DevilsHeart

by Laura Glenn

  Rathe.

  The mere word drew an unwanted sigh from Leah’s lips. She had avoided him the entire day by sticking close to her chamber. After a very long and very sleepless night of tossing and turning as the memory of his lips tormented her, the last thing she needed was to bump into him again.

  “That man’s soul is as black as the devil.”

  Ugh. Gossip. But Leah needed something—almost anything at this point—to scare her desire away from this man for good. “Why do you say that?”

  Alpina snorted. “Where do I begin? He is a bastard. He has tupped half of the women in Scotland and France, for one thing. I have also heard he turns absolutely soulless in battle. His eyes rage a sickly green as the devil possesses him and uses his body to bring death and destruction. No man can be as undefeatable as he is without making some sort of pact with Satan. Mark my words.”

  A smile of amusement tickled Leah’s lips. Ah, the medieval version of rumors.

  She glanced at Rathe and their eyes clashed. One corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he winked. She bit her lower lip and tore her eyes away, her heart thundering.

  “And his wives.” Alpina leaned toward her. “You have heard about his wives, haven’t you?”

  Wives? Did she really want to hear this after all? Sure, it was dangerous being around the guy, but she’d like to keep at least a bit of the fantasy alive. If only so she could have something to daydream about when she was once again staring at the tattered literacy posters on the wall of her small office in the basement of the library.

  “Well, it is said he killed them. The first for not delivering him a son and the second for delivering him another man’s son,” Alpina whispered into her ear.

  Leah’s stomach fell. She had always been a decent judge of character. He was overwhelming and forthright, to be sure, but he hadn’t struck her as possessing a black heart. Why would he have bothered saving her from being run through with a sword if he was as evil as Alpina insisted?

  The little hairs on the back of Leah’s neck bristled. Rathe wasn’t a man who needed her defense, but she detested gossip. “Perhaps they are simple rumors put out by those who are jealous of his success,” she murmured as she set her now-empty cup down next to Alpina’s.

  Alpina scoffed. “I do have it on good authority, I assure you. I doubt he is known as the Satan of the Highlands for nothing, you know.”

  Leah chewed on her bottom lip as she braved another glance in Rathe’s direction. He was nowhere to be seen. Her shoulders relaxed as the wine’s alcohol warmed her blood.

  “Come.” Alpina turned away. “It is late and we should consider retiring soon. The men are only going to get drunker and you, my dear, will end up finding yourself ill-used if we stay much longer. These Highlanders are pure animals.”

  Leah nodded. She’d reached her limit for the evening anyway. As she turned, she smacked into someone whose hands spanned her waist to hold her steady as she stumbled backward.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, her hands flattening on the man’s massive chest.

  Rathe grinned back at her and he drew her hips against his.

  Her eyes widened and she froze. The hardness of his thighs pressed into hers and his pecs flexed beneath her fingers.

  He leaned forward, resting his cheek on hers. “You look about as frightened as a hunted doe.”

  She struggled to find her voice as her throat dried with a tentative inhalation. “You make me nervous.”

  He dragged his lower lip across her cheek to her neck. “And you make me hot.”

  The heat of his breath seared her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to gather her scattered thoughts. The laughter and music in the hall faded, replaced by his soft breath in her ear. She struggled to resist the urge to press her lips to his neck as her nipples peaked.

  He slid his thumb back and forth over the still-tender flesh of her bruise from yesterday’s tackling incident. “How is your hip?” His cock hardened against her stomach.

  Her breath caught in her throat, a moist heat surging between her thighs. Was she imagining that? Of course she was. A man who looked like him wouldn’t be turned on by a little mousey thing like her. “Bruised. No thanks to you.”

  His laugh resonated deep within his throat. “Now that is more like it. I like me a spirited lass.”

  “Do unhand her immediately!” Alpina shouted.

  Leah jumped, pressing into Rathe. His fingers flexed into her waist.

