am to make my life at the keep, they must have a place there as well.”
His mouth hardened. “They will not reside in the keep, Fawn.”
She straightened, her chin lifting, defiance flashing in her green eyes. “Then neither will I. If they have no home there, then I have none either.”
The storm howled louder outside, but the silence between them was louder still, firelight painting their faces as their wills collided once more.
Rhodes’s gaze held hers, hard and unyielding. “I’ll not have beasts cluttering the keep. It’s no place for them.”
Her chin rose higher. “Then it is no place for me either. You’ll not have me live apart from who I am.”
“Bloody hell, Fawn, you are my wife,” he shot back, his voice sharp. “Your place is with me.”
Her eyes blazed. “Aye, and I am with you. But if you cannot accept me as I am, then what are we? Nothing but a worthless marriage, two people at war beneath the same roof. We must work together, not apart. Not separate, Rhodes… but as one. As we did when we joined together.”
Her words cut deep. His instinct was to command, to force her obedience, yet the memory of her body beneath his, their breaths mingled, their hearts hammering as one—she was right. That had not been war. That had been unity and something even stronger… love?
Still, his pride clung stubbornly. “And what then? Shall I allow an owl to fly through the hall, frightening half the women into fainting?”
Her mouth curved, stubborn fire in her eyes. “Why not? I want our children to grow with the forest in their hearts. To know its creatures, to care for them, not fear them.”
The word children struck him silent. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, the image rising unbidden—fiery-haired little ones with her green eyes and his stubborn chin, chasing through the corridors, laughter echoing.
His heart thudded hard in his chest, an ache he did not expect, nor know how to name.
Fawn studied him, and for the first time she saw the hardness in his gaze falter.
He spoke slowly, his jaw unclenching. “We’ll not have beasts ruling my keep.”
She waited to see if he would say more, offer balance to the problem.
The bite left this voice. “But… we’ll find a way.”
Relief flickered in her chest, though she kept her chin high, unwilling to give him all the victory. “A way that honors both of us,” she said firmly.
Rhodes leaned back in his chair, his dark gaze never leaving hers. Good Lord, help me, he thought, his heart twisting, she’ll be the end of me. And yet… I cannot imagine life without her.
Fawn lowered her eyes to her stew, hiding the small smile that tugged at her lips. Stubborn brute, she thought, her chest warm despite herself. I’ll not lose him. Not now.
The storm rattled the shutters, the fire hissed, and for the first time since their vows had been spoken, they both felt the fragile beginnings of something neither dared name… a true marriage.
Later, with the stew finished and the fire banked low, they settled beneath the furs on her bed. The storm howled outside, wind lashing against the shutters, but the small room held its own pocket of warmth.
Fawn lay curled against him, her head on his shoulder, his arm heavy around her. For a while she listened to the steady beat of his heart, letting the sound soothe her even as her thoughts churned.
At last, she lifted her head slightly. “Rhodes?”
He grunted in reply, already half-drifting in sleep, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her arm.
“Do you have any notion of who might have set the hounds on the sheep?”
His eyes opened, the weight of his gaze anchoring her. In the silence that followed, his hand stilled on her arm, and his thoughts turned inward.
She thought his silence was meant to dismiss the question altogether. Then his voice came low, taut with thought.
“Aye. Someone bold enough to challenge me. Someone who wishes to see me questioned in the eyes of my clan.”
Fawn saw how the slight scowl on his face made the few lines appear sharper in the firelight. “An enemy of yours.”
He gave a humorless grunt. “Every powerful leader has enemies, Fawn. Most often it is those once thought to be friends.”
“And you? Do you have friends you trust?”
He was silent long enough for her to know the answer before he spoke.
“I have men who serve me loyally.”
“Not the same,” she murmured, realizing that if he had to think on it, if he had to reach for names, then he had no true friends at all.
Before he could reply, the blankets stirred at their feet. Sprig scrambled up the bed, his tiny paws pressing against Rhodes’s side as he wormed his way between them.
Rhodes let out a sharp growl of annoyance. “Not in our bed, wife.”
She smiled, stroking the kitten’s back. “He’s only a tiny bairn. He wants warmth and safety, same as we do.”
“Not for long,” Rhodes muttered, glaring down at the small intruder. “He’ll grow fast enough, and then what?”
As if in answer, Sprig circled once and curled against Rhodes’s side, a small, contented purr rumbling.
Fawn bit back her laughter. “Then he’ll still want warmth and safety.”
Rhodes stared down at the scrap of fur nestled against him. His jaw flexed, but at last he let out an annoyed huff, pulling Fawn closer with his free arm.
“One night,” he warned, though the sternness in his voice lacked bite.
Fawn rested her cheek on his chest, hiding the smile that tugged at her lips, and whispered, “One night.”
Fawn’s breathing softened against his chest, her lashes fluttering once before settling still. Sprig purred at his side, the tiny sound oddly soothing in the storm’s howl. Rhodes lay unmoving, his arm wrapped around her, holding her more tightly than he meant to.
He should have been at ease, his wife safe in his arms, the fire holding back the cold, the storm keeping enemies at bay. Yet his thoughts churned.
Enemies.
He had spoken truthfully, every powerful leader had them. But this attack on the sheep was no random strike. It had been crafted, deliberate, meant to expose weakness. Someone sought to test him. Someone dared to believe he could be toppled.
His gaze drifted to the shuttered window, the snow seeping white around its edges. A darker thought crept in, one he had tried to ignore but kept poking at him. Had the witch kept her word? Had she ended the wish as she threatened?
For over a year no man had dared defy him, no blade had touched him, no battle had been lost. His name alone had been enough to silence dissent. Yet now… wolves were falsely accused, whispers circled among his people, doubt stirring where none had been before.
His gut twisted. If the witch had severed her spell, what was he now? Still Lord Rhodes of Clan MacBrair, aye… but now vulnerable.
He looked down at Fawn, her fiery hair spilled across him, her hand resting lightly over his heart. Fear cut through him, stabbing at his heart. Not fear for himself. Fear of losing what he had not known he craved until now… until Fawn.
He might have no choice but to find and confront the witch, discover what hand she played in this, if any.
And if she hadn’t, then what man was strong enough to break past her spell?
Or was he facing darker forces? It was a thought he hadn’t considered, and it did not set well with him, for that meant he might need the witch’s help.
Wind continued to rattle the shutters, the storm raging on. Rhodes closed his eyes but did not sleep. His arm only tightened around his wife, the weight of love and danger twined too closely to untangle.