Chapter 17
17
Keyanna
The surprise that courses through me lasts all of three seconds. Three fucking seconds of What the hell? before my body catches up to the situation and has a team meeting with my brain to decide that, yes, we are absolutely on board with Lachlan kissing us senseless.
I feel his hands lift from their place on the stone on either side of my head, his palms finding my cheeks to hold my face as his lips move against mine with an intensity that steals my breath. It’s like every second of the frustration I’ve felt since meeting him has suddenly morphed into this all-consuming want that has me grasping at his sweater to pull him closer, has me tilting up my face to seek more.
“Key,” he breathes roughly against my mouth. “Is this all right?”
“Don’t stop,” I manage, my voice sounding all wrong.
He groans, a sound that I feel down in my toes, and then his fingers are in my hair, tugging gently enough not to hurt but with just enough pressure that I feel it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been kissed like this; the last year hasn’t really been a great time to date, after all, but honestly, I’m not sure that I’ve ever been kissed like this.
Lachlan kisses like he’s trying to consume me; his teeth nip at my bottom lip just before his tongue teases the same spot, and then he’s urging me to open for him, something I’m all too happy to do. His tongue touches mine, warm and wet and seeking—the act of it so desperate, it feels a bit like sex. Like his tongue is fucking my mouth, claiming it, eradicating every other kiss that came before it.
“S’not fair,” he rumbles against my lips just before his tongue dips back inside.
I suck in a breath, my lids heavy and my limbs feeling like Jell-O. “What’s not?”
One of his hands slips from my hair down to my throat, his palm so wide that it covers the entire expanse of my neck, his thumb sweeping back and forth across my pulse. I can feel the way it pounds under his touch, but I’m still dizzy with the way his tongue slides against mine, the way his knee creeps up between my legs to hold me steady, offering a delicious pressure that makes me want to rock back and forth.
“S’not fair that you’re so goddamned beautiful,” he rasps.
A sound escapes me that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and I do feel my hips tilting as if they have a mind of their own, the friction of my pussy against his thigh eliciting a shower of sparks between my legs even through my clothes.
I’ve never felt a need like this; I think if he asked me to lie down on the dirty stone right now, I absolutely would. Every moment he’s been insufferable, or annoying, or a downright asshole—now it feels like they were just tiny pieces of kindling. Stacked over one another again and again until one tiny spark set it all ablaze. And now I’m fucking burning.
“Lachlan,” I whine, shifting my hips again.
His lips tease the corner of my mouth, drifting down my jaw before he leaves a sucking kiss just below it. “Feels good?”
“Mhm.”
His hand finds my waist, the other still tangled in my hair, and then I feel him tug at my hips, forcing me to rock back and forth. “So lovely like this,” he murmurs. “All flushed and pink from my kisses.”
“Is this insane?”
“Mm.” I feel the wet heat of his tongue against my throbbing pulse. “I reckon you’ve done nothing but make me insane since the moment I met you.”
I gasp when I feel his teeth scrape along my skin. “Not exactly a glowing endorsement.”
“I told you,” he says, his deep brogue heavier and his voice sounding gravelly. “I don’t lose control.” His lips skirt along my throat until he can kiss the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “But you make me fucking want to.”
“I don’t mind,” I assure him, curling my hands up under his shoulders to hold him closer. My lashes flutter open, finding his heavy-lidded gaze on me. My mouth parts in surprise. “Your eyes.”
They’re glowing faintly—the usual clear blue seeming to burn with some inner source of light. The colors dance and swirl in a way that feels like blue flames, and I can’t seem to look away, utterly hypnotized. I almost imagine a sharp prick against my throat, my scalp, but I’m too mesmerized by the way Lachlan bites his lip as he stares hungrily at my mouth.
I don’t feel fear, just that all-encompassing want that’s overriding my ability to think, and I lean in, ready to beg for more—for anything he’ll give me, really—and I’m opening my mouth to tell him that. To tell him he can do anything. That he can have anything. That he can—
Crack.
We both startle as another plank from the floor above crashes against the old bed, Lachlan tugging me closer to shield me with his body. I can feel how fast his chest rises and falls with each breath when he crushes my face there, and I can feel the rapid beating of his heart even through the layers of his sweater and the shirt beneath. It makes me smile softly against the warm fabric, knowing he’s just as affected as I am.