  “Do not force me into bringing my husband and the mormaer over here!”

  Rathe lifted his head from Leah’s. “Good evening, Lady Barclay.”

  “It was before you arrived,” Alpina challenged. “Now unhand her. She wants nothing to do with the likes of you.”

  He glanced down at her as one corner of his mouth lifted in a salty grin. “Might I assume you have been filling the lass’s head with dark tales of my past?”

  Alpina snorted. “I do believe, Laird Sinclair, your reputation precedes you.”

  His hands fell away from Leah’s waist. “I am always at your service, lass,” he murmured.

  Her lips parted in a deep inhalation as he pressed a long, lingering kiss upon her hand. She swayed but managed to right herself as he withdrew to his full height. She caught his eyes and held them, searching for any clue to the evil Alpina was so certain existed. He smiled, nothing in his features suggesting he was anything other than what he appeared to be.

  The air chilled around her as he stepped away. Leah wrapped her arms around her waist as Rathe bowed before Alpina.

  “Lady Barclay.” Amusement laced his voice as he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  Alpina grabbed Leah’s shoulders and held her steady as she looked her up and down. “Are you all right, my dear? Did I not say you would be ill-used if we stayed much longer? Oooh, the nerve of that man!”

  Leah nodded as the din of the boisterous men suddenly clanged in her ears from out of nowhere. Her knees buckled for a split second, but she locked them back into place.

  “Oh, look!” Alpina wrapped a hand around Leah’s elbow and drew her attention away from the direction in which Rathe had gone. “It is my dear Lady Mary and the mormaer!”

  Alpina waved at them and David nodded at her as he drew his wife over to them.

  “I am happy to have found you, Leah.” David released his wife’s arm and clasped his hands behind his back. “I have excellent news for you.”

  Alpina nodded with a huge grin plastered across her strong, hawklike features. A gentle smile played at Mary’s lips.

  Was David taking her back to Fannich? Or maybe he had even located the old woman who was going to now help her get back home. Her stomach flipped with excitement. “What is it?”

  “The king has decided you should be rewarded for your selfless rescue of my son, who also happens to be the king’s godson, mind you.” David’s eyes twinkled as though he were quite pleased with himself. “He has decided to bestow upon you a parcel of land up north you will carry with you into your marriage.”

  Leah’s eyes flicked between them, apprehension and confusion rendering her immobile. “Marriage?”

  “I have the perfect husband for you, my dear,” he announced with a smile.

  * * * * *

  Rathe tilted his head back and allowed the rest of the ale to slither down his throat. The woman had been haunting him. Long, supple body that yielded beneath his as he pinned her to the ground. Soft lips that melted when he kissed them.

  He’d desired women before—and had them too—but this one was different. A strange, heady combination of timidity and sensuality. Of ice and fire. His boldness frightened her, but as soon as her icy exterior thawed she transformed into a passionate little minx.

  If only that meddling old Barclay woman hadn’t interfered. The woman had had it out for him ever since he refused her father’s offer of her young, sickly sister in marriage. Rathe’s first wife had been similarly constituted, always pale
and cold no matter the weather and quick to complain about the remoteness of his land in the western Highlands. Her death in childbirth was unsurprising, especially after her laboring in the dead of winter to bring forth a large, healthy baby girl.

  Leah was so different from either of his two wives. Or, for that matter, most of the women he’d had the pleasure of bedding over the years. Shy and inhibited but somehow regal. All curves and softness along with a good amount of height to match his own large stature and still tuck into his arms like a wee dove. Many women had exhibited one or two of these characteristics over the years, but none had possessed them all.

  He traced the outline of her hip across the room with his eyes and his cock stirred. Soft, supple waves of auburn hair. Trim waist. Velvety skin.

  But then her shoulders tensed. The mormaer’s lips moved as his brows drew together in confusion. Lady Barclay slipped her arm around Leah’s waist and Lady Mary stroked Leah’s hand.

