Chapter 12 #2
He grunted in response, but inside, the shift of her name in his mouth felt like a pinched nerve. It irritated him how quickly Billy had corrected him. How the sound of her name set fire to every single nerve.
He leaned over the map. “Let’s draw out the Southern approach. If they’ve pulled back from their Eastern flank, we might push straight through the woods. What do ye think, Billy?”
William stepped beside him and began adjusting pieces. “Aye, but we’d be bottlenecked by the ridge. Good point for an ambush.”
“We’d have the advantage of height.”
“Nae if they have tree scouts.”
Rhys exhaled through his nose, but kept studying the parchment.
William continued, outlining a different tactic which involved skirmishing from three sides, baiting them into false retreat, which sounded like a better plan, but Rhys had stopped listening.
His mind betrayed him. Again.
Flashes of Amara’s face flickered in the quiet spaces between William’s words. Her lips parted when he had asked her to. The tension in her shoulders when she squared up in defiance. The soft pink flush on her cheeks when Myles had flirted with her.
Rhys’s jaw clenched painfully.
Called her a guest.
He’d meant to make it clear. Set the boundary before it blurred into something messier. But that blush that crept up her neck and flushed her cheeks hadn’t left his mind all morning. She wore it like it was a mark that he’d put here.
Rhys pressed a hand against the edge of the table, grounding himself in the grain of the wood.
William adjusted another marker, still strategizing, “If we go through the old riverbed, we’ll need at least six more carts. Mayhap more if the siege lasts.”
Rhys gave a slow nod. “Aye. Put together a list, Billy.”
William didn’t say a word about his lack of focus, but Rhys certainly felt it. The silence was heavy. Knowing.
He turned back to the window, needing to reset his mind.
Battle. War. Steel —
Instead, he heard pealing laughter.
High-pitched. Familiar.
He stepped closer to the window and looked down into the courtyard.
Daisy.
She was running after a ball, her curls bouncing, her face alight with unfettered joy. Nina stood nearby, next to Daisy’s nurse, both clapping and calling out encouragement. Myles lounged on the low wall, shouting playful instructions.
And then he saw her. Amara.
She was laughing the hardest he’s ever seen a lady laugh in his life. Her skirts hiked slightly as she chased after the ball that Nina had tossed, her bare calves flashing in the sun, golden hair loose and wild. She moved like sunlight.
It was soft and good and something he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t look away from.
She scooped up the ball and spun with it, holding it out toward Daisy, her smile wide and full.
His gut twisted.
She wasn’t supposed to be there. She was supposed to be in the library, not prancing around his courtyard with his child. Not laughing like she belonged.
What the bleedin’ hell is this?
He stared harder.
The way her legs moved. The lines of muscle in her arms and along her legs as they flashed. The freedom in her body movements.
He could almost feel the press of her against him, the weight of her in his arms, the taste of her mouth. His hands flexed at his sides and Rhys cursed under his breath.
“What is it?” William asked, already moving toward the window.
Rhys didn’t answer. He backed away.
She is a sweet demon set in this place to give me a taste of hell… Trouble incarnate.
He’d brought her into his own home.
Trouble that kissed him like a secret and made his daughter squeal with laughter.
Rhys’s temples throbbed.
Why is she out there? Why was she not feelin’ well last night? What has been goin’ on under me roof without me say?
His fists curled again.
If the Murdochs didn’t kill him, this woman just might.
She shouldn’t be there.
Rhys paced the length of the study like a caged wolf, the edge of the map table brushing his hand with every turn. The image of her bare legs catching the sun, and her golden blonde hair bouncing behind her was seared into his vision. He blinked hard, but she didn’t leave him.
Out there with Daisy. With Nina. With Myles.
“What’s the movement from the west?” William asked, voice even but louder than before.
Rhys didn’t answer.
William bent over the map, tapping his dagger against the western ridge. “We could reposition the carts here, draw their scouts toward the glen. A feint.”