“Maybe this isn’t the right place to be doing this,” I say into his sweater.
I feel his chest move as he chuffs. “Perhaps not.”
I pull away as he looks down at me, and I notice that the glow from moments ago has left his eyes, leaving the usual light blue behind. Still beautiful, but definitely less arresting.
“I…”
His eyes search my face as if he’s trying to think of some way to explain what just happened, looking like he doesn’t quite understand himself. Not that I can blame him. Yesterday, I was pretty sure I wanted to trip him with a large branch. Today…Well. Right now I’m just thinking about the way his mouth tastes.
“I know,” I say, saving him. “That was…something.”
“Mm.” He grins wickedly, leaning down to brush his lips against mine in a barely there kiss. “If I’d known this was the way to make you more agreeable, I might have done it sooner.”
I smack his chest, rolling my eyes. “Ass.”
“You didn’t think that would change because of a few kisses, did you?”
His voice is teasing, and it’s that fact alone that has me chuckling instead of kicking him in the shins. It’s an awkward affair as he starts to untangle himself from me, and I swear, part of me is incredibly disappointed with the sudden distance. Part of me wants to yank him back and demand he kiss me again like he just did.
But this really isn’t the right place for it.
Lachlan clears his throat, his fists clenching at his side as he pointedly looks away from me. “How do we get out of here? Should I give you a boost?”
“Yeah, you might have to,” I tell him, looking around.
I’m not thrilled at the idea; with my luck, the rest of the floor will give way as soon as I grip the edge of the hole to pull myself out, but I don’t see any other options, considering that this room seems to have no exit.
My brow furrows.
That doesn’t make sense…Does it?
I remember what I saw upstairs that led to me falling down here in the first place—a groove of sorts in the wall that, while inconspicuous, didn’t seem…quite right. With that in mind, I turn toward the wall behind us, running my hands over the stone in a wide arc.
“What are you doing?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure. It just feels…off.”
“Off?”
“Yeah. I can’t explain it. It’s like…”
I frown, my hands stilling. Now that my heart rate has slowed and my mind isn’t one big chant of Lachlan Lachlan Lachlan —I can feel bits of the energy that had surrounded me while we assessed the carvings on the wall. The carvings left by my magic ancestor , no less.
It’s like…a presence, almost. A heaviness in the air. A whisper of… something that’s urging me to do…something.
Honestly, this magic business sort of sucks ass so far.
Still, I follow the urge, grasping at the thin thread of an idea as I continue to search the wall. When my fingers skirt over deeper grooves in the stone, they seem to take a familiar shape.
“Lachlan,” I call. “I think there might be a door here.”
“Maybe you are a bloody hound,” Lachlan mutters, coming up behind me.
I probably shouldn’t laugh at that, but one tumbles out of me anyway. I shove my shoulder against the wall and push, but absolutely nothing happens.
“Guess it was a long shot,” I mumble. I glance at Lachlan over my shoulder. “Can you…?”
“Yeah. Stand back.”
He flattens himself against the wall, clenching his jaw as he starts to push. The tendons in his neck pop out when he shoves on the old stone with all his strength, and after a moment, there are creaking sounds from the other side before a whoosh of air—and then the wall swings open.
“Seems you’re good for something too,” I laugh.
He rolls his eyes, something I can make out even in the thin light. He bends at the waist when the hidden door widens to a large enough crack to slip through, gesturing out an arm.
“After you, Your Highness.”
Yep, that’s still kind of annoying.
There is a staircase on the other side of the door, narrow and curved as it moves upward, and as I step through the stone that hid the opening, I notice rusted, broken chains on the ground that are still looped through thick hooks embedded in the other side of the door.
I bend, picking up a thick iron lock, rubbing my thumb across the keyhole.
“He really didn’t want her to get out,” I note.
“Aye,” Lachlan says. “Seems that way.” I feel him bend beside me, crouching. “Look.” He points at the broken chain, noting the link that’s pulled apart. “The rust on this link is auld. Hasn’t been disturbed.”
