And he remembered the look of hurt that flashed across her expressive face when he’d told her to beg.
He was right.
She was just a whore who was trying to capture her new master… so why did he feel like such a knave?
He turned to Lady Matilda, whose smug face was beginning to grate on his nerves, and sighed. His future was looking grim indeed.
Women’s feelings
, he thought with annoyance. Distracting him from the real problems in his keep. The traitor in their midst was still at large. Someone was still on Baron Rutledge’s side, stealing for him. Attacking his men.
And all he could think about were a pair of green eyes in a sad face.
Hell.
#
Father Andrew led her to the chapel and pulled out a couple of stools for them to sit on while they talked. Her legs flared with pain when she bent her knees, but she smoothed her skirts and feigned a smile when he sat down next to her.
Leah nodded uncomfortably.
He smiled, but the smile did not reach his warm brown eyes. “I wanted to talk to you today… in regards to a few things. Did you finish the sewing I left for you? The townsfolk will be quite pleased to have the clothing back and whole again. The poor need so much.”
Well, shoot. She’d completely forgotten about that. Leah winced and shook her head, an apologetic frown on her face. She gestured, trying to indicate that she’d get it done as soon as possible.
“I see.” Father Andrew looked disappointed. “Well, if you will give it back to me, I’ll find if one of the other castle women has time. I just thought…” Leah touched his hand and shook her head. She made a sewing motion with her hands –
she’d get on that basket and finish it tonight.
“Thank you, Leah. It means a lot to me that you’d do this.” She nodded, feeling like a jerk. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that she’d completely forgotten about the charity work she’d promised to do.
“I find myself… concerned about the state of the castle.” He leaned forward and clasped her hands in his own, a grave look on his face. “I have heard whispers and rumors that all is not well within. I know you cannot speak, but I wonder if perhaps others say things near you and discount the fact that you cannot talk. Tell me, have you heard the people speak of a rebellion against Lord Royce’s rule? Do they want the old Baron back?” Leah’s eyes widened. Royce was in danger? She shook her head at the priest mutely, wishing she knew more about the subject. She hadn’t heard a thing, which relieved her and worried her at the same time.
“I see,” Father Andrew said, releasing her hands and leaning back, a thoughtful look on his face. “The reason why I bring this up, Leah… the arrow you took in your arm. It was not the only incident.”
It wasn’t?
“I have heard… some of Lord Royce’s men have been attacked. Funds have been stolen from him. Livestock has been killed. Someone is waging a silent war on him in the name of Baron Rutledge, and I fear for Royce’s safety. I think you should stay away from him for the next few days, Lady Leah. Let him be distracted by Lady Matilda and her money, and keep yourself safe. I fear for your safety and do not want you to be harmed.” He stood, his gentle eyes full of concern.
Woodenly, she stood as well. Her head spun. He thought Royce was in enough danger to warrant warning her away from him? She had to talk to Muffin. Something was very wrong about the whole situation. She nodded absently, then gave the priest a clumsy curtsy, made all the more stiff and painful by the fire that shot through her legs.
She had to see Royce.
But first, the beach.
#
Leah didn’t waste any time, racing through the empty passageway and shucking her clothes. The shore was chilly and her body shivered with the cold. She didn’t stay in the water for long – the peace of being a mermaid was not with her today.
Muffin was nowhere to be seen, either. After a disappointing hour of waiting, Leah headed back to the keep before she caught a cold. Her room was empty, just as she’d left it, and she changed into a new, clean gown, braided her wet hair, then headed for the solar. She could at least sew the clothes she promised while she tried to sort the thoughts in her mind. She longed to
find Royce, to run her hands over his shoulders and make sure that he was well. She wanted to tell him what the priest had said to her and confess her fears to him.
She couldn’t, though. He was angry at her, and she was still cursed to be a half-fish mute.
She wished she could tell Royce the truth – that she wasn’t silent because she was his enemy.
She was silent because her fairy godmother was crazy (though that sounded ridiculous, too).
In the solar, though, she couldn’t seem to keep busy. Her hands fussed idly with the mending, but she ended up dumping it back in the basket and staring out the window-slits instead.
