Page 32 of Tair

“Your thoughts escape the bout,” Cath said just before he tried to sweep Tair’s leg out from under him.

He grabbed the war master’s tunic and slung him across the circle. “You envy me that pretty wench. Get your own. Lucy belongs to me.”

“I freed my wee love from the horrors of the dark Fae kingdom in Elphyne. ’Twill never be another for me.” The war master suddenly lowered his club. “Dinnae give your heart to a mortal wench. You shall bury the damned thing with her.”

Chapter Eight

Afew days after breaking up the brawl in the hall, Lucy woke up with her face pressed against a brick wall covered in muscle. She tried to roll away, but strong arms closed around her, and held her in place.

“’Tis too early to rise,” Tair said, his voice a tired grumble. “Be still.”

She would have happily agreed, but she knew why she had been waking up earlier and earlier every day: him. The laird had been pulling her into his arms while she slept and held onto her so that they woke up facing each other. The new tactic was undoubtably meant to push her into a decision. Lucy originally had had no intention of being intimate with the laird again, but sleeping and waking up with him was starting to wear down her resolve.

She also knew she couldn’t let that happen. It would have been simple if it were only sex, but things were changing between them.

“Would you please stop squashing me?” As his arm fell away she shifted to his side. “When did you come to bed last night?”

“Too late to find you awake.” He dragged a hand over his face before he faced her, and curled his hand around the side of her neck. “You called for me in your sleep. Mayhap ’tis time you choose me as your lover.”

“I never talk in my sleep.” She hoped. “Don’t lie to try to get into my knickers. You’re a laird, remember. It’s beneath you.”

“I’m a man before I’m a laird, woman, and you tempt me sorely.” He reached out to catch a piece of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. His thumb then strayed to her lobe and rubbed it gently as he looked all over her face. “Gods, but you’re lovelier than the sun in the morn. I wish I might wrap myself in your beauty.”

Lucy smiled. “You can’t wear me like a tartan, sir.” She held out her chained wrist. “I’d like to get an early start on my day, so would you do the honors?”

“You may start with me.” Tair rolled on top of her, pinning her with the weight of his big body to the feather-stuffed mattress. When he tried to kiss her, she turned her face away. “Dinnae deny me, wench. I shall ravish you time and again until you agree to be mine.”

“If that were true, you would have ravished me time and again the very first night.” It was hard keeping her expression bland with all his lust glaring down at her, but she couldn’t afford to lose this battle. “You’re a wretched liar, you know. Beating me might work, but you don’t hurt females, either. Like that kitchen maid who splashed your arm with the brew she was pouring for you the other day. You just took the pot from her and finished filling your mug.”

His mouth came down to within a breath of hers. “You cannae persuade me to believe you dinnae want me. When I come to you, you cannae take your gaze from me. As you slumber you drape your body over mine. I dinnae force myself on females, but I desire you too much. You desire me as well. We’ve waited long enough. Decide.”

Lucy hadn’t realized he could read her so easily.

“If you must have an answer from me this morning, it won’t be yes,” she promised. As he unfastened her shackle and then rolled off her she hid her relief. In a softer tone, she said, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not ready to commit to you.”

“Now you lie.” He jerked the coverlet over himself and presented his back to her.

Lucy knew if she touched him now he’d be on top of her and there would be no stopping him again, so she gingerly climbed off the bed and went to dress by the hearth. When she turned around to look for her boots she saw the laird was sitting up and watching her.

She smiled cheerfully. “Do you want me to bring you some brew later?”

“I dinnae want brew.” Tair’s eyes narrowed as she turned away from him. “You conceal naught from me, wench, for I’ve seen every naked inch of you before now.”

“I’m trying not to lead you into temptation.” Keeping her tone impersonal was getting harder, and she really wanted to go over there and thump him. “Besides, you need sleep more than my ravishment.”

“You should get out now, else I prove you wrong again,” he said, almost growling the words.

Lucy grabbed her boots and left, stopping in the outer passage to put them on before she went downstairs to the kitchens. As she approached the arch she heard a group of maids talking, and what they said stopped her in her tracks.

“I’m so weary of the ruse,” Garia was complaining. “My hair, ’tis full of knots, and I’ve a rash from scratching myself. The stink from leaving the old wet straw to rot in the dungeons instead of burning the stuff as we ever do, ’tis filled every passage and chamber now. When shall the laird send her away so we can end our pretenses?”

“At least you didnae have to play harlot,” another maid said. “I spend half the afternoons bouncing on some lap or another instead of attending to my work. Maister Ronan, when shall we be rid of the outsider?”

“That you should go and ask Seneschal,” the cook said. “After you’ve finished serving. Get on with you now. The men, they’re hungry.”

In that moment Lucy knew she had been hoodwinked since the moment she had arrived—but why? What purpose would it serve to convince her that everyone here was dirty, lazy, and/or sex-crazed?

It’s not just me. It’s any outsider. They don’t want anyone who doesn’t belong to the clan or work for them to know the truth.