by T. A. White
Fallon lifted the cup and took a drink, looking at her over the rim the entire time.
Shea gathered the courage to ask, “So you’ve caught me, what do you intend to do with me?”
He took another sip and then put the cup down only to pick up another and pour some wine into that. He offered it to her, and when she blinked dumbly at it, he set it on the table next to him before picking his cup back up.
The silence unnerved Shea as did his steady, unwavering gaze.
She held her tongue as the silence grew, determined not to ask again. That would make her seem unsure and possibly desperate. Some instinct told her that was a dangerous thing to be in front of this man.
He set his glass next to him and crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps thrown into sharp relief, as he ran his eyes thoughtfully over her.
“Tell me what happened once you escaped Darius,” he finally said. “How did you end up a scout?”
“Why?”
He snorted before smiling lethally at her. “That is not what I want to hear.”
That smile, those words. Pushing him right now would end badly for her.
“I was being chased by your men so I hid in a tent where I stole some clothes, cut my hair and rubbed a dark oil in it to disguise its color.” She stopped and watched as he settled himself in a chair. He gestured for her to continue. “I never made it out of camp. Eamon spotted me as I was trying to slip past your sentries and assumed I was a scout because of my clothes. We ran into trouble on that first mission, and I was able to help. After that, well you know the rest.”
“Why did you stay with them? I’m sure you had plenty of opportunity to leave.”
She shrugged. “Meant to. Just never did.”
“And now you’re here.”
His gaze was inscrutable as the silence fell between them. Shea was beginning to settle. With every moment that passed where nothing bad happened, she began to believe her unmasking wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe the only reason he’d chased her was because she kept running.
The distrust with which she had regarded him since their first meeting had faded sometime in the past few months. As conquerors go, he wasn’t the blood thirsty savage the Lowlanders painted him as. He kept his men in check. And, while there was plenty of looting and pillaging, there wasn’t the raping there would have been had another man been in charge.
In all these months, Shea had never heard even a whisper of him forcing someone to his bed. Oh there were plenty of women in it. Just, they were all there voluntarily. Even some Lowland girls. So the rumors went.
He was honorable. To an extent. As long as the villages he conquered obeyed the rules he set in place and didn’t try to get out of paying their tithes, he dealt fairly with them. If they didn’t, well, nobody wanted to go the way of Edgecomb.
“Did your men know you were a woman?”
Shea started and said forcefully, “No!”
He arched one eyebrow and ran his eyes down her figure, telling her clearly he didn’t believe that for a moment.
Stung, she glared. “You didn’t realize I was a woman either. Not last night and not when we were dealing with the revenants.”
Of course he also hadn’t dealt with her closely day in and day out for months.
The guys might have suspected something was off but hadn’t asked, and she certainly hadn’t told.
He surveyed her from under half closed eyes. She folded her arms across her chest.
The question of what was to be done with her hung unspoken in the air.
“Trenton,” he called.
A moment later Trenton walked into the room. He must have been standing right outside the whole time.
“Watch her. Don’t take your eyes off her. Not even for a moment.”
Fallon stood and strode out of the tent without a backwards glance.
Trenton surveyed her before pouring himself and her a glass of water out of a pewter carafe. He picked up the cups and made his way over to where she was standing frozen.
She watched him come, unable to act one way or the other. He frowned and then held out one of the glasses. She took it and then just held it as she watched him warily.
“You should drink,” he told her. “Then you should eat.”
It was good advice, and she found herself lifting the glass and taking a long gulp. The cool water slid down her throat. She savored the feeling before forcing herself to take a seat at the table where she fixed herself a plate and ate mechanically. It tasted good. A feast fit for a king.
Trenton let her eat in silence for which she was grateful. It did, however, leave her entirely too much time to think and worry.
Fallon watched the entrance of his tent as if it held the answer to a mystery that had been plaguing him for months. The scout, Shane. No, Shea. Even now he could scarcely believe the deception she had pulled on not just him but most of his army as well.
A part of him was beyond furious and wanted to make a painful example of her as a warning of what happened when someone deceived him. Another part, this one larger, admired the ingenuity and strength that allowed her to hide in plain sight. What better place to seek shelter than in the very stronghold of the enemy.
After those first few days, none of his men had even thought of continuing to search within their own army for the woman.
It was madness. It was brilliance. And now he had to decide what to do with her.
Now she was in his grasp, and he was just as confounded as before. He didn’t like it.
“I never imagined she would be hiding right under our noses all this time,” Darius mused from his side.
Fallon grunted.
“It’s rather genius. You have to admit.”
“No doubt the clan heads have already begun to spread this story.” Darius continued the one sided conversation, used to the way Fallon got when he was trying to figure out the answer to a problem. “Bunch of gossips that group is. Worse than a gaggle of women.”
By nightfall, the story of the female scout would be all over camp.
