Chapter 18
His kiss ended slowly, reluctantly, as though even Rhodes himself was unwilling to break from her. When he finally lifted his head, his dark eyes lingered on hers, heavy with something he had yet to understand.
Fawn’s heart thudded hard against her ribs. Her lips tingled, her breath uneven, and she wondered if she would ever stop being startled by the power of his touch and how much she welcomed it.
Rhodes drew back a step, his arm falling from her waist, though the warmth of it lingered. He cleared his throat, as if reminding himself of his purpose. “Settle in and tend to your animals. I’ll come for you when it’s time for supper.”
She gave a small nod, unable to speak without betraying more than she intended.
When the door shut behind him, the chamber felt larger, quieter, yet not empty, for his presence clung to the air like smoke from the hearth. She pressed a hand to her lips for a moment, then shook herself, turning to the baskets waiting to be opened.
Sprig stirred in his new nest by the fire, blinking drowsily at her as she set about her work. She moved carefully, lifting the lids, speaking softly to each creature as she welcomed them to their new home.
She glanced at the shuttered windows. “Sage, Bramble and Willow, these windows will serve you all well. High enough for flight, so you may come and go as you please.” She tilted her head back and pointed to the rafters.
“And there is room aplenty for the three of you to have sufficient space to perch.”
Sage hooted and the doves cooed softly, as if in reply.
Her gaze shifted to the raven’s basket. Rook blinked at her with keen black eyes, feathers rustling faintly.
“You’ll fly again too, my friend,” she whispered, crouching low beside him. “When your wing mends, you’ll take to the sky. And when you do, you’ll know you are free.”
Her words faltered as her gaze swept to Ash, the fox curled comfortably in a large basket lined with a blanket where she had placed him. His limp was permanent, and her heart ached at the thought of releasing him into a world that would show him no mercy.
“You,” she murmured gently, brushing her hand along his side, “are stuck with me, but we will make the most of it.”
She straightened slowly, the fire’s glow catching in her hair and setting it ablaze with color. For a moment, she let herself go still, her eyes drifting toward the closed door, as though she could see through stone to where Rhodes might be.
How could she already feel the press of his absence?
How could one man occupy so much of her thoughts?
He was her husband, yet there was so much more to him.
He infuriated her, demanded, commanded. And yet, when he looked at her, when his arms claimed her, she felt…
safe. Wanted. Cherished. And dare she think… loved.
Fawn shook her head, rubbing her palms together for warmth. She turned back to her creatures, speaking low as if they could sense her unrest.
“He’ll need to learn,” she said softly, “that to love me, he must love you as well. And maybe…” her lips curved faintly, “maybe he already does.”
Sprig gave a drowsy mewl from his basket, and the fire crackled in easy answer.
For the first time since leaving her cottage, Fawn began to believe she might build a life here. Not only for herself, but for them all.
The heavy door to his solar closed with a dull thud, shutting out the sounds of the keep. For a moment, Rhodes stood still, one hand braced against the oaken panel, the other clenched at his side.
Her taste lingered on his lips and her defiance lingered in his thoughts.
He cursed softly, running a hand through his dark hair before crossing the chamber in long strides. The fire in the grate burned low, but he hardly noticed as he poured himself a tankard of ale and downed it in one swallow.
What had he done, letting her beneath his skin so quickly?
He had meant to remind her of her place, of his claim, yet somehow it was he who had been shaken.
The feeling of her pressed against him still burned along his palms. And worse, the fear that had twisted through him when she’d vanished from the hall earlier still clung to his gut.
He had known women before. Desired them, bedded them, sent them on their way. None had occupied his thoughts beyond the moment. But Fawn, his wife, his curse, his salvation? She filled every corner of his mind.
He set the tankard down hard, staring at the flames.
He couldn’t help but wonder again if the witch had a hand in this.
He scowled at the thought. The witch had threatened to end his power, yet he felt no weaker, only more restless. And if it was true that someone dared challenge him, dared to strike at his sheep with wolfhounds, then perhaps his enemies believed the witch had succeeded.
A dangerous mistake.
Still… his jaw tightened. He would find her, the shadow in the woods, and see if she was in any way involved in this. And if she thought to rob him of what was his, she would learn the folly of crossing him.
He dragged in a breath, forcing his shoulders to ease. The scent of roasted meat from the kitchens drifted faintly through the door, a reminder that the evening meal drew near. His mouth curved into a slow smile. He had plans for tonight and they didn’t include sharing Fawn with anyone.
He stepped out of his solar and made his way to the kitchen, servants turning wide-eyed after stepping aside for him to pass, since he never went to the kitchen. The chaos of supper preparations went silent when Rhodes entered. Eyes rounded and mouths set agape at his unusual presence.
“See that my and my wife’s supper is brought to our bedchamber and see that there is extra wine as well,” Rhodes commanded, then turned and left.
It took a while before anyone moved and then whispers started circulating.
Rhodes entered the turret, and for a moment he stood motionless, the sight of the room catching him off guard.
