To Shackle a Shrew (Southern Sanctuary Book 7)

by Jane Cousins

  Liam eased himself carefully down on to a cushy sofa, one covered with a large towel to protect the material from the blue ointment covering his back. “A beer would be great.” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of the pouring rain hitting the tin roof.

  Just when he was starting to think Devon was never coming out of the kitchen she appeared, carrying a mug of tea and a beer for him. Settling opposite him across the coffee table on the other large sofa she curled her feet up and blew gently on her hot tea.

  “So, am I still in the number one spot? Despite being unconscious and drooling?” He could have kicked himself with his good leg, why was he asking such an asinine question? He didn’t want Devon thinking of him as marriage material. Well, except for the consummation part of the deal. That he could totally get on board with.

  Devon considered the suitors she’d met so far, the idiot, the gay one, the slick one, the sleazy one, the irritating pompous one, the unconscious one and now the criminal. What a fine bunch they were. The single glaring problem with her current number one choice by default - she assessed Liam clinically - he wouldn’t stay unconscious for ten years… unless, no, putting someone into an induced coma for ten years would be wrong… wouldn’t it? “It’s a neck and neck race at the moment.”

  Liam took a swig of beer. “You’re probably like most women and just over thinking the whole thing anyway.” Perhaps she just needed some helpful objective advice.

  “Really?” Devon cocked a derisive eyebrow his way. “Do tell.”

  “I mean, what’s the big deal? You pick some dude with a last name of Chambers, marry him, shack up and live distinctly separate lives for a decade. There’s nothing in the contract that says you have to talk to the guy is there?”

  “No. But I do have to sleep with him.”

  “Once! To seal the deal, sure. You can just get rip roaring drunk.” Liam smiled, looking kind of impressed with his solution.

  Devon nodded. “Such a romantic, who knew. Only one little problem with your scenario there fish boy. The contract may say nothing about talking to one another but there is a very clear stipulation that for a decade I share a martial bed with my husband.”

  “You what?”

  “Seriously?” Devon gulped down some green tea. “You guys floor me. First you don’t seem to know enough about the Makura to be scared and now you’re telling me you don’t even know the stipulations your own father insisted upon adding to the contract.”

  “Ah, my father.” Liam drained the last of his beer to get rid of the nasty taste that was suddenly in his mouth, he should have known. “You want to know what our father told us about the betrothal contracts? Nothing. He claimed the documents were merely trade agreements. That he had been underhanded and sneaky, working the system so that the Merrow would profit. Of course we believed him, why wouldn’t we, my father is all about the money and what he was saying made sense. He’d pulled off the perfect sting, aligning us with fourteen clans, granting us hunting rights in their domains and trade agreements with reduced tariffs. In return for which, we paid nothing.”

  Devon shook her head. “Except the promise of fourteen bridegrooms, you weren’t at all worried that any of the clans would eventually cry foul?”

  “How could they? Father had set it up so that any and all delays would be placed squarely on the Makura. According to him no member of your race would ever lower themselves to marry a Merrow. He used to go on about how your clan was the equivalent of underwater harpies, feminists, with a loathing for men unparalleled and that your preferences as a whole ran more towards the Sapphic practises.”

  “Lovely.” Devon rolled her eyes and finished her tea. Getting up to take her mug into the kitchen she looked towards Liam. “You want anything?”

  “Another beer wouldn’t hurt.” Thunder rumbled once more in the distance, no closer, as the rain continued to fall outside, hard and steady.

  “What about when I announced my engagement to Case?” Devon reappeared carrying his beer. “Weren’t you scared then that once I’d marry him the other clans would insist the wedding contracts be fulfilled?”

  “Thanks.” He accepted the beer and watched as she resumed her seat across from him. “Not at all, if anything your announcement reinforced everything our father had been saying. We all assumed you knew Case’s reputation, that he was the most conniving worthless one of the lot of us and that you had deliberately chosen him, knowing he’d pull some asinine stunt and you could not only call off the engagement but cry foul and nullify the whole betrothal agreement. When I first received the invitation to meet you I seriously thought it was a practical joke.”

