Chapter 7
Rhys woke up the next morning, determined to ignore his attraction to Amara. She was no longer his prisoner.
He’d meant what he’d said about continuing the truce, but she would still need to be watched. She was still a Murdoch, and she could still cause problems for his clan.
He needed to keep his focus on Finn, not the way Amara’s blonde hair wrapped around her so lovingly while she slept. When he woke up, his gaze had immediately sought her out and now he sat there staring at her, cursing himself for doing so, but not able to turn away.
Last night, he’d been entranced by the way the firelight had shimmered in her eyes. How her cheeks had flushed a becoming pink when she told him she wanted to stay at his castle.
“Ye're up early,” William said, walking over to him.
Rhys jerked his gaze away from Amara’s sleeping form and quickly got to his feet.
“Aye. I want to get home, Billy,” he answered. Walking over to the fire, he kicked dirt and grass over the dying coals to smother it. Smoke rose, barely visible in the early morning darkness.
“And the lass?” The man pressed, glancing at Amara. “Are we truly takin’ her with us?”
Rhys nodded sharply. “She may yet prove useful.” He wasn’t ready to tell Billy, or anyone else, about the deal he’d struck with Amara yet.
He wasn’t even ready to accept it himself.
He’d basically agreed to let her live at O’Donnell Castle as a guest and Rhys knew a lot of his clan would not be happy about giving sanctuary to a Murdoch, especially the laird’s daughter.
But he didn’t feel like he had a choice in the matter.
None of this was her fault in any way. She certainly hadn’t killed his father, and she hadn’t been responsible for Finn’s capture.
She’d been a pawn in Rhys’s own plan to secure his cousin’s release, but then she was ‘thrown to the wolves’, as she’d said last night, by her own father.
She had nowhere to go. If she went home, Rhys didn’t put it past the older laird to inflict harm her, or even worse. Laird Murdoch had shown no concern that his daughter was being held by his enemy. He had not wanted her back. He didn’t care if Rhys or his clan lay waste or killed Amara.
What kind of man was that?
Rhys had been called many things in his life: ruthless, a beast, a knave, to name a few. But he’d never been cruel to a woman and he wasn’t going to start now. Especially since the lass was in this position through no fault of her own.
Nay, the responsibility lay completely at me own feet.
“Is she to be prisoner then?” William asked. “Should I bind her wrists for ye?”
“Nay.” Rhys shook his head. “Aye.” He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “She is to be something in between.”
He nodded as if it made perfect sense and left to pack up his sleeping roll and get ready to leave. Myles was tying down his belongings to his horse, already packed and ready to go. He glanced at Rhys, then Amara, and frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Rhys walked over to Amara, who was still peacefully sleeping. He wanted to lean down and kiss her awake. No, he wanted to crawl beneath the covers with her and wake her in a much more pleasant and lustful way. Instead, he toed her backside lightly with his boot.
“Time to leave, lass.”
She mumbled something in irritation and pulled the blanket over her head. Rhys toed her again, this time with a little more force.
“Come now, lazy bones. ‘Tis time to go.”
The blanket inched its way slowly down her face until he could see her eyes. Still drowsy with a softness he had never seen in them before, her eyes lifted up at him, narrowing with annoyance.
“’Tis nae even light yet,” she grumbled, but she at least sat up.
“Considerin’ how slow ye seem to be movin’… By the time ye're ready, it will be.”
She glanced at the fire pit and frowned at the smoke still rising from where he’d smothered the coals.
“Do ye plan to starve me? Are we nae even to break our fast first?”
“We’ll be at the castle shortly. Can ye nae wait?” Rhys asked with impatience. He just wanted to get home and back to his life. He wanted to see Daisy and he needed to talk to the council, to come up with some kind of plan for rescuing Finn.
“I hope ye like stew,” William said as he walked by, obviously hearing their discussion. “Cook makes it thick as mortar, but it keeps the ribs warm.”
A low grumbling sound drew Rhys’s gaze to her stomach. A blush stained her cheeks as she clamped a hand over the offending area and raised her chin.