The courtyard was full of people, and, as she watched, several of them rushed to the far end of the courtyard.
Something is happening
, she thought to herself, and panic set in. She couldn’t see where they were all rushing to.
Worst of all, she couldn’t see Royce.
Leah fled the room, grabbing her skirts in her hands and clattering down the stairs at breakneck speed. Down she raced, through the hallways, through the great hall, outside to the courtyard where she nearly slammed into the back of one of the peasants. They were all crowding around something, and Leah’s heart hammered in her throat. Something was wrong.
Please, please Muffin
, she thought.
Don’t let it be Royce. Let him be well. Let him be
safe.
She pushed her way through the crowd and stared down at the scene before her. A figure lay on the ground, covered in mud and blood. A knife lay in a puddle next to him, and everyone whispered, staring and pointing at the body.
The body was not Royce’s. Leah burst into relieved tears at the sight, putting her hand to her mouth and biting her knuckles to muffle the noisy sobs that threatened to erupt.
“Leah?” Across the crowd, Royce came to her. His tunic was ripped in one part, and blood splashed across the front of his breast.
Her heart nearly stopped again and she surged forward, her fingers ripping at the fabric to check the wound. Tears poured down her face, mixing with the rain, and her breath came in sharp, harsh little gasps. He’d been hurt – they’d been trying to hurt him.
Father Andrew was right after all.
“All is well, Leah,” he soothed, even as her frantic hands searched his chest. His hand brushed her cheek gently. “He managed naught but a scratch. Everything’s fine.” Oh. Well. She felt a little silly, throwing herself all over him in the middle of a crowded courtyard with everyone staring at them. Leah snatched her hands back and blushed bright red.
Foolish she might look, but Royce was staring at her with the seductive half-grin on his face that she well recognized and that made parts of her anatomy tingle.
Her foot went cold as she stood there, smiling up at Royce. The cold water from the puddle she stood in slicked between her toes, having soaked through one of her slippers. As she felt the wet skin slide and her toes begin to tingle and burn, she realized she was in more danger than she thought.
When a large raindrop splatted atop her head, she realized that between the mud and the rain, it could be enough to begin a change. Fear trumped her concern over Royce, and Leah turned and ran, shoving through the crowd.
“Leah!” Royce called behind her. “Leah, wait!”
She couldn’t wait. Stumbling on feet that burned with unholy fire, she raced for the inside of the castle. If she could make it to her room, she’d be safe. No, wait. Her solar was closer.
Go
there
, she thought, turning down one corridor and feeling the slap of her wet skirts against her
legs. Each step was like stepping on pins and needles, and agonizing jolts of pain lanced up her legs, caught on the verge of transformation.
The solar seemed to take forever to reach, but finally the hard wood of the door was beneath her palms, and she stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind her. Her wet shoes that were causing the transformation flew across the room with two awkward kicks. She rested against the door, her back pressed against it, her breath gasping and heaving as she waited for the pain to subside. A few more minutes, and then she’d be all right. The excruciating tingling and clenching of the bones in her feet was already slowing.
“What are you doing here?”
Leah stifled the groan of frustration that threatened to escape and opened one eye. Sure enough, the hateful woman was staring back at her, affronted. Two of her ladies sat nearby, eyeing Leah with the same prudish expressions.
She straightened against the door, trying to think of a way to explain her actions. Not that she could explain, but she was soaked, she’d burst into the room, slammed the door, and kicked her shoes off. Not exactly the normal actions of your everyday village doxy. So she pasted a bright smile on her face. Maybe she could collect her shoes and leave again before Matilda had time to process everything.
There was a knock at the door, just behind Leah’s back. She could feel the vibrations through her ribs. “Leah,” Royce called. “Are you well? Is everything all right?” Lady Matilda’s eyes narrowed and her arms crossed over her chest. “What is going on?” Her voice was deadly soft. “What do you think you’re doing with my betrothed,
whore
?” Oh boy.
The door pushed her forward, and Leah stumbled in a few steps as Royce opened the door. “Leah, I—” The words died in his throat when he spotted Matilda’s angry face. “Lady Matilda. I did not realize you were in here.”