  “Well, it seems the joke has always been on me.” Devon reached back absently, unknotting her hair. “You know.” She stared out to the now dark river, barely visible through the sheets of falling rain. “The one thing above all else Makura hold dear besides revenge is honour. We honour our commitments and contracts. Your father would have known that I would never dishonour my clan by reneging on the betrothal contract. And you can’t tell me that whole clause about living together for ten years wasn’t his way of hoping to send a spy into the Makura court?”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I should have known he was lying. I didn’t meet him until I was five but the first words out of his mouth were a lie.”

  Devon could tell by the shadows in his aquamarine eyes that Liam’s father had hurt him badly, surprisingly, it made her feel angry on his behalf. She wanted to say something that would take the pain away, but she wasn’t that person. Instead she let the silence continue, not wishing to pry any further into memories that obviously still bought Liam grief.

  “So you’re really going to do it then?” Liam finally looked at Devon, a grim air clinging to him. “You’re going to marry a Merrow?”

  “I’ve never had a choice in the matter, I’m as much a victim of circumstances here as you.” Devon tossed her head proudly.

  “Yeah, I see that now.” Liam took a long pull of his beer. “We’re not going to go down without a fight Princess.” A flicker of his usual cocky smile flirted at the edges of his mouth, the dimple in the side of his cheek deepening for a moment.

  Devon wasn’t sure why but the return to his normal state of over confidence eased her own anxiety. Though why she should care if Liam were feeling ill at ease she had no idea. “Trust me, with seven down and seven to go, I never at any stage thought this would be a fun or easy task.”

  “Probably because you’re doing it wrong.” Liam advised, the sparkle back in his aquamarine eyes.

  “Excuse me?” Devon bridled, biting her cheek to keep from smiling, he really was incorrigible.

  “I think you’re taking this whole thing way too seriously. Look at how much fun you had today. I’m sure some of that could be attributed in no small part to the way you taunted Bryant. I saw the photo you took waving the French champagne in his face, I’m assuming that’s after you told him you’d found his personal credit card and he really was going to have to pay for lunch.”

  Devon couldn’t help but laugh. “He turned crimson, it really was rather satisfying.”

  “There you go. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise you don’t like playing by other people’s rules, so why start, that’s all I’m saying. Now…” He grabbed his crutch and levered himself awkwardly to his feet. “I’ve just mixed two beers with Nell’s herbal concoctions and much to my disgust my head is swimming, so before I say anything I’m going to regret, I shall excuse myself. See you in the morning, Devon.”

  Devon watched him hobble off down the darkened hallway, not at all surprised as several locks of her hair rose to wave him goodnight. Gathering her hair Devon glared down at the mass. “He’s not for us, don’t go getting too attached.”

  Sighing, she stared down at her killing nails that had appeared unbidden, she wanted to rend, tear and destroy the Merrow King for putting that pain in Liam’s eyes. It took real effort to make them retreat, too much effort.
Silently she repeated the mantra to herself, don’t get too attached. But wasn’t it already too late for that?

  Chapter Nine

  Liam wasn’t a big fan of sleeping on his stomach. As the first rays of dawn lightened the sky he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to the window overlooking the river. His back felt stiff and sore, the ointment cracking in places where it had dried. He was tired of aching, of the inconvenience of his injuries. Damn that green fire, for burning him, for interfering with his magic, for slowing his healing processes down. He was weary of feeling so weak and sore.

  He felt so restless, turning, Liam looked back at the empty bed. It would be different if a gorgeous woman waited there for him, say one with skin of dark velvet and hair the colour of a starless sky. Fuck, he winced at his thoughts. He was waxing lyrical over a Makura Princess. If Devon knew what he was thinking about her she was just as likely to tear strips off his hide with her acid tongue as those sharp nails of hers.

