Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

S omething was different about Alaric. Lucia could tell, her gut feeling that something had changed as they all headed back to the castle after dealing with the brigands and the small fires that had been ignited in the woods. What she didn’t know was what could have possibly caused such a sudden change in Alaric and his attitude.

They had hardly exchanged a single word since they left the woods. Now, back safe behind castle walls with the attack thwarted, she would have thought that Alaric would be celebrating with everyone else, even if they were all exhausted and there was still much work to be done. Instead, he was sullen, staring right ahead and never once meeting her gaze. Even as soldiers congratulated him, he merely nodded in acknowledgement and bypassed them, never once stopping until he was in his chambers.

Lucia was not far behind. Alaric made no effort to push her aside or tell her not to follow, so she didn’t keep her distance, even if a part of her felt like she should. Whatever it was that had caused this sudden change in him, it had to be something serious. It had to be something of great magnitude, as she had never seen him like that before. Lucia couldn’t even begin to guess what it could be, though, when everything had been just fine with him just before the attack.

Was he simply concerned, she wondered? Did he blame himself for the Ravencloaks following them to Castle MacGregor? Did he blame her for it?

Once they were in his chambers, Lucia wasted no time before she heated some water from the jug on his dresser and grabbed some clean cloth. Blood coated his arms and neck, and she knew she was in no better condition, but she also knew that save for a few minor scrapes and bruises, she was unharmed. She couldn’t say the same for Alaric. She wasn’t sure how much of that blood belonged to the brigands and how much belonged to him.

With a weary sigh, Alaric sat on the edge of his bed, feet planted firmly on the stone floor. His chambers now seemed colder, though it hadn’t that long since they had left them and the fire was still burning. Something was missing, Lucia thought; something she couldn’t name but she felt it a visceral level.

It was Alaric, she realized. There was a chill about him, an air she hadn’t even encountered when they had first met, and now that she was seeing this cold side of him, she didn’t know how to react to it.

Slowly, a little hesitantly, even, she made her way to the bed and sat down next to him in silence, a clean cloth that she had dipped into the hot water held firmly in her hand. Once again, Alaric remained silent as she began to gently wipe the blood off his skin, checking for any wounds that he could have sustained. He neither pushed her away nor leaned into her touch. He did not tell her to stop nor did he thank her for her assistance, but rather only sat there, silent and still as a statue. It was as though Alaric wasn’t there at all, as if what remained was the husk of him, nothing but a shell of who he was.

When he finally spoke, breaking the unbearable silence between them, what he said was not what Lucia had expected to hear.

“Who is Rory Campbell?”

At the question, her blood ran cold. How did Alaric know that name? Where had he heard it? And why was he bringing it up now?

Did that fool Rory tell him his name when he caught him?

Lucia would have thought that Rory and his men would have been more careful than to reveal their true identities, even if they had the reputation of fools. They were brigands, after all. How could they be so careless, so entirely unconcerned by the fact that their captured target was always listening?

How could they have revealed their identities to Alaric?

Lucia didn’t even realize she was moving until her lips were already pressed against Alaric’s. At first, he didn’t respond and she thought he would surely push her back this time and demand to know the truth, but not long after, he grabbed her and deepened the kiss, much to Lucia’s surprise. She didn’t want him to stop, though, and so she allowed it, parting her lips to let him lick into her mouth greedily, his fingers tangling in the strands of her hair.

She didn’t think she would ever get to have this again. What were the odds that Alaric would still have feelings for her once he knew the full truth about her and everything she had done?

She had betrayed him, and the betrayal had been so terrible that she couldn’t ask for his forgiveness. Even if she had orchestrated everything before she knew him, even if it had never been her intention to fall for him or to have him fall for her, the truth of the matter was that she had used him for her own benefit without giving any thought to the consequences.

Alaric had every right to hate her.

Just this once, just fer one night, he can still be mine.

Afterwards, she would reveal the truth to him.

The cloth abandoned on the floor, Lucia swung her leg over and settled in Alaric’s lap, her arms snaking around his neck. The adrenaline of the battle still lingered within them, their desire mixing with the relief that they were both alive and unharmed, their brush with death making them feel even more alive now that they were in each other’s arms. Blood still coated their clothes, but neither of them paid it any mind as they tore off each other’s tunics with eager hands, tossing them in a careless heap on the floor. Nothing mattered to Lucia but the solid heat of Alaric’s body, the tender caress of his hands as he drew them down her shoulders, her back, fingers tracing the bumps of her spine before finally settling on her rear and squeezing the ample flesh with an eagerness that cut her breath short. There was a sense of urgency in him, something that was reflected in Lucia. Being with each other felt necessary—as though this was the last time they would ever be together and they were both well aware of it.

No words were exchanged between them; none were necessary. The silence in the room was only broken by their breathy moans and sighs as they kissed, Lucia’s hips rolling slowly over Alaric. She could feel his manhood harden against her thigh, the heat of it intoxicating, and she reached for him, wrapping her slender fingers around his length to stroke him slowly. Against her lips, Alaric couldn’t help but moan in pleasure, hips bucking under her as he tried to get more friction, but Lucia kept her touch light and teasing, barely giving him what he wanted.

