Chapter 16
16
Lachlan
Y ou almost kissed her.
You almost bloody kissed her.
I’ve been turning over this fact in my mind for the last half hour, quiet as Key and I continue our trek toward the old Greer castle. I can see it now, just over the next hill—and given that she isn’t peppering me with questions as I am learning she’s prone to do, I can’t help but wonder if she might be thinking about the same thing.
I can’t say what pushed me to throw away every rational thought in my head and lean into her back in the barn. Maybe it was how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the feeling of her delicate body tucked against mine.
Or maybe it’s how fucking beautiful she is, something I wish weren’t so bloody obvious.
I don’t know when it happened—or maybe I do, but just don’t want to admit it—but sometime between Key sitting at my kitchen table begging to help me and leaning against me in a falling-down barn, I seemed to have forgotten all the reasons why I should be keeping her at arm’s length. It’s like now that I can’t drum up proper disdain for her, my brain and body seem to have decided to stage some sort of coup against me, coming to the conclusion that Keyanna MacKay is actually a sensual but somehow also adorable daydream of a woman who I couldn’t have conjured up in my wildest fantasies.
Which, to be fair, has been true since the day I met her—but given that then I was able to bury that knowledge under a thick layer of animosity, it was a lot easier to ignore.
I know that there are bigger concerns here than what her mouth might feel like against mine, and I frantically drudge up those reasons as we both traipse along the wet grass, knowing that this drawn-out silence is only making things worse.
“So, back at the barn—”
“Yes?”
The eagerness in her tone gives me pause, and when I turn to look at her, I can see it in her eyes as well. Those emerald depths stare back at me with shining anticipation, and for a moment I’m spellbound, like a sailor caught in a siren’s song. Does she really have to be so tempting?
“I, uh…” I clear my throat. “That trick with the flame.” I ignore the way her expression falls; there’s nothing to be done for it. “Do you have any idea how you did that?”
“Oh.” She glances down at her feet, shrugging. “No idea.”
“Can you think of anything that might tell you how it happened?”
“I don’t know…It felt like I was heating up, but I mean…You were kind of touching me. And you do run really hot. So I didn’t think much of it until—”
“Until you nearly burned the barn down.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I think when a woman nearly sets my arse on fire, I’m allowed a wee bit of dramatics.”
“Says the guy that turns into a dinosaur at night.”
The bickering is safer territory, and I tell myself I am relieved by it. The softness of the moment in the barn is a dangerous, slippery slope—one I can’t afford to traverse.
“Aye, princess,” I chuckle. “S’pose you’re right.” The castle is in full view now that we’ve crested the hill, and I pause at the top, tilting my head in its direction. “Well, there she is.”
Key looks positively beside herself—her lips parting in a sound that can only be described as some sort of birdcall as she squawks her enthusiasm. And why do I find that cute?
“Oh my God. It’s amazing!”
I cock my head, trying to see it through her eyes, but given that I’ve been here a hundred times, all I can see is the same crumbling piece of history that is a reminder of all the things wrong in my life.
“It’s just an auld pile of rocks, Key.”
She nudges me in the side with her elbow. “Don’t take this from me. We don’t exactly have thirteenth-century castles just lying around in New York.”
“Well,” I say, unable to help the way my lips curl into a grin. “That seems a shame, given your royal status.”
“Ugh. I’m not even going to let you piss me off.” She shakes her head, stomping forward. “Not this time! Let’s go explore.”
I’m still chuckling as I follow after her, her long legs meaning that she’s able to barrel off without me, forcing me to increase my speed just to keep up.
I don’t imagine those legs in any other capacity. Especially what they might feel like wrapped around my waist.
That would be utterly mental.
“This is insane.” Key runs her hand over the weathered stone wall with an expression of awe. “It’s like a fairy tale.”
“Like a nightmare is more like it,” I mutter, letting my eyes sweep across the wall-to-wall stone. “You want to keep going?”