  Damn it, and the idea of Devon sharing his bed had made him hard. How could he like her so much? She was haughty, glared more than she smiled and had a razor sharp sense of humour that drew blood at the same time it made him laugh. Poseidon, he wanted her.

  But how was he going to keep her safe, sate his lust for her but at the same time keep his name off her list of marriage contenders? Of course his cock didn’t care about that conundrum. It just knew that Devon heated his blood like no woman he’d ever met. His mind though, that was screaming no, no, no, as a hideous shrieking death metal version of the wedding march played on a loop in his head.

  Pushing the window back he inhaled the crisp clear morning air, the sky was cloudless with the promise of being a beautiful spring day. Releasing a deep breath he shucked his cargo shorts and dived into the water below, letting himself drift along the bottom, the current carrying him closer and closer to the sea.

  He could leave. His leg might not be properly healed but he could ride the currents all the way to Brisbane, hop a plane and fly to Nepal for the start of the climbing season or Utah for the snowboard world championships.

  He’d done his duty, warned the Princess, protected her even. They’d had their official date. There was nothing keeping him at the Southern Sanctuary. The water around him began to shift, tugging at him, he was near the mouth of the river now, the ocean just around the corner.

  Decision time, freedom or Devon Patel?

  * * *

  Devon frowned as she tapped the screen of her tablet. The answer to managing, or more hopefully, eradicating Sienna Grove’s mysteriously flaring blistered throat had to be in here somewhere.

  She hadn’t been surprised or pleased to be called into the hospital first thing yesterday morning to deal with a tearful Sienna. Coating her throat with a seriously strong numbing agent would only provide short term relief. The woman’s refusal to let her perform any tests was beyond frustrating. And she’d gone into near hysterics when Devon had suggested they call Nell in for a natural healing consult.

  Absently she sipped her coffee. It was a gorgeous sunny Sunday morning, she should be swimming or at the very least online shopping, not trying solve an increasingly annoying medical mystery for an even more increasingly annoying obstinate patient.

  Nibbling on a piece of pineapple, Devon pulled a bare leg up to rest her chin on her knee. Stupid frustrating patients, she could be reading the newspaper and relaxing, or at the very least, scrolling through her favourite designer sites looking for a pair of bronze wedge sandals to wear for the coming summer.

  Suddenly her head was yanked up and to the side as several locks of her hair unexpectedly shot up in the air. What the… hey? She grabbed her wayward locks quickly before they caused her a neck injury, twisting her hair back in a sloppy knot. No internal alarm bells were ringing, so it wasn’t a threat. So what the hell had her hair practically in a tangle?

  Gulp, Liam came into view, pulling himself up out of the river, water sluicing down his very bare, very tan, very naked body. He shook his head, sending droplets of water in all directions, running fingers through his dark gold hair, raking it back from his face. Oh sweet Yami. She was a doctor, intellectually she knew that the sight of a naked body should be no big deal for her, but tell that to her hormones as heat centred between her legs. Her breasts suddenly felt full and her skin too tight as a low level insistent throbbing pulsed between her legs.

  She watched as Liam caught sight of her, a huge grin appearing on his face as he began to walk up the dock, casual as anything, limping only slightly.

  “See something you like, Princess?”

  “I’m surprised you came back. I thought you’d made a swim for it.” Going on the attack was her only hope.

  “Me? Run? Thought never crossed my mind.” His aquamarine eyes scoped out the sight she made, sitting at the outdoor table, chin resting on her knee, no makeup, her hair pulled back, a loose gold coloured sundress drawing attention to her soft dark skin. Hmm, if he didn’t find something to cover his nakedness Devon would soon know just how pleased he was to see her this morning.

  “You should put some clothes on fish boy.” Devon declared, looking down sightlessly at her tablet. For the love of the deep, man, put some clothes on before I do something stupid, she begged silently.

  “Problem, Princess? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a prude.” Come on, don’t think about how good the woman looks, or wonder if her skin was as soft as it appeared, think about libido killers… tofu, injections, taxes… world hunger.

