31 TROUBLE
LYING BY THE fire, the weight of his cloak covering him and Ailsa, Darach considered what he’d just done.
It might have been his stupidest act ever.
Fucking her changed things.
He’d always told himself he was a man in control of his urges, but tonight had shown him he wasn’t. All it had taken was a few hot kisses and Ailsa’s whispered request, and all good sense had abandoned him.
He hadn’t forced anything—she’d wanted it as much as he had—but that didn’t absolve him of responsibility.
His breathing grew shallow then. He’d meant to go slow with her, but she’d turned into a wild thing.
And then, he’d matched her. In the midst of it all, the beast had stirred, had fought to get out.
Thanks to Ailsa’s binding tattoo, he could control it, yet his mouth had started to ache, and he’d felt his canines grow.
Even now, his gums were sensitive. He ran his tongue over one canine. It was still sharper than it should be.
Ailsa had seen his fangs too, yet she hadn’t recoiled. Instead, she’d shivered with delight as he’d gently dragged them over her naked breasts.
The clag-doo was growling softly in the back of his mind now.
Sated yet at the same time thwarted.
Ailsa stirred against him then, her rounded, firm arse nestling into his groin. He bit back a groan. This woman.
He hadn’t lied; he’d never bedded a virgin before. Such lasses weren’t meant for men like him.
But being Ailsa’s first was significant, and in the aftermath, he felt like a bastard.
“Cold?” he asked then. The air was bone-chillingly damp after the rain.
“No,” she replied sleepily.
“Good.” He paused then. “Ailsa.”
“Mm.”
“When you asked me to pin your wrists earlier … you were afraid, weren’t you?” He’d seen the way her gaze had dropped to his throat, and the panic that had flared in her eyes. “Of your … impulses.”
Her revelation was still fresh in his mind. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.
Her lithe body stiffened against him before she eventually whispered, “Aye.”
He didn’t answer, although needles danced across his skin. Had she truly wanted to cut his throat and drink from him?
Aye, and the beast had wanted to fuck her as much as he had.
If he’d let it, the clag-doo would have torn her to pieces afterward.
Darach’s gut clenched at the thought.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice lowered further.
He tightened his hold on her. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he answered. “I took you roughly.”
“Aye.” She wriggled out of his grip and twisted around to face him. The fire was still burning brightly. After he’d taken her, he’d thrown some more wood on. Ruddy light gilded her pale skin, making the inky depths of her eyes look bottomless. “And that’s exactly what I wanted.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and curse him, his prick was already stiffening again.
He’d never met a woman like her. His breathing quickened then. A soft growl reverberated in his ears as the beast stirred.
He should have kept his hands to himself. He knew better.
But one night with Ailsa, and all that discipline had gone to shit.
Darach was used to being in control. After a tumble in the furs, he preferred to distance himself from his lover, but how could he, after what they’d just done?
He lifted his hand then, cupping her pale cheek, his thumb tracing the swell of her lower lip. “You, Ailsa” —he paused then, searching for the right words— “are trouble.”
A line appeared between her eyebrows. “Trouble?”
“Aye … the kind that complicates a man’s life.”
Her gaze guttered slightly, and self-recrimination struck him like an arrow in the ribs. Their relationship, this forced intimacy, was turning him into an arse.
He didn’t like hurting her, and the thought of walking away from her left a sour taste in his mouth.
He caught himself then.
What was he doing? He knew this job would end.
They’d rescue Kayla, and she would heal him. Then, Ailsa would hand over the last of the coin she’d promised, and they’d all go their own ways. It was what they’d agreed.
No looking back. Nothing was more important than his reckoning with Niall.
Best he remembered that.
This fey young woman who made him sweat wasn’t part of his plans.
Ailsa stifled a yawn as she kicked dirt over the fire.
She needed to wake up. Kayla was so close, she could almost reach out and touch her.
They’d risen just as the first glimmers of dawn lightened the eastern horizon. They had to get moving. Nonetheless, she lingered for a moment, her gaze lifting to where the skeleton limbs of the trees and the jagged silhouette of the surrounding mountains were etched against an indigo sky.
Her lips then curved. The Uplands were far bleaker than The Wolds, and yet they held such majesty. She’d always wanted to see The Goatfells, and now she had.
Shifting her gaze from the sky, she turned to where her bodyguard was saddling Rùn.
She and Darach had slept little overnight, just a short doze. Finishing his tattoo had taken a while, and what followed afterward had drawn them deep into the night, especially since he’d taken her again.
Twice more, in fact.
