Chapter 4 #4
I guess he’s not chuffed that I got out of the dungeons, Lucy thought, internally bracing herself. “Got a minute to chat?”
He inspected her for a long moment, his gaze lingering with interest on her breasts and hips—too much interest. “What do you want now, wench? Food?”
He leered a little too obviously to make it convincing; he only seemed like he was spoofing himself.
Funny that he didn’t ask how she’d escaped—as if he’d been expecting she would.
She thought of Beinn’s obviously fake scar, and how nearly everyone had been threatening but no one had actually laid a finger on her.
How much longer should she play along with this silly scam?
“I’ve eaten, thanks. Since I’m your guest, you could provide me with some hot water, soap, and clean clothing,” Lucy said as politely as she could.
“A room instead of a cage, and a bed that isn’t dirty straw to sleep on would be brilliant, too.
” She leaned over to peer through the gap in the curtain.
Behind it he’d been sitting on the oversize chair, which had a giant silver goblet and a corked jug on a table in front of it.
“Unless you’re too busy getting pissed, of course.
If that’s the case, could that seneschal bloke help me out?
” She gestured back vaguely in Sgathan’s direction.
Low laughter swept through the hall until the MacRune glared past Lucy’s shoulder. Suddenly all the men fell silent and herded around the tables, sitting down to eat.
The laird grabbed hold of her wrist and hauled her to the other side of the curtain, where he dragged her behind the big throne-like chair and through another, smaller arch.
That led to what appeared to be a room with hand-drawn maps covering the walls and tables.
Fascinating amber and blue glass globes floated around like soap bubbles, casting pools of light over the floor and tables.
One enormous chair sat by the banked hearth that was about the right size for the laird.
The MacRune jerked a heavy wooden hatch to one side, covering the opening to the arch, and dropped an odd-looking latch made of black stone.
A brief shimmer of violet-copper light dazzled her eyes, suggesting he’d used some sort of power to seal her in with him.
Is he using magic, too? Why does he want to be alone with me?
She would have asked, but she hardly had time to blink before the laird strode to her, clamped his hands on her waist and jerked her up off her feet. With three strides he carried her to the nearest wall.
“None trifle with the MacRune.” Pinning her against the cold stone with her feet dangling above the floor, he said, “You’re a woman. A prisoner. I rule here. You dinnae question me.”
His dark brown eyes flashed gold again. Since there was no sunlight, and his back was to the torches, the effect was coming from inside him. After sunset his eyes would turn completely gold again; she’d bet money on it. She should be terrified right now, but that wasn’t what she was experiencing.
His hands made her skin heat where he held her, and strange sensations crept down into her thighs.
She wanted to curl her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his waist while she rubbed her hot face in his inky black hair.
The most astonishing aspect of her reaction to the laird manhandling her was the desire building inside her.
Was she sick? Had Ronan put drugs in the claret?
Suddenly Lucy didn’t care. She’d been unceremoniously dumped in this world, scared half to death by that evil queen, thrown in a dungeon and coshed on the head. Now these men were trying to scare her out of her wits. None of this made any sense to her, but whatever the reason she was done with it.
Time to grow a spine.
“Why can’t I ask some questions? Scared you’ll get the answers wrong?” The smell of him was flooding her head like a shot of French brandy, making it harder to keep the anger off her face. “And just so we’re clear, you don’t rule over me.”
Even as she said that she knew the last thing she needed was to mess around with this oversize raging lout. She also didn’t care. What was happening in this moment was completely beyond any reaction she’d ever had to a man.
“’Tis pointless, prodding my temper.” Tair let her down, sliding his hands to manacle her wrists with his fingers. “I dinnae beat females.”
“No, you just have your head bully drag them into a locked room and terrify them.” She met his gaze steadily until he let her go and walked away.
She thought he might stomp back out into the hall, and she hadn’t yet told him about her morning.
“There’s something you should know. This morning I woke up covered in a blanket before I broke out of my cage. ”
He shrugged and tossed more wood in the hearth. “One of my men took pity on you.”
“Do you keep a big supply of pretty light pink blankets embroidered with diamonds?” As he turned his head to stare at her she sighed. “I’m fairly certain it was the cluet, as the fabric turned black as soon as I shoved it off me, and then it just disappeared like a mist.”
Tair straightened, looked at her, and then muttered a lot of vile-sounding words in Gaelic .
“Sorry I didn’t grab it in time, but it’s what the evil queen wants, right?
And it’s definitely here.” She waited for him to reply, and when he didn’t she added, “We find it, get her to keep her promise, hand it over to her, and we’re saved.
She’ll never again threaten to destroy us or our world again. ”
The laird regarded her as if she’d asked him to perform a striptease for her. “Why should you help me and mine? I had you locked away.”
“Obviously I’m not doing it for you. I’m one of the mortals she’s going to destroy along with the rest of the world, so I have plenty of motivation.
Maybe it has something to do with why the cluet brought me here.
There was something about a wish.” So much had happened she really couldn’t remember it all now.
“Or maybe the wretched thing just fancies me. I’m a likeable girl. ”
Tair went back to swearing.
Lucy made a frustrated gesture. “I’m on your side, Laird. Instead of treating me like an enemy, why don’t you quit effing and blinding, and join me?”
In a blink he was right in front of her. “’Tis what you desire?”
“Of course I–” She never got the rest of that out, as Tair pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his.
Lucy made a muffled sound of protest, but then he put his tongue in her mouth and made her heart stutter in her chest. To put an end to it she bit his bottom lip—a little too hard, judging by the metallic taste in her mouth.
“Och.” The laird lifted his head, his eyes ablaze with heat, and then bent again to lick his blood from her lips. “Again.”
He wanted her to bite him? “You’re mad.”
“I’m half dark Fae. ’Tis almost the same.” He nuzzled the side of her throat before he murmured against her ear, “Either you’re my lover, or my enemy. Decide.”
He’d completely misinterpreted what she’d said, Lucy thought, and then her brain seemed to shut down.
Later she’d try and figure out why she had completely lost her mind.
Maybe it was the slide of his mouth on her skin, or the rumble of his demanding voice.
The smell of him, all dark cool waters dappled with starlight, made her want to fill herself with it.
The whole package of the MacRune—too big, too dark, too angry—should have turned her off. Why was it doing the exact opposite?
Because he’s a man who doesn’t care what I think of him. A law unto himself. A renegade.
Whatever made her go crazy was enough to turn her head so she could brush her lips against his. That set off whatever dark beast he’d locked up inside him.
Tair said something that sounded like “Lover, then,” against her mouth.