“So?”
“So this chain was broken centuries ago.”
“So…he really did help her escape. My ancestor.”
He stares at the broken link for several seconds. “They say he fell in love with her while she was a prisoner. That he stole back her bridle and used it to set her free.”
If it weren’t for all the cursing business, I might almost say that was romantic. I don’t think Lachlan would agree, so I keep the thought to myself. I’m quiet as he continues to stare at the chain for another long moment, watching as he finally shakes his head and drops it to the ground.
“We should get out of here,” he says. “If we want to make it back before sundown.”
“Oh. Right.”
He brushes past me to climb the stairs, and I hurry to follow, watching as he reaches the landing and tugs on a thick iron handle that is embedded into the wall. I can hear the groaning of some mechanism on the other side, a clank clank sound of gears grinding before the door opens and reveals the room I’d fallen through with the beautiful window.
Lachlan helps me around the yawning hole with my hand in his, and I try not to think about his hands on other parts of my body as I carefully step across the rotten wood planks to more stable footing in the center of the room. I watch as Lachlan eyes the window, and then the door, and then the hole—shaking his head incredulously all the while.
“I can’t believe this was here the entire time.”
“To be fair,” I tell him, “it was really well hidden.”
“But…if I’d found it sooner…”
“Then what? We didn’t find anything down there but a rusted bed and some old carvings.”
He scrubs his hand down his face. “I don’t know. Maybe it would have meant something to my da. Maybe he could have—”
“Lachlan.” I step closer, lifting my hand to cup his cheek so I can force him to look at me. “There was nothing you could have done differently. You were just a kid, remember?”
He stares at me for a long moment, his bright blue eyes duller somehow. “Aye,” he answers quietly. “S’pose you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” I say, trying to sound lighter as I give his cheek a pat. “Now come on, Nessie. We have to get you back to the loch before you go full dinosaur right here in this castle.”
He snorts under his breath even as he turns to follow me when I move for the door. “Anything you say, princess.”
I grin. Okay, maybe it’s not as annoying as I thought.
The sun is getting low when we arrive at the farm—Lachlan walking me back to the barn before stopping. The loch is in the other direction, so I know it would be silly for him to walk me all the way to the farmhouse only to turn around and head a different way.
For a moment we’re just standing there awkwardly, and I know that we’re both thinking about what happened down in that room. We didn’t really talk about it on the hike back; honestly, we didn’t talk about much of anything —Lachlan was lost in his thoughts, and I was content to let him process things. But now it’s impossible to avoid, a thick tension caught between us that refuses to be overlooked.
“I’m sorry that we didn’t find more,” I say finally, not knowing what else I can offer him.
He shakes his head. “I told you we wouldn’t find anything. So what we found already proved me wrong.”
“Right,” I say, chuckling softly. “Bet that was hard for you to admit.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Like pulling teeth.”
There’s another stretch of silence, during which Lachlan’s features morph into an expression of deep thought, his eyes averting to the ground as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Almost like he’s nervous, which seems unlike him.
“Key, about what happened…”
“Yeah?”
It’s embarrassing how eagerly I press for more, but I can’t help it.
The thin line his lips make immediately puts me on edge. “Look,” he starts, and I bristle because when is that ever good news? “I’ve been thinking…I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Not a good idea,” I parrot, feeling my stomach twist. “What do you mean?”
Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment…or maybe I just want to hear him say it.
He gestures vaguely between the two of us, still not looking at me. “This. Us. Whatever that was…It can only make things complicated. Nothing good will come of it.”
“Oh.”
He takes a deep breath, blowing it out. “There’s nothing certain about my future, Keyanna. We know that. I don’t know how much time I have before…”
Part of me aches for him in a way that doesn’t involve wanting him to touch me again, but I can’t pretend that disappointment isn’t there too.
“I see,” I say woodenly.
“Don’t,” he sighs. “Don’t act like that.”
“Act like what?”
“Don’t act like I’m rejecting you.”
“Aren’t you?”
He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “I’m trying to do the right thing!”
“Or the easy thing,” I counter.
“That’s not bloody fair,” he growls. “You know I’m right. If you and I get involved…what then? What happens when there’s no end to this damned curse, and I end up a monster forever?”
