15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Abare bulb burned overhead.
Lachlan sat in the center of the dungeon exactly where Isabeast had left him, his head hanging over his bare chest. The blindfold remained tied around his eyes, and his wrists and ankles were still cuffed to the heavy wooden chair.
His shirt lay in torn pieces on the floor.
I eased the hidden door shut behind me and rounded the chair, gripping the basket in both hands.
From the front, the full extent of the damage came into view. Bruises covered his ribs and stomach. Angry red marks crossed his side, some already darkening at the edges. I didn’t need to identify how Isabeast had made them. I’d heard enough.
The cut on his right cheek had opened again, leaving dried blood along his jaw.
He sat motionless with his pants open, and he was…fully exposed.
I stopped so abruptly that the basket bumped against my leg.
“Lachlan?”
No answer.
I approached slowly, watching his chest until it finally rose. Then I stepped between his knees and set the basket beside the chair.
The breath trapped in my lungs rushed out.
“Thank God. You’re alive.”
My eyes dropped again.
“Oh, wow.”
Heat rushed into my face.
“I came prepared for blood and bruises. I was not prepared for…all of you.”
He didn’t move.
“If you aren’t unconscious, have the decency to keep pretending.”
Still nothing.
Good Lord. Apparently everything about Lachlan Byrnes was excessive.
I pulled the folded towel from the basket and laid it carefully across his lap.
“There. We’ll pretend I didn’t look twice.”
My embarrassment died when I studied the rest of him.
The cuffs had rubbed his wrists raw. Dried blood crusted the places where the metal had cut into him, and his shoulders strained at an unnatural angle after hours with his hands locked behind the chair.
“You were supposed to get me out of here,” I murmured. “I can’t drag a man your size through a drainage channel, so I need you in better condition than this.”
The words sounded selfish the moment they left my mouth.
“I do need you,” I admitted. “But I would’ve come even if I didn’t. What she did to you was vile. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
I rested my hand lightly on his shoulder.
His body stayed still beneath my palm.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come back before she did. I absolutely hated hearing what that monster did to you.”
My voice threatened to break, but I swallowed the emotion.
“For what it’s worth, Isabeast is perfect.
I nearly called her that at dinner, which probably would’ve gotten me killed.
” I couldn’t stop the smile, remembering her sitting across from me at the table.
“Father took one look at her mouth and threw her out before she touched her food. You should’ve heard her trying to defend herself around those stitches. I nearly laughed at her.”
When he didn’t react, I tipped his chin up and examined the cut on his right cheek. Dirt clung near one edge, and the swelling had worsened since morning.
“This may need stitches too, but I’m afraid my skills end somewhere between baking and stealing medical supplies from my own vanity.”
I released his chin, and his head fell forward again. Then I opened the bottle of antiseptic.
The pungent, medicinal smell rose between us.
“Good thing you’re unconscious, because you’d hate me for this.”
I poured a little onto a clean cloth.
“Although you may already hate me. We haven’t established that yet.”
I lifted the damp cloth toward his cheek, then stopped inches from the wound.
“I promise I’m trying to help.”
“You always talk this much when you think a man’s unconscious?”
A yelp ripped out of me. I jerked back hard enough to splash antiseptic over my fingers, my heart hammering against my ribs. Only then did I register how rough his voice was, little more than a scraped-out rasp. After all that silence, it might as well have been a shout.
Lachlan’s head snapped up, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“Your little scream was.”
A rough huff of laughter escaped him, and pain tightened his face.
“Good. You deserve that for frightening me.”
“Aye. Probably,” he rasped. “Anyone see you come down here? You’re taking one hell of a risk.”
The question caught me off guard.
Not whether I had the key. Not whether I’d brought more water. Whether I’d been seen sneaking in here.
Either he meant the concern, or he knew exactly how to make a frightened woman feel safe enough to help him.
I suspected both.
“No one saw me. I waited until the veranda emptied and the lower corridor went quiet.”
“You came through a hidden entrance, right?”
“Yes. Only one person I trust knows it exists.”
“Lover?”
A startled laugh escaped me. “No. He was my mother’s guard until she…”
The words caught in my throat. I wasn’t ready to talk about my mother. Not with him. Not tonight.
Lachlan didn’t pry or offer some meaningless comfort. He simply let me drop it.
I liked him better for it, which was dangerous enough to annoy me.
He drew his next breath too deeply, and his jaw locked, drawing my attention back to the bruises covering his ribs and the reason I’d come down here in the first place.
