by Aliyah Burke
One dark eyebrow quirked at her while he commented, “I know better ways to keep warm at night than that.”
Humph. “Get going. I want the place to be warm soon.” She strode to the woodhouse while he went in to do as she bade.
She made three more trips before she was content that they were sufficiently stocked. Then she went out and brought more to the porch so it was stacked high there as well. She took a rope and tied a line from the cabin to the other structures. By the time she had finished, the sky had turned black and snow fell so hard she had to use the rope to get back to the cabin.
As she entered the cabin, she shook off her cloak, now white instead of black. It was warm in the cabin and she tried without success to repress a shiver. She headed for her room to get into some warm dry clothes. When she came back, Lucien feasted his eyes on her with an intensity that made her repress a completely different kind of shiver.
“It’s getting bad out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes. My guess is we will be stuck in this cabin for a few days. I tied ropes from the porch to the woodhouse and to the outhouse. If you do go out, use them.”
“What about food?”
“The larder is stocked. Since we have been eating fresh meat, I haven’t touched what is in there.”
“You don’t have enough for the two of us for all winter, do you?”
“Don’t worry. On days that it’s not snowing like this I will get fresh meat. Faolan hunts for himself, unless the weather gets too bad. But he usually gorges himself so if he misses a day it is fine. Since I wasn’t expecting Kosse here, I would have been doing extra hunting anyway.”
“I will pay you back for this.”
“Very well then. I would have your word on something.”
“What?”
“Your word that no harm will come to the bay stallion by your hands.”
“You have it. I am getting the horse for my father, the duke, but as long as he is with me I will not allow harm to befall him. Anymore.”
“Do you race horses in England?”
“I am too big. I like to wager and watch races. I have wondered what it would be like to have a horse that would beat one my father had. His thoroughbreds are amazing. For being a mean old man, he does have good horses.”
“Why don’t you open your own stables? I assume that, being a marquess you would have the money.”
Lucien thought a moment before he answered. “I have mulled it over. But if I ever showed interest in a horse, he would offer the person twice what I did just so I wouldn’t be able to get him. That is what he did with this one. Rumors of the bay reached him from sailors who had been to Baltimore and so he asked, no, ordered me to get him for his own collection. Since I had shown interest in the horse, he claimed it first.
“I would have the money, I just would not get any horses. I would have to start from scratch.”
“What’s wrong with that? I would think that you would jump at the idea to do that. I mean to have something that is yours alone. Not because you were born to it, but because you made it what it was. Something your father could not take from you.”
Ciara shrugged as she stuck dinner in the oven then joined him by the fire.
“Look, I don’t know your situation…”
“No. You don’t.” The tone sharp. The meaning clear.
“However,” she continued, one hundred percent dismissing his veiled threat as inconsequential, “I do know when someone is trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. I look at you and see a handsome, a very handsome man. You are lost, you have no direction. You are still under your father’s rule and will be until you do something for yourself and not something with the sole purpose of it being to shock your parents.”
“Handsome? You think I am handsome? What else do you think of me?”
“Nothing. Stop changing the subject. You have enough arrogance without needing to add me to bolster your ego. Maybe in England it is good to have that cloud of arrogance but I am the only one here. Stop trying to impress me. I don’t like your attitude. All it shows me is rudeness and that you believe you are better than someone because you were born into something. You did nothing to earn it except being born.
“You probably don’t even mean to flirt. I am guessing it’s a second nature to you and you don’t know you’re doing it. I have no use for flirting or anything similar. To me it’s petty. I don’t find it attractive. I have seen something in you that I like, but when I think you will let that person out you shove him away, and become cold, hard. Soulless. I much prefer honesty versus sweet-sounding words that have less meaning than the air you wasted saying them.” She rose to check on dinner.
Lucien was shocked. Shocked. Astounded. Enraged. Furious. Embarrassed. Was that how people saw him? She was closer than she knew on her observations of him. He was all of those things. For him, to flirt was as natural as breathing. He didn’t think of the women he slept with, for they were nothing more than a brief distraction. Servants and nonmembers of the peerage were not worth a second glance.
His nanny and schoolteachers had drilled, no, beaten all that into him from the time he was a baby with their whips and rulers. She was right. He was a veritable jackass. Until now he just hadn’t cared what everyone else thought.
The anger deep within him that had festered, stewed and grown since he was a boy boiled over at her words. His eyes narrowed in challenge at her turned back as she put the dinner in the oven once more. “Honesty,” he sneered. “You wish me to be honest? Very well. Let me tell you.
“I want to take you to your bed and strip off all your clothes. I want to run my tongue all over your body, delving into each and every crevice to find out what you taste like. I want to fill you with my hardness and spill myself into your depths.” He rose and stalked her. He knew she listened but she wouldn’t turn to face him. She stayed and faced the window after she’d put the rabbit back in the oven.
