Chapter 15
Morning crept pale through the shuttered window, the storm spent but leaving a deep hush over the forest. The fire had burned low, its glow casting amber shadows across the small cottage.
Fawn stirred beneath the furs, her cheek brushing against Rhodes’s chest, her breath warm against his skin. He tightened his arm around her, savoring the feel of her in his embrace, the temptation of another slow, lingering joining before the day began.
She shifted, her lips curving in a sleepy smile as she pressed closer, her hand sliding along his chest. His breath caught, heat sparking low and insistent. He rolled toward her, capturing her mouth in a kiss meant to deepen, to lead them back into the fire of the night before.
The knock came hard against the door.
Fawn startled, drawing back. Rhodes let out a sharp curse, pushing himself up on one elbow.
“My lord!” Boyce’s voice carried over the wood. “I brought horses to get you back to the keep. There are matters that need your attention.”
Rhodes swore again under his breath, his jaw tightening. He swung his legs off the bed, raking a hand through his disheveled hair.
“I will join you shortly,” he called out to Boyce.
Fawn sat up, annoyed, having thought they would have more time alone together, time to learn more about each other, time to bond.
“Already?” she asked, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.
He glanced back at her, his dark eyes still hot with the remnants of desire, feeling the same as she did, but… “Duty demands it.”
She bit her lip, glancing toward the fox curled in the corner, the doves shifting restlessly in the rafters, Sage solemn in his perch, and Rook croaking low in his nest.
“Aye, you’re right, duty does demand our time. And my duty demands I not leave them.”
His response was firm. “We will return soon. Your creatures and your belongings will be brought to the keep. But we leave now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your word on that?”
“You have my word.” The vow came easily enough, though inside he knew it was as much strategy as concession. It had to be done. If she was to truly be his wife, she must belong to the keep. To him. And she would never stop slipping back to this place unless he tore her roots from it himself.
Fawn reluctantly yielded. “Very well. But we return for them today,” she said, worried that his duties might infringe on hers, leaving his word questionable.
Rhodes reached for her hand, tugging her gently from the bed. “Aye. Today.”
“Aye, today,” she confirmed with a strong nod, “for they cannot do without me.”
“Either can I,” he said, his tone serious, then caught her lips with his, stoking the passion that continued to simmer between them.
Rhodes grudgingly ended the kiss, mumbling beneath his breath as he left her standing by the bed to tug on his garments. His linen shirt clung cold against his skin before the wool and leather brought warmth.
“I must tend to the animals before I can leave,” Fawn said, slipping on her tunic over her wool shift.
“Be hasty about it,” he ordered, drawing his cloak over his shoulders and stepped outside.
Fawn wondered over her husband. He seemed two men to her, one who showed a glimpse of a man with a caring heart and another who appeared more of a cold-hearted leader. Could that be what her mum had warned her about?
She would have endless time to find out since she was now his wife. She shook her head and turned her attention to the animals.
The storm had ended, the snow nearly reaching Rhodes’s ankles as he walked toward Boyce and several of his warriors. The relentless wind had left snowdrifts that would hamper travel and the horses stamped and snorted, their breaths rising white into the cold air.
Boyce stood waiting, his cloak dusted with frost, his stance solid as ever.
Rhodes strode to him, demanding, “Is there news?”
Boyce shook his head. “Not yet. The men who left before the storm worsened should return today, since I only sent them to the nearby villages to inquire about wolfhounds. If any keep them, or if some have gone missing, we’ll know soon enough.”
Rhodes’s jaw tightened. “The culprit thought to leave me vulnerable. He wants my people to suddenly question my strength.”
“They’ll not doubt for long,” Boyce said, his tone steady. “When the one responsible is found, all will know your hand is still iron.”
Rhodes’s gaze narrowed on the tree line. “It should not take this much time. A whisper, a slip of a tongue, something should have reached us already.”
“Unless,” Boyce said carefully, “the one who loosed those hounds meant to leave no trace. A hidden enemy is the most dangerous kind.”
Rhodes’s temper sparked hotter at the truth of it, though more disturbing was the thought that continued to linger. What if dark forces had a hand in it? How did he battle that? How did he even dare to speak of such horror?
“There is more on your mind?” Boyce asked, catching the way Rhodes’s eyes narrowed, and his nose flared in anger.
Rhodes tempered his anger but kept a firm tone. “There is always more on my mind, always possibilities to consider, decisions to be made, a clan to protect, to keep safe.”
“And there is not a clan member who believes it will be otherwise than it has always been. They are confident you can continue to be the powerful laird you are.”
Rhodes arched his brow. “Stroking my ego, Boyce.”
Boyce grinned. “Your ego needs no stroking, my lord.”
“So now you tell me I have a huge ego?” Rhodes asked with a smirk.
Boyce quickly turned his glance on the cottage. “Why does your wife linger so long. We waste the morning and possibly miss our men returning with news.”
Rhodes didn’t utter a word, he simply took strong steps to the cottage.
Warmth and the scent of herbs wrapped around him as soon as he entered.
Fawn stood in the center of the room, her hair loose about her shoulders, slipping off the linen apron that covered her garments.
She tossed it on the table and bent to stroke Ash, then lifted her face to the rafters where the doves cooed, her voice gentle and low.
“You’ll all be safe,” she said to them as if speaking to children. “I’ll return today, I promise. We’ll go to the keep together, to our new home.”
Rhodes’s mouth hardened. He lifted her cloak from its peg by the door, strode forward, and draped it firmly over her shoulders.
“No more delays,” he said, his voice edged with a stern command.
Before she could protest, he scooped Sprig up from the table where the kitten had nested on the discarded apron, dropped him into the pouch stitched to her cloak, and settled the folds over him. Sprig poked his head out with a soft mewl, eyes bright.
With a firm grip on Fawn’s arm, Rhodes turned her toward the door. “It’s time.”
She looked back once, her gaze sweeping over her friends, certain she saw worry in their eyes.
“I’ll return for you,” she called out fiercely.
Then, with her husband’s unrelenting hand guiding her, she was forced from the cottage into the waiting cold.