She turns back, biting her lip. “Is it safe?”
My eyes linger on the press of her white teeth against the softness of her lip for a second too long, remembering how close they’d been to mine. I shake the thought away.
“Just keep close,” I tell her.
I’ve shown her the courtyard and the great hall, even let her poke around for the last hour in some of the smaller rooms connected to it. There’s nothing really notable, like I tried to tell her, but it hasn’t stopped Key from acting like this is the most thrilling experience of her life. Even now, she’s touching the weathered old stone as if it were something precious. I try again to see it through her eyes, remembering how it had felt when I first saw it. Like stepping into another world, almost. Now, it’s just a sore reminder.
“Watch your step,” I tell her, eyeing the weak spots in the floor as she keeps exploring. “The last thing I need is to be fishing you out of a hole.”
I don’t see her roll her eyes, but I can practically feel it.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I watch her wander into the next room, the one that I believe was the main dining hall—hearing her ooh s and ahh s when she finds the massive oak table that is still miraculously in one piece.
“Lachlan!” She peeks her head back out, her eyes wide as she waves me over. “Have you seen this?”
I shake my head as I follow after her. “I’ve seen it all, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” She nods absently as she runs her fingers over the dusty surface of the table, her brow furrowed in thought. “When did you first come here?”
I frown, thinking. “I was young. So young, I’m not sure I remember the first time.”
“With your dad?”
“Aye.”
She nods idly, her head practically on a swivel as she takes in the room. “I bet it was really beautiful once.”
“I imagine it was,” I note, unable to keep from watching her as she takes it in.
There’s a wide-eyed innocence to Key that I might normally find annoying, but paired with what I know of her—her determination, her loyalty, her strength even in suffering—it actually leaves me a wee bit in awe of her. It feels almost wrong to admit it, even to myself, but with how jaded this world has left me…seeing Key endure so much in her young life and still have this fresh outlook, this hunger for life…it does something strange to me.
“What’s in there?”
Her voice rouses me from my thoughts as I catch her ducking into the next room—and I hurry after her if only to make sure she doesn’t actually fall through the floor. The sun that has snuck through the clouds streams in through the holes in the ceiling, casting light on the decrepit state of what I’m sure was once an impressive kitchen. I find her there, putting her hands on everything they can touch as if she might learn something just from handling anything within sight.
“This is so cool,” she gushes, holding up a rusted saucepan. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s a pot,” I answer flatly.
She purses her lips. “But think of how old it is! This might have made soup for your great-great-great…something-or-other. Isn’t that neat?”
“Neat,” I echo dumbly, her bright smile slightly dizzying. “Sure.”
“You’re such a spoilsport,” she chuckles. “Show me your favorite room.”
“My favorite?”
She closes the distance between us, tugging on my arm. “Yes. Show me.”
“I…” My mouth closes as I ponder this. “Okay. Come with me.”
I turn on my heel and lead her back through the dining room, through the great hall, to the opposite wing that leads deeper in. I can hear her steps echoing behind me, her gait quick and full of that same eagerness she seems to give everything else. It almost makes me excited to share this with her. I haven’t shared it with anyone in a very long time. Not since I came here with my da.
I pause when we get close to the entrance, turning back. “Close your eyes.”
“What? No.”
I cock a brow. “What happened to your sense of adventure?”
“I’m not entirely convinced you won’t chuck me down an old laundry chute the second I turn my back.”
I can’t help the way my lips curl, and I take a step closer, pressing a knuckle under her chin. “Now, does that sound like something I would do?”
“I…”
I don’t miss the way her eyes flick to my mouth, and I know she’s thinking about it. That she’s remembering how close we came to crossing a line only a short while ago. I tell myself that it’s good that we didn’t, that it would only complicate things—but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how good it might feel.
“Close your eyes, Key,” I urge softly.