On both occasions, she’d bid him to restrain her wrists as he plowed her senseless.
She was bone-weary in the aftermath, and the skin between her thighs was tender, yet the world looked different in the misty sunrise.
She was different.
As for Darach, it was difficult to know.
They’d talked after the first time, but she’d marked the way his gaze shadowed. His words.
You’re trouble … the kind that complicates a man’s life.
Ailsa continued to observe him. Was she imagining it, or was he making a point of not glancing her way?
She didn’t regret what they’d done, but did he?
She hadn’t failed to notice either that he hadn’t tried to kiss her since they’d gotten up and dressed. The tenderness of the night before had dissipated like morning mist.
A raven croaked then, and she looked up, spying the bird on the branch of a twisted oak. A huge raven with glossy black feathers.
Ailsa froze. “Our friend’s back,” she murmured.
Darach turned, his brow furrowing. He then glanced around, his hand straying to the hilt of the dagger at his thigh. “That means Fern’s nearby.”
Ailsa frowned. He was right. The way this bird had flown off after the Shee huntress had made it look as if it was her companion.
She glanced over at the raven once more.
It stared back, its beady black eyes giving her nothing.
And then, with a loud caw, it flew from its perch, winging into the murky dawn.
She watched it fly away before looking back at Darach. “What now?”
She’d expected his gaze to be following the raven too, yet it wasn’t. He was staring at her, his expression veiled. However, the moment she looked his way, he swiveled to Rùn once more. “We stay focused.”
Ailsa didn’t ask anything else. Instead, her attention flicked north to where the raven had flown off.
The morning was cold and still, almost breathless, with a colorless sky above.
Their campsite was a bleak spot indeed, surrounded by naked trees, their twisted branches frosted with pale green lichen.
However, she suddenly didn’t want to leave this sheltered corrie, as if by moving on she’d be leaving something precious behind her.
Last night had felt like something was beginning, yet in the cold light of dawn, it was as if it was already over. Her chest tightened. Maybe one night was all she and Darach were ever going to have.
He swung up onto the saddle then. “Let’s get going.”
She marked the reserve in his tawny gaze, the brisk edge to his voice. The rigid set of his shoulders reminded her of their first days on the road, and her stomach sank.
Wordlessly, Ailsa sprang up behind him, the movement light and practiced after so long on the road together. She settled herself astride Rùn, wrapping her arms around Darach’s waist.
They’d ridden like this for days now, but today, everything had shifted. His back was warm against her, yet she could almost taste his tension.
Of course, things would be different this morning; they now knew what each other looked like naked.
She knew how he’d felt buried to the hilt inside her.
How his mouth had tasted. How his hands had felt on her body.
Those things couldn’t be undone, and whatever came now, she was glad she’d given herself to him.
She’d told him the truth about herself, and he hadn’t shrunk from her. He made her feel wanted and seen. With him, she’d discovered toe-curling pleasure as well as exhilarating freedom.
The hollow place she’d carried since leaving Braewall wasn’t gone.
However, it wasn’t clawing at her this morning.
Upon setting out after Kayla, she’d initially panicked.
The freedom she’d once craved had lost its appeal, and all she’d wanted was to go home.
But up here in The Uplands with Darach, her perspective changed once more.
Last night, for the first time in her life, she’d felt as if she truly belonged.
They picked their way out of the corrie, finding a rocky path and riding farther into The Goatfells. Ahead, the sky grew darker. The air grew dank with cold.
“Snow’s coming.” Darach’s voice was quiet, a trifle subdued. “Maybe before nightfall.”
“This early? Mid-Winter Fire is still a turn away.”
“Aye … but the weather is bleaker this far north.”
Her jaw tightened. So, they were talking about the weather now?
Nonetheless, she didn’t like the idea of being caught in a blizzard up here in the mountains—not when they hadn’t found Kayla yet.
Darach drew Rùn up then, next to where a narrow burn cut alongside the path. Dismounting, he crouched down and cast a probing gaze over the ground before testing it with his fingers. “They passed this way … last thing yesterday, I’d wager.”
Ailsa tensed. “What do you think they have planned for Kayla?”
He glanced up, his gaze sharpening.
No longer the wild lover from the night before.
Now he was a tracker and hunter. Distant and detached. A man determined to get a job done, for all their sakes. She’d helped him control the beast under his skin, but he still needed her mentor. Otherwise, the clag-doo would curse him for the rest of his days.
“After seeing that tattooing blade stuck in the warrior’s eye, I’d say they want her skills.” He paused then, his eyebrows drawing together. “And for no good purpose.”