“And here you are worrying about me when you’re the one chained to a chair and beaten half to death.” I lifted the damp cloth again. “Where does it hurt?”
“Lots of places. Take your pick.”
For a second, I didn’t know what to say. The man had been tortured for hours and answered as casually as if I’d asked what he wanted for dinner.
“But I’m still alive,” he added. “That’ll do for tonight.”
He didn’t insult me by claiming he was fine. I’d spent my life around men who lied whenever the truth threatened their pride. Lachlan gave me the ugly truth and moved on.
I liked that too.
“Hold still. This is going to sting.”
“Do your worst, Mouse.”
There was that name again.
“I’m beginning to think you enjoy annoying me.”
“Aye.”
“At least you’re honest about it.”
“One of my better qualities.”
“I’ll reserve judgment.”
I raised the cloth, then realized the blindfold covered too much of his cheek.
“I need to lower this first. I can’t clean the cut properly with it in the way.”
“I’d like that.”
I loosened the cloth carefully and drew it down past his nose and mouth until it rested around his neck, leaving the knot in place so I could put it back exactly as I’d found it.
He blinked against the light.
Isabeast had called his eyes emeralds. For once, she hadn’t exaggerated. They were a vivid green despite the bloodshot whites and dark shadows beneath them.
His eyes found mine.
Then they dropped slowly.
Over the fitted bodice, down the skirt, and all the way to my bare feet before returning to my face.
Heat followed every inch of that slow inspection.
Bruised, bloody, and chained, he still managed to look at me like a man imagining exactly what he might do if his hands were free.
My nipples tightened beneath the bodice.
Of all the foolish reactions to have in my father’s dungeon, my body chose that one.
“Well, hell,” he murmured.
My fingers tightened around the damp cloth. I couldn’t tell whether I’d surprised him in a good way or given him one more reason to question everything.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Very fucking good.”
My cheeks burned.
His eyes dropped once more, this time with no attempt at subtlety.
“I’ve spent hours blindfolded in this hellhole, and the first thing I see is you.” The corner of a smirk pulled at his battered mouth. “That’s a hell of an improvement.”
My heart gave an embarrassing little jump.
“You’re a pretty little mouse.”
There was no mistaking what he thought. His bluntness knocked me off-kilter all over again.
“You may be concussed,” I teased.
“Probably.” He gave a small nod. “Doesn’t make me wrong.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His smile faded. The way he looked at me didn’t.
“And the best part?” he asked.
I waited.
“Thank fuck you’re nothing like Isabeast.”
The words knocked me off balance in a completely different way. Just like that, the flirting disappeared beneath a splash of cold reality.
“You’ve been able to see me for less than a minute. How do you know I’m nothing like her?”
“I’ve heard every word you’ve said and every breath you’ve taken since you first snuck in here.
” He glanced down at the towel across his lap.
“Just now, you covered my cock before you talked to me, even though you thought I was unconscious. You had no reason to be kind or pretend for my benefit. You were just being yourself.”
My eyes dropped to the towel.
He’d noticed that too.
“It’s okay you took a peek; you’re human.”
“That’s an impressive amount of confidence for a man who trusted the wrong woman less than two days ago.”
“I didn’t say I trusted you.”
That should’ve offended me.
Instead, I nearly smiled. Blind trust would’ve made him stupid, and I needed Lachlan to be anything but stupid if I was going to place the key to his restraints in his hands.
“Good,” I said. “That makes two of us.”
I pressed the cloth against the cut.
He sucked air through his teeth.
“I warned you.”
“You also promised you were helping.”
“Sometimes help hurts.”
“Spoken like a woman holding antiseptic and no sympathy.”
“I have sympathy. I’m simply enjoying the consequences of you tricking me into thinking you were unconscious.”
His mouth twitched again.
I cleaned away the dirt and dried blood as gently as I could. The cut was deeper than I’d guessed. Fresh blood welled along the lower edge before I dabbed it away.
“You may need stitches.”
“Add it to the list.”
“I’d offer to sew it myself, but I think we’ve already established the limits of my medical experience.”
“Aye. Baking and theft.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes remained on my face while I spread a thin layer of antibiotic salve over the cut.
“I saw your handiwork at dinner.”
His brows lifted.
“Isabeast’s mouth was a mess.”
“Isabeast, huh?”
The name had escaped me as naturally as though I’d used it for years.
“That may be the first honest name she’s ever had.”
A laugh tried to slip out, but I swallowed it and glanced toward the hidden door.
Lachlan smiled despite the pain it caused him.