Rhys didn’t look.
“Or,” William said a little more forcefully, “we could wait a fortnight, test their supply lines first. Robert’s thinkin’ the Murdochs might run lean come next moon.”
Still nothin’.
William sighed and straightened, folding his arms. “Rhys?”
Rhys stopped pacing, jaw set like granite.
The man tilted his head. “Do ye wanna tell me what has yer cloak in a knot? Or shall I just keep throwin’ battle plans at the wall and hopin’ somethin’ sticks?”
Rhys dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled, slow and sharp. “She was supposed to be in the library.”
“With Myles, aye.”
“Aye. I told him that she was meant to be readin’ dusty scrolls and stayin’ out of our way.”
William reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, she’s hardly wreckin’ the place. They were just playin’ with the lass.”
“Me daughter doesnae need her,” Rhys snapped.
William raised a brow and nodded slowly. “So, is this,” he lifted a hand and gestured to the clearly frustrated laird in front of him, “about Miss Daisy… or Lady Amara, then?”
Rhys just heaved an exhale, and his eyes locked onto William’s.
He, however, didn’t flinch. “Ye have been colder than a stone floor since last night. Did I miss somethin’?”
Rhys turned his gaze to the window again, though the courtyard was now empty. They’d moved on, all of them had.
“She’s… unpredictable,” he muttered.
“She is a woman,” William said plainly, mouth twitching.
“She’s nae just any woman. She’s a Murdoch. A liability.”
“Well, then why did ye bring her along? Ye are acting like ye made a pass at her and she jilted ye.”
Rhys turned on him, eyes blazing.
The two men stared at each other for a moment too long until finally Rhys looked away.
“We kissed yesterday before the dinner.”
William didn’t answer.
“It was a mistake. Daisy almost saw,” he muttered.
Rhys let his head fall back against the stone mantle, closing his eyes. The scent of her still haunted his memory. Her mouth tasted like hope… and ruin.
“She makes me forget,” he said quietly.
“Forget what?”
“The cost,” he said, opening his eyes again. Of rage. Of vengeance. Of duty. Of everything. I’m useless, even when she’s nae around me.
“That seems to bother ye more than I reckon it should, Rhys.”
“She smiles at me daughter like she’s been here her whole life. She’s soft when she should be guarded. And she takes to this place like the ground is hers.”
“Sounds like she’s made herself at home…”
Rhys’s jaw clenched.
He pushed off the hearth and strode back toward the table. The map of Murdoch lands staring up at him wide and waiting. The blood of his kin screamed for justice. His cousin still lost behind those walls. The men who slaughtered Daisy’s mother still clinging to their righteous breaths.
He had no time for distractions.
No space for longing.
And yet he could still feel the warmth of her waist against his arm. The flight tremble in her fingers when she’d clutched onto him. The way her body molded into his.
“She needs boundaries,” he said aloud, as if saying it made it true. “Structure. Clear limits.”
William gave a grunt. “She’s nae a soldier.”
“She’s in me keep. That makes her me responsibility.”
William walked to the window and leaned against the frame, assessing the now empty courtyard and smiling. “Ye could always just ask what she needs. She’s got a mind of her own, and nay home to return to. She might just surprise ye yet.”
Rhys shot him a look. “I daenae need any more surprises.”
William let out a tension-cracking laugh. “Oh sure, and kissin’ her certainly helped build up all those boundaries and limits, then?”
He rubbed at his temple instead, weariness digging in deeper than any blade ever had. He couldn’t think like this. Couldn’t plan while she danced around the edges of every though. How did it get so out of control?
He needed clarity.
He needed control.
He needed — “Daisy too has a mind of her own. Perhaps this is one thing ye cannae control, Rhys. She likes her.”
Rhys didn’t answer.
William let the silence settle. “And so do ye.”
Rhys met his gaze. There was no jest or grin. Just understanding. Which was worse, somehow… much worse.