The fire cast a warm glow over the chamber, the baskets settled in place, the creatures resting quietly as though they had always belonged there. A faint, sweet scent lingered in the air, herbs steeped in the hearth’s heat, the kind of fragrance that spoke of comfort and home.
Her comforting touch, he thought grimly. Already she had transformed the space, claimed it, made it hers. And the realization stung him with a sharp, unexpected jealousy. This place, these animals, these simple comforts, they held her heart as surely as he did.
He strode forward, sweeping her into his arms before she could react.
“Rhodes!” she gasped, her arms instinctively circling his neck.
“You best be done,” he said, walking toward the door. “Now you are all mine.”
She didn’t protest, which led him to believe her task was done and she did not object to time with him.
He carried her through the corridors, his steps purposeful.
Servants scurried out of his way, casting curious glances that he did not bother to return.
He reached their bedchamber, pushing the door open with his shoulder.
Inside, the last of the servants were laying out dishes, setting a jug of wine within easy reach. At the sight of their laird carrying his wife, they bobbed their heads quickly and fled, leaving the chamber to them.
The table gleamed with roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming bowls of stew, but Fawn barely glanced at it.
She pressed her lips softly to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, warmth in her voice. “For having our supper brought here.”
He lowered her to her feet but did not let go of her hand.
“I was too tired to deal with other people tonight.” She raised her eyes to meet his, soft but certain. “I much prefer to be alone with you.”
Something sparked in his dark gaze, pleasure, fierce and unexpected, but he said nothing, only held her hand a moment longer before releasing it.
Fawn smiled suddenly and slipped from his grasp, hurrying to the table. “I’m starving,” she said, reaching eagerly for a piece of bread.
Rhodes’s gaze followed her, hunger of another kind flaring in his eyes. He strode to her side, his hand brushing lightly over her shoulder before he sat opposite her.
“Eat,” he said, his voice low and rough with promise. “Eat and gather your strength because I intend to linger when I make love to you tonight.”
Her hand faltered midway to snatching the bread. She snatched up a chunk of cheese instead, stuffing it quickly past her lips so he would not see her mouth drop open.
Make love.
The words struck her harder than any command. He had never spoken them before, never spoken of love at all. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her heart tumbled against her ribs. Did he mean it, or had the words merely slipped past his guard? Could Rhodes, fierce, unyielding laird, truly love her?
She dared not ask. Not yet.
Fawn finished chewing the cheese in her mouth before he could read her expression, then hastily turned the talk. “Did you hear anything of wolfhounds nearby?”
Rhodes tore a piece of bread off the loaf. “One of the men I sent out returned this afternoon. Nothing. No trace of wolfhounds in the nearby villages.”
They exchanged possible ideas about the wolfhounds as the fire snapped and hissed, and the wind rattled the shutters. Then for a time, they ate in companionable silence, the warmth of the food easing the day’s edge.
When her plate emptied, Rhodes leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. “When the weather clears, you’ll send word to your parents about our wedding. I will meet them.”
The bite of bread in her hand stilled. Her heart thudded. Meet them? Panic pricked at the edges of her calm.
She lowered her gaze to her plate, hesitating.
His voice hardened. “Do you not wish me to meet them, wife?”
Her head snapped up at the sharp question. “It isn’t that. I already told you that my mum can be… difficult.”
A wry twist touched his mouth. “So, I will manage her as I do you.”
Fawn forced a smile, though unease gnawed at her. “My parents travel often. It isn’t always easy to reach them.”
The lie slid off her tongue smoother than she expected, but guilt burned hot in her chest. The truth, that she could call on them any time, that her mother was the witch who had granted his cursed wish, stayed locked in her heart where it must remain.
Rhodes studied her for a long moment, as though she was weighing her words. “Nonetheless, see it done.”
She nodded faintly, then stifled a yawn, her hand rising to cover her mouth.
A small smile curved his lips, softening the sharpness in his face. He rose, circled the table, and scooped her up into his arms.
She gasped, though her arms curled around his neck without thought.
“You’re weary,” he said, his tone gentling as he carried her toward the bed. “And I’ll have you before you grow too tired to take me between your legs.”
Another yawn robbed her grin. “You are so romantic.”
“I know no fancy prose. I speak plainly, so you know I desire you.”
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I won’t deny I desire you as well.”
That she desired him fired his passion for her even more.
When he reached the bed, he lowered her to the blankets, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that deepened with each breath, stirring heat between them until her thoughts blurred. Her hands tangled in his hair, clinging, as the ties of her shift loosened beneath his touch.
A knock sounded at the door, sharp and unwelcome.
Rhodes broke the kiss with a curse, his forehead pressing to hers for a heartbeat before he straightened.
“Enter,” he growled. “And be quick about it.”
Boyce strode in, snow clinging to his cloak, his expression grim.
“The second man’s returned,” he said.
Rhodes’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“A witch has been spotted in the woods.”
Rhodes snorted. “I already heard that from an old man on the road home.”
Boyce shook his head. “Aye, our warriors told me of him. But this is different. The witch that was seen… she had a wolfhound with her.”