  Bad news. A strange tightness in his chest almost pulled Rathe across the room as Leah lifted her hand to wipe one eye while shaking her head. The mormaer’s lips ceased moving as he stared at her.

  Rathe shifted, crossing his arms. His eyes narrowed as David shook his head and Leah’s shoulders slumped. Her defeat tore at him and he stepped forward just as Lady Barclay shifted Leah toward the staircase. He hesitated and Lady Mary patted David on the arm before following behind the other women.

  Good. Let the women take care of it. It was probably for the best anyway.

  “Care to be topped off, my lord?”

  Rathe tore his eyes away from Leah. Bright-blue eyes flashed at him. “Janet.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  “Heard you got in yesterday morning.” She arched her back, drawing attention to her ample breasts nearly spilling out of the low neckline of the straw-colored linen underdress, or leine, peeking out from beneath her bodice. “Sorry I was not around last night. My mother was feeling poorly and begged me to stay with her.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” His cock didn’t stir this time. He’d always loved Janet’s cleavage and the flirtatious smirk was a near-permanent fixture of her face. But it did little for him tonight. “I do hope she is feeling better.”

  “Oh, she is.” She closed the distance between them. Her breasts grazed against him and she tilted her head up, parting her lips in invitation.

  Dear Janet. Always so ready and willing. Just hours prior to his arrival at the mormaer’s holding, he had been looking forward to her soft, ample curves welcoming him into her. It had been too long since he’d last tupped a lass and he needed release.

  So why now was he less than interested?

  A flash of long, wavy auburn hair flew through his mind’s eye. Soft, pink lips. Brilliant hazel eyes reminiscent of the mountains around his keep in late fall.

  Damn it. Since when did the thought of another bonny lass ever get in the way of him enjoying the lass in front of him?

  “They will all be drunk enough soon,” Janet purred, trailing one finger down his chest to his abdomen. “I could slip away.”

  Rathe grabbed her finger just before it reached his groin. “Another time, Janet. I have something I need to take care of tonight.”

  He handed her his empty ale cup and she shrugged.

  “Suit yourself,” she replied with a flash of vexation. An instant later, her expression softened. “Shall I wait or am I free for the evening?”

  He grinned. “You are free to do as you will, lass.”

  She returned his smile and pivoted on one heel. “I would not say no should you stumble upon me flat on my back and decide to join in,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Rathe chuckled, admiring the exaggerated sway of her hips as Janet sauntered over to a nearby group of men and poured golden ale into outstretched cups.

  As one man pinched Janet’s ample behind and she laughed, slapping his fingers away, Rathe’s gaze was drawn back to the staircase. Leah had seemed upset. Should he check in on her and make sure she was all right? Or would that be presumptuous of him? They’d only had a couple of brief encounters and each one had resulted in him attempting to seduce her. Odds were she’d see his attention as suspect at best and a manipulation at worst.

  But there was something about her. Each time he looked into her eyes he sensed an inexplicable kinship, which was odd since she seemed to be his exact opposite. He was forthright, spontaneous, and confident. She was timid, guarded, and vulnerable. It was that vulnerability which drew him now, coaxing him to find her. The woman tugged at something unfamiliar, deep within him, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  He wove his way through the crowd toward the staircase. All he needed was to assure himself Leah was all right and no worse for the wear.

  “Rathe!” David called from off to the side.

  Rathe stopped just shy of the staircase and turned to find the mormaer among another group of men.

  “Everything all right?” David asked as Rathe approached.

  Rathe shrugged. “Why?”

  “Nothing. You just seemed distracted,” David replied, crooking his finger at Rathe to indicate he was to join him. “Come, I want your opinion on the MacDonald. It seems he is bent on making trouble along the coast just south of your land.”