I watch the delicate line of her throat bob with a swallow, and after only a second, her lashes flutter closed just as I asked. My knuckle still rests against her chin, and with her eyes shut, I can almost imagine leaning in just a bit, closing the gap, it would be so easy…
I step back, taking her hand instead.
“Now watch your step,” I remind her.
She huffs. “Kind of hard when you told me to close my eyes.”
“Don’t be an arse.”
I lead her carefully into the room, watching the floor as I steer her toward its center. I do my best not to touch her too familiarly, keeping my fingers light against her waist as I turn her where I want her before stepping back. She still looks so eager—her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is just slightly quicker than it should be—and I realize that my excitement over something as simple as this is the most I’ve felt in a long time. I wonder what I might find if I explore that thought.
“Okay,” I tell her, taking another step back. “You can open them.”
Her lashes flutter open as she takes in her surroundings, letting out a gasp when she notices what I’ve brought her to see. The light from the stained-glass window slithers over the old floor, the sunshine streaming through it making the colors seem to dance.
“Wow,” she says, stepping closer.
I reach for her wrist, holding her back. “Careful. It’s ancient.”
“How did it survive this long?”
I shake my head. “No idea. It’s been here as long as we can remember.”
“What does it mean?”
I tug her a step closer, pointing out the images in the center. “It’s my family crest. The tree symbolizes strength. The sword is for power.”
“It’s so strange,” she says quietly. “Isn’t it crazy to think that you had ancestors in this room hundreds of years ago?”
“Aye,” I answer softly. “I reckon it is.” I can still feel the heat of her skin under my fingers, and I could probably let her go, but I don’t. “When I was a lad, I would sit in here for hours while my da scoured this place. The lights change with the movement of the sun.”
“It’s so beautiful,” she murmurs. “Do you ever think about taking it out of here?”
“I wouldn’t want to risk it,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m not sure it would bring me much luck.” I chuff out a laugh. “Never did anyone else in this place.”
“Lachlan,” she starts, her voice full of sympathy. I’m not sure if I like it or not. “I’m—holy shit.”
She brushes past me suddenly, leaving me bereft. “What?”
“You don’t see that? It’s right—”
“Careful, I said!” I move after her. “The floor.”
“I heard you, I heard you,” she says flippantly, still moving toward the corner of the room. “But look!”
“Key,” I say with more force. “I mean it. The floor isn’t stable here.”
“Oh my God. I heard you, okay? I promise. I’m not going to—”
The sharp crack rings through the space, and there is a flash of terror in her eyes only seconds before the floor crumbles beneath her. I feel my heart jump into my throat as I watch her disappear through it, feeling a wave of fear unlike anything I’ve ever known washing over me as I rush to the hole she’s left behind.
“Key? Key! Talk to me. Are you all right?”
There’s a cloud of dust billowing upward, and I think I can make out the faint sounds of movement, my panic still ratcheting higher.
“Keyanna!”
“I’m here,” she says weakly, and a flood of relief courses through me. “I’m okay.”
I blow out a breath, my heart still in my throat. “Bloody hell, Key. I told you to be—”
“Lachlan,” she calls out.
“What?”
“Shut up.”
My mouth falls open, two seconds away from telling her what an eejit she is, but then—
“Get down here.”
Dropping myself down after her is easier than I thought it would be; the room below is hardly eight feet from the floor, leading into a tiny, windowless space. I can’t see any doors either by the thin light coming from above.
Key is dusting herself off, and I push down the urge to check her for injuries. I have a feeling she would tell me to piss off if I fussed over her.
“What is this place?”
She gives me an incredulous look. “You mean you don’t know?”
“I’ve never seen this room before,” I tell her honestly.
Her eyes widen. “You mean I did find something?”
“Aye,” I scoff. “It seems your clumsiness has come in handy.”
“Shut up,” she grouses. “I thought I saw something in the wall upstairs. I couldn’t get close enough to tell what it was before I fell through.”
I let my eyes sweep around the room, taking in our surroundings. In the corner there is a metal cot of some sort, and beside it, a rotting wooden chair that seems days from falling apart. I can’t make out any other remnants of furniture.
