“Everything I want is right here,” she whispered.
Logan gazed into her eyes. He had been a fool. Why couldn’t he see how much? God’s blood! he thought. Let her live and I swear I’ll give up my quest for revenge. Just let her live.
She lifted a hand to touch her bandaged forehead. “My head is pounding.”
“He hit you pretty hard,” Logan said.
“Did you get him?” Solace asked.
Logan nodded. “You’re all right now. Everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry. Just rest. I’ll tell you everything later.”
Solace nodded, struggling to keep her eyes open.
His attention was drawn to her mouth as her tongue slipped out to wet her full lips. He found himself leaning forward to taste those lips, to see if they were as sweet as he remembered. He shook himself. She is wounded! he thought. And still I find myself incapable of breaking the spell she casts over me. Logan stood up unsteadily. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
He stood and moved to the door. He gripped the handle and opened it a fraction of an inch before pausing. A tingling sensation shot through his body and he turned. Solace was gazing at him with a wistful expression. Her large luminescent eyes shone brighter than the sun, calling to him.
In the next instant, he was beside her. She stared up at him, breathlessly. She lifted her hand, reaching out to him.
Logan captured her fingers in his. He bent, gently scooping her up in his arms and eased himself into the bed, delicately pulling her against him so her head was pillowed on his chest. He rubbed his cheek against her head as she settled against him.
He felt the heated length of her along his body and knew there would be no sleep for him this night.
Within moments, Logan sensed the steady breathing of a deep sleep as Solace drifted off into a healing slumber. Still, selfishly, he held her against his heart and waited until the sun began to peek over the horizon, waited until there was no time left and Beatrice would soon enter the room. Only then did he slide slowly from beneath Solace, being careful not to wake her.
He stared down at her for a long moment. She had curled into the warmth of the spot he had just vacated. Her soft face was peaceful, worry free. He rubbed his tired eyes. He needed to get something to eat, but he was reluctant to leave her.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Logan opened the door to see Ryder standing in the dark corridor just outside the room.
“How is she?” Ryder inquired.
“Better,” Logan replied. He stepped aside, allowing Ryder entrance into the room, and closed the door behind him. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for stopping that bastard.”
“You don’t have to,” Ryder answered, his stare settling on Solace.
Logan extended his arm. “I do,” he told him sincerely. “It means a lot to me.”
Ryder clasped Logan’s arm, gripping it tightly. For a moment, their eyes met. It triggered a memory in Logan’s mind. A memory of Ryder sitting atop his horse in the field while the killer headed toward Solace.
Ryder dropped his arm and turned back to Solace. “It’s been a long night,” he said. “Go get something to eat. I’ll stay and watch her.”
A prickling of anxiety snaked its way up Logan’s spine. He dropped his gaze and something in Ryder’s belt caught his attention. The flowered handle of a dagger.
Ryder put a hand on Logan’s shoulder, jarring Logan’s thoughts. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’ll stay with her. Beatrice will be here in a moment to change her dressing anyway. Go get something to eat and come back.”
Logan nodded. He was being foolish. Ryder was a friend. He had saved her life, after all. Solace would be safe with him for a few moments. Again he nodded and headed for the door. As his hand closed over the handle, he turned back to cast a glance at Solace. She will be fine with Ryder, he told himself, and quietly closed the door behind him.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Logan stood for a long moment outside Solace’s door, his fingers curled around the handle, his head bent. He didn’t like leaving Solace. Not even with Ryder.
Ryder. He remembered him sitting in the saddle atop his horse, while the other man went after Solace with a dagger. Logan shook his head. You’re being overly suspicious, he thought. Not everyone is out to kill her, even if she is Farindale’s daughter.
Logan released the door handle and moved away from the room, forcing himself to descend the steps. He was indeed very hungry and very weary. A few bites of food would give him some strength back. When he reached the Great Hall, he paused, his gaze scanning the room. It was empty and Logan realized it was still very early.
Why had Ryder been up? Logan wondered. He sat heavily on a wooden bench, every one of his bones aching. Then his gaze drifted up the stairs toward Solace’s room. But instead of Solace’s image, the picture of a flowered-handled dagger came to his mind. The dagger had been tucked into Ryder’s belt. Logan knew he had seen it somewhere before. He looked down at the rushes on the floor. But where?
Suddenly, he shot to his feet with such force he knocked over the wooden bench. He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and practically knocked the door down in his hurry to enter Solace’s room.
One of Ryder’s hands was clamped around Solace’s neck. The other held the gold-tipped dagger, its blade reflecting the warming red rays of the rising sun and spitting them back into the room in glaring slivers of blood red light. An image flashed through Logan’s mind - the dagger glinting in the dirt of the courtyard near the mews of Castle Fulton. The dagger Graham had attacked Solace with! He hadn’t meant to rape her, but to kill her.
Ryder lifted his head at the sudden interruption, snapping it toward Logan’s violent entrance. Solace’s small hands pulled at the thick fingers Ryder had around her neck, a choking gasp coming from her parted lips.