Alaric all but growled against her lips, impatient. With a pair of strong hands, he pulled Lucia up to her knees and kissed the swell of her breasts, licking and mouthing at the sensitive skin before he drew her nipple between his lips, sucking gently at the nub. Lucia couldn’t help but gasp, her back arching as she sought out more of the maddening sensation. It was easy to focus on that, to push every other thought out of her mind, no matter how persistent it had been only moments before. She could allow herself to slip into this fantasy for as long as it would last. Selfish as it was, she could allow herself to take everything Alaric gave her, to lose herself in her pleasure, even if she knew it would have to end soon.

Besides, Alaric was doing the same thing, Lucia knew. He was no fool; if he knew Rory’s name, then he suspected everything else, too, and yet he was still there, just as eager to be with Lucia as she was to be with him.

Moving one of his hands lower, Alaric teased her entrance with his fingers, caressing her folds. His touch was gentle, a barely-there brush of skin on skin, but it was enough to make Lucia moan his name and move her hips, urging him to finally enter her, even if it was only with his fingers. Just as she had teased him, though, he was teasing her now, rubbing over her sensitive flesh to spread her wetness around, never quite giving her what she needed.

But when Alaric finally pressed his fingers inside her, two of them slipping into her entrance with ease and caressing her inner walls, Lucia had no choice but to cry out in pleasure. Even if she wanted to hold back, even if she didn’t want to wear her heart on her sleeve, she couldn’t help but make it known, just how much she loved Alaric’s attentions and just how much she wanted him.

The slick sound of their coupling filled the room and Lucia’s ears. Her cheeks heated, the flush spreading all the way down to her chest half in pleasure and half in embarrassment. She hated how easy it was for Alaric to reduce her to a whimpering mess, to make her writhe and moan in his lap, begging him for more, but at the same time, she had no control over it. With his strong, capable hands and his tender, teasing lips that brushed over her neck and latched onto the skin, sucking and biting at the junction of her neck and shoulder, he had no trouble getting her to surrender to him, to let him do as he pleased and trust that he would give her precisely what she needed.

When Alaric withdrew his fingers, Lucia whimpered at the loss of his touch, but she was soon silenced when she felt the tip of his manhood pressing against her entrance. Slowly, with trembling thighs, she sank on his length, taking him inside her to the hilt in one smooth movement that left them both gasping for air. Alaric’s hands were like a vice around her hips, fingers digging deep into her flesh and bound to leave marks behind, small bruises in the shapes of his fingers. She wished they would last more than a few days. A part of her wished they would last forever, an imprint on her skin—a memento that would be only for her and through which she could still have a part of him with her once they would part ways. It was wishful thinking, of course. The marks would fade and so would the memory of him, just as so many other memories had faded before him.

Threading her fingers through his hair, Lucia pulled Alaric into a kiss that he accepted with ease as she began to roll her hips, bouncing on his lap. Every drag of his length against her walls only served to fuel her desire, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her entire body. Everything seemed magnified in that moment—every sensation more pleasurable than ever before, from the urgent kisses and gentle bites that Alaric scattered over her neck as she took him deep inside her to the jolt of sensation that speared through her with every bounce of her hips that rubbed her mound against him, teasing her most sensitive spot. And the more Alaric moaned and writhed under her, the more Lucia sped up her movements until they could both hardly take it, her breasts swinging with every motion.

Her climax, when it came, caught her by surprise with its suddenness and intensity. She reached her orgasm with a shout of Alaric’s name, trembling in his arms as she took him as deep as she could one more time, the force of it so intense that for a few moments, she was plunged into a warm, comfortable darkness.

When she came to once more, she found herself on her back on the bed, Alaric holding her thighs apart with his hands as he plunged deep into her time and time again, chasing his own release. In the half-light, he was so achingly handsome that Lucia couldn’t help but reach for him, cradling his face in her hands. Alaric’s gaze bore into her, never once leaving her own. Lucia could have sworn that he could read every thought in her mind, feel every emotion that she was feeling. Never before had she felt this connected to someone, as though they were one.

That, too, had to end, though. It didn’t take long for Alaric to reach his own peak, burying his face in Lucia’s neck with a sigh as he did, his hips giving a few more trembling thrusts before he finally collapsed half on top of her and half onto the bed next to her.

Silence followed, disrupted only by their heavy breathing. Lucia knew it for what it was; neither of them wanted to break the spell that had fallen over them. Neither of them wanted to admit that there was something broken between them, something neither of them knew how to fix.

There was no doubt in Lucia’s mind that the right thing to do was to tell Alaric the entire truth, no matter how much it would hurt him. Naivety was often better than knowledge, but doubt was certainly worse, and Alaric already had doubts about her. She couldn’t keep this from him any longer.

Lucia allowed herself only a few more moments of silence and peace before she stood from the bed and gathered her clothes. It was as though she was putting on her armor again, even if it was nothing but her tunic—a wall between her and Alaric, something to hide as much as she could from him.

Wordlessly, Alaric stood and dressed as well, surely knowing what was to come. Once they were both decent, he sat on the edge of the bed again and looked at her for a moment as she stood before him.

“So,” he said, “I suppose there is somethin’ ye wish tae tell me.”