“Ye daenae happen to have some of that with ye now, do ye?” she asked her palms rubbing her stomach as she bent over with visible discomfort.
There was something about her hands resting on her torso made his groin tingle.
But Rhys stomped over to his horse and retrieved his saddlebag.
He withdrew the little bit of food they had left, just a chunk of cheese and some nuts wrapped in a cloth, then strode back over to her. He tossed it onto her lap.
“’Tis all we have,” Rhys grouched.
Nearly an hour later they were finally mounted and riding toward home. They were already on O’Donnell land which had Rhys relaxing a little.
“Do ye have a betrothed, lass?” William asked. He rode on one side of Rhys and Amara while Myles rode on the other.
Rhys tried to ignore the way her body felt so snug and perfect against his back. Her arms were wrapped around his middle, her fingers laced together to keep her from falling off. True to his word, he hadn’t bound her, and true to her word, she hadn’t tried to escape.
He felt her stiffen slightly at William’s question before she answered. “Nay, I daenae.”
“Did ye beat them all away, then?” Myles asked, obviously referring to how Amara had whacked him over the head with a tree branch.
“Do ye have wives or are ye betrothed?” Amara asked instead of responding to Myles.
“Nay,” William answered. “Why settle down and deny all the other ladies the pleasure of our company?”
Amara laughed and Rhys stiffened. The sound was soft and feminine and shot straight to his loins. This was the first time he’d heard her laugh and he vowed he’d find more opportunities to hear her laughter again.
“Likely the women are smarter than that and willnae tie themselves to two rogues like ye,” she responded.
Rhys relaxed even more as Amara and his kinsmen kept up a lighthearted conversation. Even Myles was being less grumpy with Amara, although he knew it probably wouldn’t last.
O’Donnell Castle came into view a little while later, and within the hour they were riding across the drawbridge and into the courtyard. Amara stiffened behind him.
“Easy lass,” Rhys said quietly so no one else could hear. “They may nae like ye, and certainly daenae trust ye, but they willnae harm ye without me permission.”
“Are ye sure about that?” Her breath teased the back of his neck, and he struggled to repress a shiver of excitement.
“Aye,” he snapped. Not because he was angry with her, but because he was pissed at himself for not being able to control his desire for her.
William and Myles continued riding to the stables, but Rhys stopped his stallion by the front doors of the castle. He swung down and then helped Amara down, removing his hands from her waist so quickly, as if touching her was burning him.
“Da! Da! Ye're home!”
A genuine smile broke out over Rhys’s face when he saw his daughter run down the steps to greet him.
Daisy’s maid, looking harried and frustrated, followed after the child, several different colored ribbons dangling from her hand.
Obviously, she had been in the process of fixing Daisy’s hair when the child realized her father was home and ran off to meet him.
“Daisy, me bonny lass,” Rhys said. He squatted down and opened his arms wide. His daughter threw herself in his arms.
“I missed ye, Da!”
“I missed ye more, me Daisy,” Rhys said, pulling her back to look at her. “Did ye grow again?”
The child laughed and shook her head. “Ye werenae gone that long, Da!”
“’Tis a good thing or else ye might be taller than me when I returned.”
Daisy laughed, her innocent joy ringing around the courtyard.
“Now, go with yer maid and let her finish gettin’ ye presentable. I’ll come find ye later and we can spend some time together.”
Daisy hugged him one last time, kissed his cheek, then rushed back to her maid.
“Me Laird! Welcome home,” several people called out as he and Amara walked up the stairs to the double doors that led into the castle. He nodded in response, then glared at a couple of women who were shooting daggers with their eyes at Amara.
The women quickly bowed their heads, but their faces heated with anger at having a Murdoch in their midst. Some of these women had lost husbands and sons six years ago during that fateful feast and they weren’t likely to forget it anytime soon.
Rhys ushered Amara through the great hall and up the narrow stone staircase that hugged the wall. He led her past two doors, then paused outside of one and finally turned to look at her.