“That won’t happen; we can—”
“You don’t know that, Key,” he half shouts. “You don’t. Neither of us do. Besides, what if I hurt you?”
“You wouldn’t,” I answer immediately.
“Not on purpose,” he scoffs. “I’m sure my da never meant to hurt my mum, but he couldn’t control it. What happens when I can’t control it either?”
I notice the panic in his eyes, the real fear in them that tells me he’s been obsessing over this the entire trek back—no doubt working himself up into a frenzy about possibilities that might never even happen. Maybe I should be more afraid. Maybe I should consider what he’s saying, but I can’t help it. Something inside me just knows he wouldn’t allow himself to hurt me. I don’t know how I know, but I do.
I square my shoulders, jutting out my chin. “What if I said that I think you’re worth the risk?”
“You barely tolerated me a few days ago,” he points out.
I frown. “I didn’t? Did I really hate you, or was I just trying to pretend I didn’t want you as badly as I did?”
Because I suspect the latter is closer to the truth, analyzing it now. Lachlan has possessed my thoughts for weeks—even when I didn’t want him to. Even when I was telling myself I couldn’t stand him…I couldn’t get him out of my head. That has to mean something.
His eyes soften a bit, his shoulders slumping as he studies my face, looking…tired, mostly.
“It’s not for you to decide,” he tells me softly. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to let you take.”
I narrow my eyes, disappointment flooding me like hard water, filling me to the brim until I feel heavy with it.
“Okay,” I say after a beat. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s how it has to be.”
I stare at him for another moment, finally shaking my head. “Fine.” I take a step closer, pointing a finger at him. “But you’re the one who’s afraid here. Not me.”
He laughs, but there’s no real humor in it. “I’m starting to think you’re not afraid of anything, Key.”
I have to shove down the elation his praise brings; that’s not what he wants, clearly. And can I even be mad at him? This is his life. I can’t hold him to the flimsy promise of one kiss. It wouldn’t be fair. No matter how wrong it feels.
“I’ll keep looking,” I tell him instead. “Quietly.”
He nods. “I appreciate it.”
That’s how I leave him, stomping off toward the farmhouse without looking back. No matter how badly I want to. I feel unsettled by the entire encounter, and my distracted state means I don’t notice a body blocking the path to the stairs inside the house, and I barrel into it with an oomph before hands curl around my shoulders to steady me.
“Key?” Brodie takes in my frazzled state with a furrowed brow. “You all right?”
It takes me a second to catch up with my brain still sizzling with irritation, but after a few seconds of staring at my cousin dumbly, I manage to answer. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine. Just had a weird day.”
“You want to talk about it?”
He looks sincere, concerned even—his green eyes emanating a soothing energy that makes me wonder why the twins seem to think he’s such a numpty , as they put it. He’s been nothing but nice to me. Still, I know I can’t start spilling my guts about everything I’ve learned this week. It’s not exactly my story to tell.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him instead. “Really. Just a silly argument.”
“Rhona says anything can be fixed with a good cup of tea,” he informs me with a soft smile. He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Now, the jury is still out on whether or not I can manage a good cup of tea, but since she and Finlay have already gone off to bed, I reckon between the two of us, we can whip up something decent.”
I chuckle, letting some of the tension unwind from inside me. “Tea sounds great, actually.”
“Well, come on into the kitchen, and let’s see what we can find.”
Brodie hums as he riffles through the cabinets in search of honey, and I watch him work from my seat at the table, holding my cup.
“Know it’s here somewhere,” he mutters.
“It’s really okay,” I assure him. “This is fine as is.”
He peeks at me from over his shoulder. “You sure?”
“Positive.” I gesture to the chair opposite me. “Come sit before yours gets cold.”
Brodie sinks down into the chair with a sigh, stretching out his legs and reaching for his cup before blowing on the steaming liquid. I notice that he looks pretty weary himself, and I lean to prop my chin against my fist.
“Seems like I’m not the only one who had a long day.”
“Hm?” He meets my gaze, blinks, then waves me off. “Och. Nothing too bad. Got caught in the rain out on the property. Had to huddle in one of the auld outbuildings until it passed. Not exactly a comfortable stay.”