Logan launched himself at Ryder, driving his head and shoulder into Ryder’s stomach, the force throwing both men over the side of the bed. The dagger clattered away across the room as they hit the floor hard. Logan quickly rolled to his feet, crouching before the bed like a panther ready to spring.
“Don’t be a fool, Grey,” Ryder said, breathing heavily. “She’s worth more dead than alive.”
“Who sent you?” Logan demanded.
“She’s your enemy,” Ryder added.
“No. You are,” Logan snarled and swung his tightly balled fist, connecting solidly with Ryder’s jaw. The force of the blow hurled Ryder backward, and his foot caught on the edge of a chest sitting at the foot of the bed. He twisted his body, trying to get his balance, but his head smashed into the bedpost with a sickening crack. He dropped like a stone to the floor.
Logan straddled Ryder’s body, grabbing his tunic roughly, pulling Ryder’s head up toward him. He curled his fingers into a fist. “Who sent you?” he demanded again. He raised his fist high, ready to strike. But then he lowered his hand.
He knew Ryder wasn’t going to tell him anything. Not ever again. The wide, glassy stare of his eyes was testament to that. Disgusted, Logan shoved Ryder’s head back to the floor and quickly turned his attention to Solace.
She sat up in bed, touching the raw, red finger marks on her neck.
Logan moved to the bed, sitting down beside her. He took Solace’s chin in his fingers and turned it to him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, leaning into Logan. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the protectiveness of his embrace. Her arms wrapped around him with a surprising strength, and she clung to him.
The door swung open and William and Uncle Hugh rushed in, their eyes widening with alarm as they spotted Ryder’s dead body.
Logan met their disturbed gazes over Solace’s head. Cavindale was no longer safe for the lady and the falconer.
***
Solace spent most of the next week resting in bed. Every few hours, William came to see if she needed a
nything. Beatrice fussed about her like a mother hen throughout the day. Even Uncle Hugh came by to grunt his approval of her progress. Logan was constantly with her, watching her with that unnerving and exciting dark gaze. But it was always from a distance. Logan stayed well away from her, usually gazing pensively out the window.
On the fourth day, he again took his customary stance at the window, his face as troubled as his spirit.
Solace sat up in her bed, anxiously devising ways to escape the cage her bed had become.
Logan turned to her and asked suddenly, “Why would those men want to kill you?”
Startled, Solace met his gaze. “I don’t know,” she replied.
He removed a gold-tipped, flower-handled dagger from his belt and displayed it to Solace.
“That’s Beth’s!” she said immediately. “Where did you find it?”
Logan replaced it in his belt. “Ryder had it.”
Solace frowned. “How? Where did he get it?”
She studied Logan’s serious expression and the implication of his words sank in. “You don’t think Beth...” Solace shook her head doubtfully. “She would know even less about hiring mercenaries than I do.”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, but Solace saw the disagreement in his eyes.
He moved to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Solace nodded, but was lost in her own thoughts. Could Beth have wanted her dead? Would she actually hire a mercenary to kill her? Then Logan’s tale came back to her. Back at Castle Fulton, he had heard two people plotting to kill her. Had one of them been Beth? But why? Why would she want her dead?
Miserable, Solace looked toward the door, searching for the comfort Logan always instilled in her. At the sight of it closed, she realized suddenly that she was alone. Alone for the first time since she had been hurt! She flung the covers aside and stood. Swarms of black dots swam before her eyes. She steadied herself on the table beside the bed, waiting for the dizzy spell to fade. She hadn’t been out of bed for four days. She wanted to get up and run or ride a horse! She settled for carefully walking the length of the room. She enjoyed the movement, the stretching of her muscles.
A shaft of sunlight on the floor caught her attention. Hungrily, her eyes followed it to the shutters. Her face lit with joy as she practically ran to them and threw them open. The sun streamed into the room, and Solace turned her face to its warm light, letting it bathe her cheeks.
“Must I always stand guard over you?”
Solace whirled to find Logan in the open doorway.
“Back into bed,” he commanded.
She cast a glance at the bed and scowled, then looked at Logan. When his eyes locked with hers, a bolt rocked her body.
Swiftly he crossed the room to stand before her. He lifted his hands toward her, and Solace couldn’t help but gasp in expectation. Without a word, he reached around her to close the shutters.
Disappointment speared her body like an arrow. He was close to her, closer than he had been in days. So close that his arms brushed her shoulders. With that simple touch, her senses flared to life, a tingling awareness filling her body. When he shifted his eyes to her, his hot silver gaze melted her insides.
His look moved over her face, taking in every line, every curve. He barely touched her body with his, but the heat radiating from him scorched her.
“How do you feel?” he asked in a husky voice.
“What?” she inquired through a groggy haze.
“Your head,” he said, reaching out to smooth some hair over the bandage. “How is it?”
“Fine,” Solace answered, a twinge of sadness pulling at her heart. She dropped her gaze to the floor. He was only concerned with her wounds, when all she wanted him to do was kiss her. Just one kiss, she thought miserably. Just one. But even as she thought it, she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
His fingers smoothed a rebellious curl near her cheek, but as soon as he released it, it sprang to life, entwining itself around his finger.