“What I want is you. You. You have bewitched me. You with your bronze skin, golden eyes, lush lips and intoxicating scent—that I have yet to identify—I want to take a lifetime getting to know you and then, when I am done, I would wish to begin again. You with your body that you keep covered by male clothing yet there is nothing masculine about you. You who don’t lose your composure. You spurn my advances and I want to break that. I want to break you, tame you, make you mine.”
His strong hands gripped her shoulders as he spun her around to face him, his voice deep and resonating. He forced her to look at him, not physically but with the allure and velvet heat of his words.
“I want to hear you moaning my name. Not Saint, not Wolf, not my lord. Just Lucien. Lucien. I want you to call me Lucien as I come deep within you. I want to spend days learning your body, your likes and dislikes. I want to show you things that I learned in my travels. I want to brand you as mine. You will belong to me. I will have you.”
Her eyes flashed dangerously.
He quirked a brow and added, “I want you to dream of me. I want to know that the very thought of me makes you wet and wanting me. Is that honest enough for you? Or would you like me to go into more explicit detail of what I honestly want?”
His hands cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her lips as his eyes bore deep.
Ciara’s eyes narrowed in response.
“Thank you for proving my point. You are rude. You try to sweet-talk me and when that doesn’t work you try to shock me. I find it a shame that you English can’t just talk to someone. Just because I have breasts doesn’t make me an idiot. I am good for more than just spreading my legs for you to find some relief and bearing children as a wife.”
“Who said I wanted to marry you?” His scorn scathed her. His anger made him foolish with his words.
She continued on with no response to his ridicule. “But I guess that is what happens when you all marry into the family. It was called incest way back when and over here it is still called that today.
“I suggest that you
come to terms with the fact that I am not going to simper over you just because you are a beautiful man. We have all winter to spend here and I am not going to do this every day. If you wish to rant and rave some more, go ahead. I will stand here and take it but when dinner is ready, you are done. This attitude of yours will cease. If not, you can leave. You can leave and fend for yourself.”
The impact of her words poured over him like ice. He realized he would never have done that in England. He had never been so rude—regardless of her status in the world, she was still a woman and deserved some respect. Not even to his stepmother had he ever behaved in such a manner. She just made him so angry. She didn’t seem upset by it—she felt sorry for him. That struck him deeper than her hurt ever could. He turned away from her and went back to the fire. After tossing on more wood, he sat and played with Kosse.
* * * *
Lucien saw her leave the room, and as Faolan followed her and Kosse followed Faolan, he found himself alone. Just like in England. He had two friends in the world and this woman. This remarkable woman was offering him a chance to find out who he really was and all he did was hurt her.
He gripped the cane and when he felt the carvings he took the time to look at it. Its detail staggered. It was made of cedar and the wolves ran up the side. The top was a wolf silhouette that had been lacquered over to keep it smooth to the touch. A cane like this would be very hard to acquire for cheap in England.
Lucien rose and set the table for the two of them. He placed a candle that he had found in the center and lit it. Since he didn’t know how long the food needed to be in the oven, he just headed for the doorway of her room.
He knocked on the doorframe and received a growl in response. He stuck his head in and saw her on her bed as she stared off into space. “Ciara?”
Eyes that shimmered with unshed tears looked at him. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Sorry.” She slid off her bed and walked to the door. He didn’t move.
“That isn’t what I came to say. I came to apologize.” She kept her head down as Faolan and Kosse slipped past them to the main part of the cabin.
Hesitating a bit, he reached out a hand and tipped up her chin. She met his gaze straight on. No hesitation, no false tears, no cry for sympathy. Just a direct gaze that hit him smack in the heart. Even in her own room she wouldn’t allow tears to fall. She was so proud. His princess had a will of iron. His.
“I want, no, I need to apologize to you. You were right about what you said.” A grin flashed across his face as he tried to lighten the mood. “Except about that incest thing. I have a request to make of you. Will you help me plan a stable?”
“I don’t know that much about stables. I have ideas, but I am no expert on it.”
“Please. Help me.”
She searched his eyes. “I will offer what I can.”
“Thank you.” A grin, huge, spread across his face. He drew one finger up her jaw and his gaze became hesitant like he remembered something. “I set the table and even found a candle.” He turned away from her and hurried back to the chair by the fire as if he didn’t trust himself with her that close.
After grace had been given, he waited for her to look at him once more.
“Will you serve, Wolf?”
“’Twould be my honor.”
He cut off a chunk of the succulent rabbit and placed it on her plate before he served himself some. There was thick gravy that swam with vegetables. She had made some biscuits that released steam when opened. They were so warm and fluffy when he broke them open.
He nearly groaned with pleasure as he ate. She did wonderful things with food—even though it was plain fare, the spices were outstanding. It was not like home where it was creamed peas and other rich food, like pheasant, served on gilded plates. This food was for people who worked hard during the day and needed something to sustain them. Not for the life of dancing until the wee hours of the morning and sleeping until dusk.
She brought him a cobbler of some sort for dessert and he had coffee with it. Full and content, he helped her clean up and wash the dishes. When they were finished, he took her by the hand and asked, “Do you have some paper I can have?”