My mind wanders to sitting on a patch of hay with a particularly infuriating but handsome Scotsman, and I have to shake away the thought, determined not to go there.
“Were you working with the animals?”
He takes a slow sip from his cup, making a satisfied sound afterward. “Not today. I’ve been indulging in a wee side project of sorts lately.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
He eyes me with a somewhat sheepish expression, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say. “Something like a genealogical report. Been visiting the family cemetery. Tracing back our family tree.”
“Isn’t that kind of what you do for a living?”
He glances away, the tips of his ears heating to a shade not totally unlike his hair. “I know it’s silly,” he says. “Given that I’m supposed to be on sabbatical.”
“I don’t think it’s silly,” I chuckle, testing my own tea and taking a slow taste when I find it no longer scalding. “I mean, you obviously enjoy it.”
“I do,” he says with a small smile. “Even if my da doesn’t approve.”
I frown. “I still think keeping track of all that history is a hell of a lot more interesting than fishing. No offense.”
“None taken,” he laughs. “Obviously, I agree. It’s just…I’m the youngest, aye? I never stood a chance of taking over his business. That was always going to be my eldest brother. The most I could hope for is a life of being pushed around by him as an adult as much as I was as a lad. To be fair, he wasn’t the only one.”
“Your brothers picked on you?”
“Ah, well, I was a wee thing. Didn’t quite grow into my limbs until high school. Easy target and all that.”
“They sound like jerks,” I scoff.
He laughs harder, his eyes crinkling. “They definitely can be.”
“Do you like it better here? With Rhona?”
He shrugs. “Rhona has always been good to me. Honestly, I think she liked having me around because it reminded her of—”
His mouth snaps shut, his eyes rounding as he realizes what he’s almost just said, and I feel a clenching in my chest.
“My dad,” I finish for him. “Right?”
He nods slowly. “It’s not something she ever said. Just a suspicion of mine.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I could see that.”
He regards me thoughtfully for a moment, turning his cup this way and that. “It must be difficult,” he muses. “Being here.”
“It was,” I tell him honestly. “At first. Lately…it’s been a little better.”
Because I’ve been too distracted by loch monsters and hot farmhands to have time to be sad , I don’t say.
“I noticed you went off with Lachlan today,” he offers, not sounding judgmental, merely curious. “Sort of thought you two didn’t get on.”
“We didn’t,” I say, chewing at the inside of my lip. “Not until recently. I mean, he’s not as big of a dick as I thought he was when I first met him.”
Don’t think about his dick, for Christ’s sake.
“Be careful with that one,” Brodie says.
“You don’t like him, I’ve gathered.”
He shrugs. “Don’t care much about him either way. He was always the popular one when we were lads. We didn’t mesh. His da and mine were friends, though. Made for a lot of awkward forced playdates that were mostly just him and his friends ignoring me while I read somewhere quiet.”
“He didn’t…bully you or anything, did he?”
Brodie shakes his head. “Nothing so much as that. He wasn’t really anything to me. I think my da only wanted me to get on with him in the hopes I might turn out a bit tougher.” His mouth turns down, a wrinkle forming in his brow. “I think my da would have loved to swap sons if he’d been able to.”
“That’s horrible.”
He shrugs again. “It is what it is. S’pose that’s why it’s hard for me not to bristle around the man. Doesn’t help that he’s so…standoffish.”
I snort. “You mean an asshole.”
“You said it,” he chuckles.
“He really can be,” I say. “But…I don’t know. He’s not all bad, I guess.”
Brodie’s grin turns sly. “Does Key have a wee bit of a crush on the farmhand?”
“What? No!”
Even as I say it, I can feel my cheeks heating, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine, the press of his body against my own. I have to quickly bring my cup to my mouth to hide what must surely be a guilty expression.
I huff after I’ve set it back on the table, scowling at my cousin. “Don’t say anything to Rhona. The last thing I need is for her to think I’m only here to chase after a guy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, still grinning.
I toy with my cup as my thoughts drift exactly where I keep trying to pull them back from, remembering what Lachlan said.
It’s not for you to decide. It’s not a risk I’m willing to let you take.