  Rathe was careful to hide his annoyance as he joined David, who was surrounded by three older lairds with whom Rathe was all too familiar. Rathe crossed his arms, only half listening to the debate. Same old complaints, just a different day. The truth was he was little concerned about the MacDonald, since the two had spent some time together as youths and understood one another well. He was considered ruthless and calculating by some, but so was Rathe. Neither held a single dishonorable bone in his body, however, despite both embracing mercilessness whenever necessary.

  No, Rathe had no problem being called the Satan of the Highlands. In fact, he relished the nickname. He had earned it. And now when people called him a bastard, it was because of his cutthroat reputation instead of his unfortunate parentage.

  “Well, Rathe?” David prompted. “Do we need to intervene?”

  Rathe shook his head. “The MacDonald does not make trouble for sport. There is no need to concern ourselves just yet.”

  David nodded, stroking his closely cropped beard. “I trust the Sinclair’s judgment on this.”

  Two men in the group grumbled in protest, but Rathe ignored them and excused himself from the mormaer’s presence. Passing by the main staircase, he slipped around several men toward an open doorway. It led to a hallway to one of the back staircases the servants usually used.

  The dimly lit corridor was empty when he entered. Shadows from lit torches danced on the stone walls in front of him. He stared up the narrow staircase. Was he was really daft enough to attempt to find Leah in the maze of rooms above?

  More importantly, should he be trusted with her if he did find her?

  He paused. He’d never once considered whether or not it was right for him to be alone with a woman. He simply did what he wanted. As long as the lady in question was willing, why should he not?

  This woman had muddled his thinking. He shook his head and ascended the stairs.

  Chapter Four

  Leah gripped the railing. The smoothness of the well-worn wood comforted her as she stared down the darkened stairs while mulling over her hasty plan. The stable boys kept cloaks on the hooks in the stables for when it rained, so that would be easy enough to grab. There was always some sort of hard cheese and brown bread in the kitchen. Not to mention knives. She would need one for protection at least, if David’s talk of roving bands of outcast men was to be trusted and not just some ploy to encourage her to stay within the confines of the castle walls.

  Her jaw tensed. It should be easy enough to slip past guards and servants without anyone being the wiser since almost everyone was busy partying in the great hall below, right? Sure, she possessed only a vague notion of the direction from which they had traveled from Graham la
nd. But desperation pressed her onward. Her family would be worried sick by now and the last thing she needed was to get trapped in a marriage with some chauvinistic, thirteenth-century man. Why the hell had the mormaer done this anyway?

  She relaxed her hold on the railing and picked up her skirts with her other hand and she descended down the narrow, winding staircase. Her head swam and she paused. The whisky Alpina had poured her earlier was kicking in full force. Alpina had insisted it would calm her down after hearing about David’s plans to marry her off. Leah had had to fight past the burning sensation in her throat as she had swallowed the golden liquid, but for some stupid reason didn’t stop Alpina from pouring more. Not wanting to draw too much attention by refusing, Leah had finished that cup too.

  A solid mass smacked into her. She gasped, her head snapping upward.

  Rathe.

  She froze. She seriously had to start watching where she was going.

  He chuckled, the deep timbre of his tone delighting her. Leah’s stomach flipped from apprehension to a warm jelly. Damn it. She dropped her gaze to Rathe’s chest, sending a silent plea to her feet to step away.

  The heat of his stare burned into the top of her head and an odd twinge of disappointment filled her at the thought of not ever having the opportunity to experience at least one night with him. He was a man who could have played a prominent role in her fantasies back home. Tall, muscular, oozing a dark, magnetic sensuality. Her sister would kill her if she ever knew she’d had a chance like this and had blown it.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice low. “What is the matter?”

  She lifted her eyes back up to his in surprise over his concerned tone. “Nothing,” she whispered with a shake of her head as she attempted to skirt him.

  He grabbed her waist, holding her steady. “Do not lie to me. I saw you speaking with the mormaer.”

  “It was nothing.” She wrapped her fingers around his, attempting to pry his hands away.

  “Tell me. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”