Without a word, she went to get one of her father’s empty ledgers and a pencil. He settled in at the table and was working on sketches and long-term plans in no time. Ciara grabbed another item of his clothing that she was still fixing and sat in a chair by the fire as she sewed.
Chapter Nine
They sat in a companionable silence for over an hour. Lucien glanced up and found his gaze straying to the woman by the fire. She sewed something that resembled his breeches. She worked tirelessly and when she was done, she rose silently and let the two animals outside for a bit.
The wind howled and she grabbed the oversized jacket. She slipped her feet into the boots he had worn and went out with them. She looked like the bear that attacked him. Lucien put down the pencil then started some water on to heat for tea. He smiled as he gazed over at his sketches and plans.
It was good. He had something he wanted to do. She was right. It would be his, not his father’s. He made her some tea and went to the door. When it opened, a snowy wolf ran in, trailed by a small snow-dusted kitten. A snow-covered woman who was shivering followed both of them.
He held out the tea to her as he took her coat. “Here. Drink this.”
“Th-th-thank you. It is cold out there.”
“Looks that way. Come sit here, I want to show you what I have so far.” He herded her toward the table.
“Bring it to the fire. I’m cold.”
Lucien picked up the papers as he followed her to the thick animal pelt that was on the floor before the fire. Ciara flopped down on her belly on the fur. Lucien swallowed as her firm butt was exposed to his rakish gaze. He laid himself next to her, allowing his leg to press against her firm one. He spread out the papers he had been working on.
Ciara held on to her tea as she looked over his ideas for stables. She pointed out some that she liked and others she didn’t. As she perused the drawings, she spoke. “Thank you for the tea. It hit the spot.”
Lucien grinned as if he had been named a hero for saving her life. He found that he craved her praise, her words of encouragement. The earlier incident was over. She had not held a grudge against what he had said and things were once again friendly between them. If that had happened in London, he would have had to spend money to soothe an irate mistress’s feathers.
“I like this, this and that one.” She moved them closer to him. “All seem good ideas to me and good if one is starting out small. I like the designs of the barns and the training areas. The others are good, but I don’t see you in them. They seem to be colder. I envision your father when I look at these based on how you spoke of him.”
She pushed herself up and stood. “I have some other things that need my attention. Can I get you anything while I am up? Coffee? Tea?”
When he rose after her and headed to the table, he muttered, “Coffee.” He was already absorbed back into his plans. She grinned as she made him a cup and set it in the middle of the table so he wouldn’t knock it over.
Ciara went to her room and checked on her drying herbs. She put them into containers and pouches before she picked up more things that needed to be sewed. She had almost finished a quilt for Marie. It was a slow process but she was almost done. All she needed to do was tie it. That could be finished tonight. She carried the heavy quilt out to the room and settled herself back down in the chair.
Three hours later, Ciara found herself exhausted. The quilt had been tied off, after months of work. She was still not caught up on the sleep she had lost from when she had nursed him back to health. She turned her head to glance at the object of her thoughts. He remained bent over the table making slash marks with the pencil as he worked on his ideas.
He was on the mend. His hair shone with health instead of hanging listless and dull. His skin was back to the golden color she knew it would
be. He was not tired and his fracture seemed to have healed just fine. He was a strong man. He was not lean and wiry. He was big and muscular. His shoulders were broad, arms were well-defined as was his chest and stomach. His waist was narrow. He was a very good-looking man.
He had full lips, which as she knew were very nice to kiss. His eyes were piercing and she often found herself drowning in them when he looked at her. Thick lashes, that seemed a sin to be on a man, framed those eyes. His nose was slightly bent, as if it had been broken in a fight. His hands were large with long fingers that she knew could be gentle or, if provoked, cause serious damage.
“Like what you see?” The amused voice broke into her perusal of his body.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, full of male arrogance. He was beautiful and he knew it—and knew that she knew it. “Yes.” She spoke plain and honest while she hoped she was not blushing.
The animals made a quick trip and she was back in no time. “Goodnight, Wolf.”
“Goodnight, princess.”
* * * *
The storm woke Lucien in the middle of the night. He got up to put more wood on the fire when he heard it. Whimpers. Thinking maybe Kosse needed to go out, he lit the lantern. Kosse was nowhere to be seen.
The whimper came again. He carried the lantern and headed for the room where Ciara slept. As he stopped in the doorway, light reflected off the eyes of Faolan who watched his every move.
Lucien held up the lantern as he peered into the room. Ciara cried in her sleep while she tossed and turned. He stepped in but kept one eye on Faolan who stared at him with an intensity that was unnerving. Still the wolf did not stop his entrance into the room.
He set the lantern on the dresser in the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ciara. Ciara, wake up.” She moaned some more and began to whimper. Lucien snuck one last look at the wolf and he saw that he had put his head down on his paws, but those eyes were still watchful, ever vigilant.