Fallon really ought to make an example of her. If it wasn’t for the fact she had saved his life twice and looked so damn delicate, he would have.
“What are you going to do?”
Fallon gave Darius a dark look.
“You have no idea, do you?” Darius said softly as he watched Fallon disappear into his tent.
Fallon gave a sharp nod to Trenton. The man nodded back and excused himself quickly, leaving the two alone. Fallon loomed over Shea half surprised to find her where he’d left her.
She looked peaceful in sleep. She rubbed her chin against the hand under her cheek as if she was snuggling down for the night. She’d curled up in one corner of the room on a pile of rugs.
Her face was bonier than the first time he’d seen her. Her wrists were too. It wouldn’t take much strength to snap them. It was hard to imagine she had the ability to keep up with a scouting party, much less have the strength to free him from a spinner web.
She was much shorter than the shortest Trateri. Even the women were several inches taller than her. She was slimmer too, lacking the muscled bulk of the women he was used to. Despite her slender limbs and bony features, he still couldn’t understand how he had ever thought her a boy.
There was a fine boned femininity about her face. Her lips were full and kissable and when he looked closer he could see the curves of the hips and thighs she tried to hide with loose clothes.
No, when looking now, it was nearly impossible to see how she had hidden for so long in their very camp.
It was inconceivable, enraging and not to be tolerated.
He could have her whipped in front of his men. That would set a nice example. If he did that, however, it might make her hesitant to bed him.
He could force her.
Like hell.
He had never had to force a woman in his life. They came to him. Begged to be let into his bed and protested when he ordered th
em to leave when he was finished.
No, she’d come to him of her own will. That meant physical punishment was out.
He couldn’t let this insult go, though. He’d be a laughing stock in front of the men and sooner or later the clan heads would use it as an excuse to try to force him from his position. It wouldn’t work just as their last attempt hadn’t, but in the meantime, it would be tedious to deal with.
He reached down and carefully lifted her. She slept through the transition, settling into his arms more firmly. His chest tightened at the sensation before he pushed it away and headed to the bed chamber. He needed to think on her punishment. It wouldn’t do to rush these things. No, the punishment would have to be perfect.
Shea felt warm and comfortable as she drifted up from sleep. When had they gotten such comfortable mattresses in the scouts’ transient tents? It had been so long since she’d slept on a decent mattress. Months, at least.
She stretched and rolled onto her stomach. Or tried to at least. An iron band around her chest kept her pinned on her side
Lifting her head, she looked blearily down her body, coming more awake at the sight of a bronzed arm wrapped around her ribs, right under her breasts. A muscled leg was thrown over hers.
All traces of sleep fell away, and she put her head back down as she cursed silently. She ran through her memories of the previous day. Fallon had discovered her identity. For someone who seemed hell bent on capturing her, he hadn’t been that pleased when she turned up right under his very nose.
He’d left her to her own devices for hours. The afternoon had fallen into night and driven by a stomach that hadn’t seen much food in the past few days, Shea had finally eaten some of the meal. Fed, her body had decided it was time to catch up on rest. She’d curled up on some rugs as they were the softest surface in the tent besides the bed in the personal chambers, and she wasn’t getting near that.
Shea examined the fur covering her and looked around. She recognized the furnishings from her visit yesterday.
Well, just because he had carried her to bed didn’t mean she had to stay there. She shifted carefully under the weight of his limbs as she started edging toward freedom.
“Trying to escape again?” a deep voice rumbled next to her ear.
She froze.
His arms tightened, bringing her body more firmly against his. Her face burned as a very firm body part nudged her ass. She tested his hold but gave up quickly when his arm and leg didn’t budge.
“Not very talkative this morning, are you?” his amused voice asked. “I’m sure we can find other things to fill our time.”
One thumb caressed the side of her breast, leaving no question as to his meaning.
Shea found her voice quickly. “Is this how you treat all the people who save your life?”
“Of course not.” He bit her ear gently and a shiver worked its way down her body. “Just the tiny, delicate ones who think they can disguise themselves as a boy.”
“So you need rescuing a lot, then? Your poor army. It’s a wonder they ever managed to conquer the Lowlands if they always have to worry about your safety.”
Shea could have bitten her tongue at those words. She didn’t know what possessed her, but whenever she was around him the filter that normally existed between her brain and mouth seemed to disappear.
His arms tightened around her momentarily before his chuckle rumbled against her back.
“What do you plan to do with me?” Shea asked sharply.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
It was difficult to keep her concentration on the conversation at hand when his fingers were drawing maddening symbols on the shirt covering her belly. It was distracting. She wished they could have this conversation in slightly different circumstances. Maybe when they weren’t touching. Preferably with an entire room between them.
One of his large hands drifted up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. She was beginning to get the unsettling idea of what he wanted. He’d have a fight on his hands if that was the case.
“Would you stay with me? Be my Tolroi?”