  Devon fought hard against the urge to glare his way, if she did, it would mean looking at temptation quite literally in the face. “Please. I’m only thinking of your back. Sunshine on recently healed burns is not a good combination.” She hoped to Yami she sounded professional and detached instead of desperate and turned on.

  “My burns.” Thank Poseidon, an excuse to put some clothes on. “Of course, Princess.” He laced his toned with sarcasm as he limped as fast as he could inside. Ah, perfect, his saddlebags were still there, quickly he yanked on a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a worn grey t-shirt that had seen better days. Turning he stepped outside. “Happy now?”

  Devon glanced up, her dark eyes narrowing. How did the man manage to make casual look so darn sexy. “You look like a beach bum.” She noted the t-shirt boasted in large faded red letters that he was an Official Ski Bunny Wrangler, Whistler, 2012… charming.

  “Good.” Liam grinned as he took a seat across from her, eyeing the fruit salad and pastries she’d laid out for breakfast. “Beach bum was just the look I was aiming for.”

  “You should burn that t-shirt.”

  “Make up your mind, Princess. First you want me dressed, then you want me naked again.”

  “I didn’t say anything about getting naked, I just think that t-shirt should be burned, it looks like a health hazard.” There was a small tear on one shoulder, the neckline was frayed and there was a splattering of what she prayed to the depths were bleach stains up one side.

  Liam reached over and topped up Devon’s coffee cup before pouring one for himself. “Thanks for the coffee. And I’ll have you know this is my lucky t-shirt.” He’d been wearing it the day he’d captured a world record breaking skydiving attempt. He’d also been wearing it the day he’d got that fantastic cover shot of Kelly Slater mucking about and surfing down a sand dune in Hawaii.

  “Which just goes to show that women of the world have no self-respect.” Devon didn’t want to imagine the number of ski bunnies he’d approached and talked into posing when he was wearing that supposedly lucky t-shirt.

  Liam chuffed a laugh. Grabbed a croissant, cut it in half and slathered it with apricot jam. “Judge, jury and executioner. So…” He leaned forward to study her tablet. “What are you working on? Ew, are those pustules of some sort?” Liam sat back abruptly and looked anywhere else but at the tablet screen.

  “Wuss. And no, they’re blisters. I have this patient who is driving me nuts. She expects a miracl
e cure but she won’t let me conduct any tests.”

  “Religious reasons?”

  “Maybe. I thought I’d do some research and see if I couldn’t come up with a new approach.”

  “Ah, and on a dime you turn into someone who cares.” Liam finished off his croissant and picked up another one. Swimming and all the healing his body was currently doing made him hungry.

  Devon’s eyes narrowed, the green flecks in her eyes sparkling. “Don’t mistake professional competence with weakness, Merrow.”

  “And, she’s back to being a bitch.” Liam sent her a dimpled cheeky grin as he dipped his pastry into the honey. “A man would never be bored with you, Princess.”

  “Shut up and eat your breakfast.” Devon flicked off the tablet and pulled over the pile of newspapers. “You want the employment or the real estate section?” She offered snidely.

  “Nah, I’m good.” He smiled again, taking a deep breath, it was going to be a beautiful day. “So, what do you want to do today? I’m assuming since it’s Sunday you have the day off.”

  Devon sipped her coffee. “My plan is to stay home and do absolutely nothing.”

  “It has been rather an action packed week. Maybe later we could go for a swim together or play a game of cards or something?”

  “Do I look like I fell off the last cruise liner that floated by? Play cards with a Merrow, you’re guaranteed to try and cheat.”

  “And you’re a Makura, you’ll enjoy trying to work out how I go about it. Though if you’re not up to the challenge we don’t have to play for money, there’s always strip poker.” He passed a deliberately lurid heated glance over her bare shoulders down to the hemline of her short sundress. “The stakes look pretty even, two for two.”

  Devon flashed him a knowing smile that melted his bones and sent the blood rushing to his cock.