He hadn’t realized it before, but she was a mess. Her hair had come loose from its braid and stuck out all over her head, reminding him of a rat’s nest. There were dirt streaks on her pale face and her skirts had grass and mud stains. Somehow, though, she still looked beautiful.
“This will be yer chamber for the time bein’,” he said as he opened the door and pushed it wide.
Amara looked up at him and hesitated before stepping inside. She turned, probably expecting him to follow her into the chamber, and opened her mouth. Whatever she was going to say didn’t make it past her lips.
“I’ll be back to check on ye later. I’ve got to meet with me council.”
Pulling the door closed, he turned and walked down the hallway. Myles came up the stairs just as Rhys was getting ready to go down them.
“Call the council to meet,” Rhys ordered.
He didn’t wait for a response. He was still angry at Myles for shirking his duty last night.
Thankfully, they’d been on the edge of Murdoch land and the likelihood of being attacked by warring clans or thieves hadn’t been great.
But that was not the point. Myles knew better than to fall asleep while on watch.
They were all taught that importance since they were lads.
Rhys continued down the stairs and into the kitchen. He paused long enough to order a maid be sent to Amara’s room and to grab a warm oatcake off the counter, before continuing through the door that led outside.
He immediately went to the barrel of water and dunked his head, coming up sputtering from the icy coldness. Shaking his head like a wet dog, he took a deep, calming breath, then washed his face and hands. At least the cold water served to cool his lust.
Damn but the lass gets to me. I cannae seem to be near her without me manhood standing up to join the conversation.
Rhys used his tartan to dry his face, ran his fingers through his hair to get out the tangles, then went back inside. Going to his chamber, he quickly changed into clean clothes, then headed to the council chamber.
Everyone was already there waiting for him.
Rhys took his seat at the head of the long table, as was his right as laird of the O’Donnell’s, and waited impatiently for the older men to settle down.
“I called ye here to discuss Finn’s capture,” Rhys said after a moment.
The council members looked at each other, their expressions showing their confusion. They’d expected Rhys to have returned with Finn, not with the Murdoch lass.
“Laird Murdoch refused the exchange,” he explained next. “He dinnae even hesitate when he declined.”
A low murmur went around the chamber as the elders discussed this unexpected outcome.
“Mayhap he was stallin’,” Angus, the youngest council member suggested. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he frowned in thought.
“Nay,” Rhys denied. “The man was adamant. He made it clear that he dinnae want his daughter back.”
“He told ye this?” Leighton Baird asked, surprise coating his voice.
Rhys nodded then pounded a fist on the table. “Aye, the bastard did. He told me to kill her for all he cared.”
The others gaped at each other, horrified that a father could forsake his child so easily.
“He would have nay discussion on releasing Finn,” Rhys continued. “I’m nae even sure me cousin is still alive, but if he is, he’s surely being tortured.”
“Ye daenae ken that for sure,” Leighton said, trying to calm Rhys before he could lose his temper. Rhys could always trust the man to speak with the weight of wisdom and the hush of peace.
But this time, it didn’t work.
Rhys had been fighting his temper, and lust, for too long.
“Aye, I do,” he snapped a hand falling heavily on the table, as if this back and forth had done nothing but further his frustrations, which it clearly had.
“There’s nothin’ left to do but to put a torch to Murdoch’s gates, tear down his walls, and drag every last man from the halls if it’s what it takes to bring Finn home. ”
“There are ways to bring him home without sheddin’ blood,” Leighton remarked. “We just need to find one that works.”
“I willnae wait for diplomacy to buy time while Finn dies in chains,” Rhys snapped.
“And we willnae make such a bold move and risk breakin’ the treaty without further discussion,” Robert, the second oldest council member, said, his tone brokering no argument.
Rhys tried to push his stance for a while longer, but the elders were adamant that there needed to be more discussion before they took such drastic measures.
Furious and feeling helpless, Rhys left the council chamber.
He’d had no particular destination in mind; he’d just wanted to get out of the chamber before he lost his temper.
But suddenly he found himself standing outside Amara’s chamber door, and the next thing he knew, he had a raised fist, ready to knock.