“Lachlan,” Key says, crouching by the bed. “Look.”
Attached to bed posts that are bolted into the floor are thick, iron shackles. Too wide for wrists, I think; no, these seem to be the type that would fit around the ankle.
“The fuck is this?” I mutter.
“Pretty sure it’s a dungeon,” she says.
“I’ve seen the dungeon.”
“Wait, you didn’t show me the dungeon?”
“You were too busy waxing poetic about pots.”
“Seriously? How could you not show me the—”
“Key,” I interrupt, pointing behind her. “Look.”
She turns to see what I’m seeing, both of us staring at the etches in the wall that seems random at first, but upon further inspection, it’s clear they’re carvings of some kind.
“They’re so perfect,” Key notes, running her fingers along the grooves. “It’s like a machine did this.”
If I hadn’t lived the life I had, it would almost feel silly to say, “Or magic.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps, almost sounding excited. “Do you think…?”
“I think the writing is on the fucking wall.”
The carvings depict a woman—a beautiful one, one that looks too real to be carved—with wild curls and a willowy frame. There are dozens of eerily perfect etchings of this woman in different scenarios; the highest image shows her offering up something, something that looks suspiciously like the bridle I’ve been desperately searching for. In another, we see it being held by a large man with shoulder-length hair draped in fur and a kilt.
“Do you think that’s your ancestor?”
“It has to be,” I murmur, my eyes still scanning the other carvings.
There is a carving of the woman—the kelpie , no doubt—weeping in the dark. Another where she looks enraged, baring her teeth. We see more depictions of my ancestor: leading his army, standing on a hill holding the bridle high…but it’s the very last carving that gives me pause.
“It’s them,” Key breathes, touching the last image.
The kelpie holds the bridle out to my ancestor, and then he takes it, holding it high above his head. There’s triumph etched in his features, and something like anger grips my chest.
Why did you betray him?
Even as my heart starts to race, I can hear Key’s soft breathing beside me, and oddly, it’s soothing. It reminds me I’m not alone. Not right now, at least.
“What do you think it means?”
I rise from the crouched position I’m in, dusting off my pants as she does the same. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “But it seems like this is where he kept her locked away.”
“You did say he locked her up…after.”
“I did.” I stare at the last image, my mind reeling. “I don’t know if I blame him. Not after what she did.”
From the corner of my eyes, I see Key’s eyes avert to the floor, and hear her whispered “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” I turn to once again press my knuckle to her chin, forcing her eyes up. “It’s not your fault. All right?”
Her eyes, even in this light, are so bright that they seem to cast a glow about the entire room. “It’s not?”
“You’re no more to blame for the past than I am,” I say, surprised to find that I mean it. “You’re here now. You’re trying to make things right. That’s what matters.”
Her lip quivers, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of how close we are. I can viscerally recall the memory of her warm breath against my mouth back in that barn, can feel the heat of her skin pressed against mine.
Would it be so bad?
I can feel myself leaning, once again caught in her spell. And maybe it is a spell. Maybe this gorgeous creature I’ve been taught to fear has me bewitched.
None of that stops me from continuing to lean in, and it seems the same can be said for Key.
Crack.
I only have a second to register the beam from the floor above splitting away from the rest, only a single moment to predict where it will land before I roughly shove Key out of the way. She winds up with her back pressed to the wall just as the beam crashes against my back, and I grunt and tense as it rolls away, already assessing her.
“Are you okay?”
Her lips are parted in surprise, her chest heaving. “You saved me again.”
“Aye.” I realize my hands are braced on either side of her head, our bodies only a hair’s breadth apart. “Seems now you owe me again.”
I can make out her pulse fluttering at her throat, and her pink tongue swipes across her lower lip, and her eyes—those eyes are utterly bewitching —and I do the last thing I should, most likely.
I crash my mouth against hers.