A gentle kiss dropped on the side of her neck. Shea shivered as lightning arched across her skin.
Through suddenly dry lips, she said, “Your mistress, you mean?”
The Trateri didn’t marry, not in the sense the Lowlanders and Highlanders did. They didn’t often see the point in tying themselves to only one person for the rest of their lives, instead preferring one night liaisons for the most part. Occasionally though, one would choose a partner, a Telroi, who would bare their children and share their tent on a more permanent basis. More often they took a Tolroi. In the Lowlands, the closest equivalent would be a mistress. It was often a more temporary relationship then a Telroi.
Either position was considered a great honor. Doubly so when the man offering was the Trateri’s Hawk himself. Shea didn’t want to be honored. She just wanted to be left alone to do her job.
“That is a Lowlander term,” Fallon growled behind her.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t-“ Shea couldn’t think of a polite way to decline. “I just want to be a scout.”
“I’m afraid that path is closed to you.”
She huffed. Because of him. Because she’d saved his ass. Again.
She held her body stiffly, making it clear she wanted to be anywhere but in his arms. His sigh ruffled her hair and slid across her skin.
His arms loosened, and Shea rolled out of them, not giving him a chance to change his mind. She spun to face him after standing. His head was propped on one hand, his gaze a physical brand on her.
“Since you refuse to be my Tolroi, you’ll continue in the role I originally planned for you.”
He didn’t mean—
The slightly smug expression on his face said he did. Shea had never stomped her foot before in her life, but right at that moment she came close.
“You want me to be your personal guard?” Her voice rose slightly on the last word.
His lips tilted up in a roguish grin. Son of a misbegotten revenant, he did.
“Why?”
The grin fell from his lips, leaving the ruthless warlord behind. Shea stepped away from the fierce expression. This was the man who had burnt Edgecomb and several other villages to the ground and then salted the earth. Those places had been devastated to the point where nothing would grow for years. In another generation nobody would even know they’d existed, such was the devastation he had wrought.
“Because it’s what I want.”
And there was the rub. This entire army revolved around his whims. If he wanted to camp in the middle of a river, they’d figure out a way to make it happen.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat, and her eyes dropped to the ground
“Trenton is waiting outside to run you through what is expected of you,” Fallon said.
Shea nodded and moved towards the door. His voice brought her up short.
“You’re known to many soldiers now. Trying to disguise yourself as a boy to escape won’t work again. If you try to run, I will have the three other men in your team stripped, flogged and then dragged behind the army until we next make camp.”
Shea was frozen in place. Horror gripped her by the throat as she numbly turned back to him.
“Why?” she whispered. “They had nothing to do with this.”
His face was a mask of stone and his eyes darkened dangerously as he said, “You know the answer to that.” She swallowed hard. “Eamon figured out you were a woman on your first mission. Buck took longer, but he’s known for a while too. Neither one came forward. That would be reason enough to have them punished.”
They had known? Shea’s world tilted. They had known this entire time and hadn’t said anything.
“I am sparing them because they saved my life and because they make a good incentive for you not to disappear again. You obviously care for them, or you wouldn’t have stayed so long.”
She looked
at him from beneath lowered eyelashes. He was right, damn him. She wouldn’t be going anywhere with that threat over her head. They probably wouldn’t escape with her either. For them, these people were home.
All of her barely formed plans crumpled around her. There would be no waiting for the right moment. No great escape. She was well and truly caught.
Her mouth firmed into a tight, thin line. Icily, she asked, “If that is all?”
His lips quirked in an acknowledgment of having won this battle, and he raised one hand to flick his fingers at her in dismissal. “For now.”
She ground her teeth in annoyance and batted the door flap out of her way. Vexing bastard. He may have won this round, but she’d find some way out of this. Eventually.
Chapter Nineteen
Shea stormed out of the tent into the sunshine. Though it was bright and nearly blinding, she didn’t squint or shield her eyes until they adjusted, as she would have normally. She was too mad for that.
“Guardsman.”
The encampment that had seemed so huge suddenly felt stifling. She wanted out. To walk into the great beyond until there was not another soul for hundreds of miles. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel as if her skin was too tight for her body.
People. God, people. Men especially.
“Guardsman Shea.”
Stupid, stupid man. She had saved him when he was helpless in a spinner’s web. If she had left him there, he would have been sucked down like a man sized drink of water. But did he thank her? Nooo. He threatened her, tried to fit her inside a little box.
“Shea,” a voice yelled right next to her ear.
“What?” she snapped back, thinking better of it when she met Caden’s irate gaze.
She gulped and quickly rearranged her scowl into some semblance of a pleasant expression. Judging by the way his mouth turned down, she didn’t think he appreciated her effort.
Shea took a deep breath and then released it slowly. This man could make her very miserable for the foreseeable future. It paid to get on his good side.
“I apologize, sir. I didn’t hear you calling.”