“Obviously,” she sneered.
He cleared his throat and eyed Leah, his eyes caressing her as he looked her up and down. Silly, foolish, beautiful man. He was checking to make sure she was ok. A swell of love shot through her.
“I see. Well, I will leave you ladies to yourselves.” He sounded as awkward as she felt and shut the door behind him quietly.
The two women stared at each other for a moment. Lady Matilda opened her mouth to say something, but Leah wasn’t paying attention anymore. She gathered her shoes calmly, even as Matilda began to screech and rant, and exited the solar.
A quick glance down the hallway showed her that Royce’s door shut mere moments after she stepped out. No doubt he was going to change, she thought, remembering his bloody doublet.
So she followed him into his room.
The door was unlocked. She opened it a crack and then slid inside, shutting the door behind her and sliding the latch-lock.
Royce stood in the middle of the room, near the front of the fire. “Leah?” His deep, sensual voice held a note of surprise.
His bare chest dominated her view. All she could do was stare—at the muscles before her face, and the long, deep scratch that crossed his breast. Someone had tried to kill him. They’d tried to kill Royce, and if they’d succeeded, he’d be dead.
Dead like her.
And then she wouldn’t get her second chance.
For some reason, that thought frightened her a lot less than imagining Royce bleeding to death under an assassin’s knife. She threw down her shoes and stalked across the large chamber toward him. She stopped right in front of Royce, staring up into his beautiful, harsh face. A muffled sob escaped her lips and she shook her head and closed her eyes, frustrated at her inability to communicate.
“Hush, Leah,” his warm fingers stroked her cheek, then her neck. “Everything will be well.”
She shook her head, trying to give him a watery smile as she took the edge of her skirt and pressed it against the welling blood. He was hurt, and she felt somehow responsible. If she’d stayed at his side…
She’d gone and fallen in love with the impossible man. And she couldn’t even tell him.
He brushed a wet strand of hair off her cheek. “‘Tis naught but a scratch, Leah. He wasn’t successful. You are working yourself up over nothing.” He touched the sleeve of her gown.
“You’re soaked, and you’ll catch a fever. Go and change; I’ll be fine.” His words were low and husky and sent shivers through her body.
The scratch had stopped bleeding, and she dropped the hem of her skirt. But she didn’t leave. Her fingers stretched out and touched his chest, gently exploring the bronzed expanse. He was a large man, a few inches taller than her lanky height, but his shoulders were impossibly broad. His stomach and arms were corded with muscle. Every inch of him was hard.
She heard him suck in his breath at the touch of her fingertips. “Leah,” he said, his voice a warning. “Do not tease me.” His hand dropped from her face. “If you want me, then show me, but don’t torment me. You know how I feel.”
Her fingers continued to explore the hard ridges of his abdomen. There was a myriad of scars tracing his skin, some old, some new. He’d mentioned a hard life, and they were proof of that. She snagged her fingers around the edge of his trousers and pulled him closer to her, angling her face toward his, offering herself.
His mouth descended on hers and he pulled her close to him. The feel of his hard body along hers made her toes curl with desire. His teeth found her lower lip and he gently nipped at it, then sucked, and the result was a shockwave of pleasure. Leah melted against him, her hands snaking over his smooth, hard shoulders to twine in his damp hair. Her lips met his again and she kissed him, her tongue dancing with his. The scratch of his beard stubble against her cheek was rough, but added to the edge of excitement.
His teeth gently bit along her lower lip again and moved to her jaw, trailing kisses along her neck. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold you, Leah?” His hands slid up her back.
“To take you in my arms and make you mine?” Royce’s hands slid to her laces and she felt him tug them loose. “I want to see every inch of this white skin against my own.” She felt her dress loosen and obediently lifted her arms when he tugged on the fabric, lifting it over her head. The heavy, soaked overdress was gone, leaving her in her thin sherte, which was fine enough to see through. His hands skimmed over her shoulders as if smoothing her, examining her. She slid her hands over his chest, wanting to touch him, to show him that she wanted this as much as he did.