The memory of the defeat in his tone and on his face threatens to gut me, and I desperately wish that I could do more. To help alleviate some of his burden. Which seems fairly ridiculous, given that I barely know him and it was little more than a week ago that I thought I couldn’t stand him.
I flick up my gaze to watch as Brodie takes another sip from his cup, letting words roll around on my tongue as I try to decide the best way to let them out.
“So, your job,” I try, keeping my voice casual. “You never did tell me if you had insider info on the Loch Ness Monster.”
His brow arches. “You’re still on about that?”
“Well, I mean…you know the stories about my dad. I can’t help but be curious.”
“I think if the beast existed,” Brodie says, “we would have more than some grainy pictures by now.”
“So you’ve never seen anything about it in, like…I don’t know. Old family documents?”
He cocks his head. “Family documents?”
I consider how to continue carefully, not wanting to give too much away.
“You know…I mean. If the monster did exist, there would have to be recordings of the sightings, right? What about the Greer history? Didn’t they own this whole area once upon a time?”
“Aye, they did,” he says with a confused expression. “But most of their family records burnt up in a fire that caught on the main building back in the eighteen hundreds.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Lachlan didn’t tell you?”
“It…hasn’t come up.”
Too busy trying to stick your tongue down his throat to ask the pertinent questions.
“Aye, it burned half the building down. Lost a lot of records that year.”
“Huh.” I toy with the handle of my cup absently. “That must suck for Lachlan.”
It also explains why he still has so little to go on after all this time.
“I imagine,” Brodie says with sympathy in his tone. “I actually oversaw the reconstruction of that wing some time back,” he says. “There hadn’t been funds to do anything with it before then, so it was mostly empty and half destroyed up until that point. It’s right as rain now.”
“That must have been interesting,” I say. “Find anything cool?”
He blinks back at me, sputtering a bit when his tea seems to go down the wrong way. He beats his chest and coughs to try and right himself, finally shaking his head. “Nothing but some burnt-up documents and smoke-damaged books.”
“Oh…That’s too bad.”
“Aye,” he sighs. “Always hate to see history lost that way. Makes it too easy for people to try to fill in the blanks with nonsense.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” I say with a small laugh.
Brodie checks the clock on the wall, frowning at the time. “Och, I’d better get off to bed. Early day tomorrow.”
“More work for your side project?”
He looks sheepish again. “I know how silly it is.”
“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” I say. “Hell, I’m basically here for the same reasons. Maybe we can compare notes sometime.”
Brodie beams at me. “Aye, maybe we can.”
He bids me good night then, and I think to myself that it seems a lot of people in town might have misjudged him. He’s actually very easy to like once you give him the chance. I certainly felt a bit better chatting with him than I did when I stomped into the house.
I scowl. Just the memory of Lachlan’s rejection makes my chest sting, creeping back in through the warmth of the tea and leaving me cold and bitter. I try to remind myself again that it’s not fair to hold him to any promises, because he certainly didn’t make any. Not that it makes me feel any better.
I carry my irritation throughout the process of washing my cup, then up the stairs toward the small bathroom across from my room as I brush my teeth. I stare in the mirror as I work the brush, cataloging the tiny, fading marks on my throat left by Lachlan’s teeth that are hidden by my hair. I can tell they won’t be there tomorrow, and the thought of that makes me feel even lower than I already do.
I want Lachlan .
The realization hits me harder than it should, because you would think it would be obvious, given how hungrily I’d kissed him earlier, how disappointed I’d been when he suddenly declared we wouldn’t be doing it again—but it isn’t until this very moment that the extent of how much I want him makes itself known.
I want to help him. I want him to have a better life than the Greers before him. I want to kiss him again, and laugh with him, and find out what more there is to the man underneath the shadow of a monster he desperately wants to escape. Once I get the thought in my head, it burrows deep, refusing to be dug out.
Even lying in my bed later, waiting for sleep I fear won’t come, I’m still thinking about him. About the absurdity that Lachlan, the man afflicted with a centuries-old curse that could literally steal his life away, would take it upon himself to protect me . As if I’m the one who needs saving.
And when sleep finally takes me…I find that I’m angry as hell about it.