His hand was so close to her face, his fingers mere inches from her skin. Desperate for the feel of his skin against hers, Solace rubbed her cheek against his fingers. His hand froze and Solace pressed a kiss into his open palm.
She closed her eyes tightly, reveling in the brief feeling of his skin against hers, his warmth touching her.
Suddenly, his arms were around her, pulling her tight against the length of his steel-hard body. His lips pressed on hers in a frenzy of reckless wanting. The heat from his mouth claimed her body, and she felt a stirring in the bottom of her stomach. She parted her lips as a groan escaped from them, and Logan’s tongue gently stroked the inner portion of her mouth, tasting her.
He pressed his lips against the wound on her forehead, trailing a line of kisses down her cheek to her jaw.
She wrapped her arms around his back, marveling at the strength hidden beneath the tunic he wore. Her fingers traced the hard muscles of his shoulders as the kiss deepened.
His hand moved up her body to cup her breast, gently squeezing it. His thumb circled her nipple, teasing it to hardness, until she groaned with need.
“Logan?” The voice came from just outside the door.
Instantly, Solace pulled away from Logan. He looked at her with a gentle grin on his lips.
Uncle Hugh entered the room, and Logan turned to him with none of the embarrassment Solace was feeling. “Ah!” Uncle Hugh said when he saw Solace out of bed. “You’re feeling better. Then come and eat! A good meal cures any ill!”
Logan glanced at Solace, and she could see there was promise in his eyes. But promise of what? she wondered.
“I’ll send Beatrice up to help Solace dress,” Uncle Hugh said, seizing Logan’s shoulder. “I’ll take this rascal with me.”
Logan cast a last look at Solace before Hugh pulled him out the door. Solace raised a hand to her lips. They were still wet from Logan’s kiss.
***
Solace stared at Logan’s hands as he moved them over the map of Castle Fulton. They were strong and sure and... What was she doing? He was explaining the secret passages to her, yet all she could think about was the power in those hands, the gentle way he had touched her, his heated caresses. They had eaten dinner with dozens of others, but Logan seemed to only have eyes for her. And she for him. She had felt like a young girl enamored of a famous knight. He had even given her a stare that sent a flush of heat to her cheeks, a stare so hot she had been certain her face was going to burst into flames from the torrid look. Just thinking of it now made her body all warm and tingly.
She turned her gaze up to his face. His brow was set with concentration; his gaze darted from spot to spot on the map, giving Solace only a teasing glimpse at their steel-gray magnificence. She barely noticed the black X on his cheek; it had become so much a part of him. She watched his mouth moving as he spoke and thought of another movement it had made, the way he had stroked her own lips with his. Gently, she ran a tongue over her lips, but could not re-create the feel of their heated kiss. Only his lips could do that.
When he swung his gaze up to hers she realized he had asked her a question. She looked away from him and found Alexander and Blade’s gazes were on her, too. They had joined her and Logan after dinner to discuss possible plans for retaking Fulton. Now that winter was upon them, they had time to make a detailed attack plan for the spring. She bowed her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t hear the question.”
“You must be tired,” Blade said sympathetically.
She nodded and lifted her eyes to find an amused smile on Logan’s lips. She turned back to Blade. “Yes,” she agreed. “It has been an eventful day.”
Alexander folded up the map. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”
“Good night, Solace,” Blade called as she turned toward the stairs.
She bid him a good night and made her way up the steps. She felt Logan’s eyes on her as she went, and finally had to turn and cast him a glance.
He stoo
d near the table, a heated look on his face. She couldn’t resist gazing at him. His body was turned to her, his large chest bidding her to come and rest her head on it, his strong arms bidding her to come and be held, his hypnotizing lips bidding her to come and be devoured. “Good night, Solace,” Logan called softly. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She forced a smile to her lips, hiding her disappointment, then turned away and went to her room.
***
Solace paced in front of her window late into the night. She had washed her face and body twice. She had changed into her nightdress, laid in bed and counted sheep. She had drunk a warm glass of goat’s milk. Despite everything she had tried, with every move she made she sensed the ghostly presence of Logan’s mouth against hers, the caress of his hands on her skin, until her body shook with the wanting of him. She would get no sleep tonight. She wanted to feel his kiss again, wanted him to...
She opened the door to find the hall was quiet. Slipping into the darkness, she moved through the Great Hall like a ghost. What are you doing? a voice questioned her. Where do you think you are going? She ignored the questions and moved on. She knew exactly what she was doing and exactly where she was going.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Solace opened the door to Cavindale Manor and an icy wind whirled past, seizing her in its grip, threatening to chill her to the bone. But her need warmed her against the cold. She raced across the yard and opened the barn door, stepping into the darkness of the building.
Her eyes searched frantically, desperately for Logan. Suddenly, as if her thoughts had magically conjured him from a mysterious realm, he appeared before her, sword in hand, standing tall and silent, ready for attack.
The moonlight washed over his strong chest, his muscular arms, painting his tanned flesh with a golden gloss. His dark hair fell just past his shoulders in a shimmering wave of black. His face was hidden in shadows, as was the lower part of his body. But his eyes were visible, a cloudy gray caught in a silver strand of moonlight.
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