“Get yer hands off me, Everett. If yer Lord hears word of this I have no doubt he will chastise ye fer it!”
“T’would be your word over mine lassie. Do you think he would listen to a woman?”
The cold truth of it was, he was right. No one would believe her. His loud chuckle was deafening. Moving his hand from her waist, he slid his palm over the thin fabric of her dress to her breast and pinched her nipple between his fingers. Fallon winced in pain. The harder she struggled, the tighter he held her.
“Let me go,” she cried out, thrashing in his arms.
Everett yanked the top of her dress down exposing her shoulder. Fallon turned her head away. His stench of alcohol and sweat gagged her. He began nuzzling her neck with his lips and tongue as his hands explored her body from outside her dress.
Fallon knew he did not intend to let her go. Not until he had his way with her, that she was certain. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, but she continued to fight.
“Yer hurting me,” she cried out as Everett twisted her arm behind her back to restrain her jabbing elbow.
Like a night shadow creeping in the darkness, Fallon saw a flicker of light cross the room.
“I dinna think the lady fancies yer advances.”
Rylan’s deep voice echoed throughout the small room. Surprised by the unexpected intruder, Everett’s grip on her loosened just enough for Fallon to leap from his arms and throw herself onto the floor.
Without warning, Rylan plunged his dagger into Everett’s throat. Fallon gasped and turned her head as blood came pouring out of the wound like a gushing stream. At the sound of a loud thud, Fallon turned back to see Everett’s dead body lying on the floor as Rylan wiped blood from his dagger with the end of Everett’s shirt.
Rylan stepped over the Englishman’s dead body as if he were no more than a stump on the ground. Fallon was shaken. Her breaths labored. Her mind replaying what could have happened. What almost did happen had Rylan not arrived when he had. Helping Fallon to her feet, Rylan stood in front of her. He looked her over and gently put his hands to either side of her face, tipping it up to his own so their eyes met.
“Are ye alright?” His voice was soft and deep.
Shaken by what had just happened, she remained speechless. Her eyes were drawn to the pooling blood on her floor, to the dead body.
“I said are ye alright?”
“Aye. I am fine, now that ye are here,” she replied, her voice shaking.
“Good. Stay here and lock the door. I will return shortly.”
Fallon nodded her head in response.
Rylan looked down at the dead Englishman and smirked. Letting out a breath, he easily lifted the man by the arms, and dragged him face down out the door. Rylan pulled the man’s body toward the edge of Fallon’s land, nearly eight hundred feet. Sweat beaded along his forehead. The bastard was heavy.
Rylan left his body near a tall oak tree, deep in the woods and headed back to the barn to grab a shovel. He chose a spot that appeared to be less traveled where the ground was soft.
Using the shovel, he began removing the topsoil until he’d dug a hole nearly four feet deep. Once the grave was dug, Rylan searched the man for anything of value or identity.
Removing the man’s belt, Rylan also removed his shoes as he could use the leather. Rylan rolled the man over as one would a barrel until he fell in. Kicking his feet so the man laid in the fetal position, he picked up the shovel, and began filling the hole.
Tossing the last scoop of dirt on top, Rylan made the man disappear as if he never existed. Spreading the disturbed soil around with the edge of his boot, he scattered twigs and brush over top to hide the grave. Someone may come looking for him, but Rylan made sure that no one would ever find him.
Chapter 9
Returning to the house, Rylan found Fallon kneeling on the floor, furiously wiping the blood from the floor to rid all evidence that Everett had died there. He quietly sat in the chair and watched her. Guilt-stricken, he had no words to comfort her. He did not want to think about what could have transpired had he been only a few minutes later.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, still kneeling on the floor, her head down and shoulders hunched.
Rylan leaned down from his chair and sat on the floor next to her. Lifting her chin, he smiled at her tear-stained face and gently smoothed his other hand over hair. He couldn’t stop its slight tremble.
“Ye are welcome. Where are Leoric and Braeden? Are they safe?”
“Aye. Leoric took Braedon to the market. They are no’ expected to return until tomorrow. I dinna expect ye to come back.”
“I promised ye I would. When I heard the English were heading this way, I was worried.”
“I am sorry I doubted ye. If ye hadn’t arrived when ye did, I…”
“Tis alright lass,” he said moving one hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear.
She trembled under his touch.
“Tis no alright. What am I going to do when they come looking fer him?”
“I promise, they will never find him.”
“And when they come back?”
“Then I shall stay a few days to make sure ye are safe.”
“Tis kind of ye, but we are no’ yer responsibility, Rylan.”
“Nay, but I am too involved now. I must ask ye, how did a lass end up out in the middle of nowhere with no clan protection? An unwed maiden should be protected, widow or no’.”
“How dare ye assume such things? I am no’ some spinster as ye may think and certainly no’ a widow.”
“Ye mistake my assumption for an accusation, lass. Tis ye who gave me that impression.”
“I was part of a clan once. But I find my life better suited away from politics and obligations.”
“That is no’ an answer,” he said, trying to pry open her Pandora ’s Box.
Fallon bit her lower lip, hesitant to answer. Nevertheless, what harm would come from telling?
“Montgomery.”
“Laird Duncan Montgomery, aye? I know him well. He is a good mon, and leads a grand army.”
“Ye know of him? He is my uncle, but I would no’ know of such things. My duties there did no’ involve clan politics.”
“Aye, I suppose they wouldn’t. What of yer parents?”
“My mother died when I was young. I was adopted by the Montgomery Clan. Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, standing up and snatching the medallion off the mantle. “Here. This is yers,” she said handing it to him.
“Thank ye.”
Since the attack, Rylan could see that Fallon’s disposition had drastically changed toward him. She no longer had her fierce sharp tongue, but revealed her softer, more feminine side. The side of a woman that could turn a man’s head. But Rylan was a man who had to resist her charms, and protect her from himself.
Rylan learned early on to never give a woman false hope. He had seen firsthand the results of a broken heart when he first left to join the king’s army as a young man. Her name was Abigail, and she had fallen deeply in love with Rylan, despite his flaws. She was a bonny lass, but Rylan was young and naïve.
While out on the battlefield, word had reached him that Abigail had fallen into a deep depression. Six weeks later, she died battling a lung ailment at the young age of sixteen summers and less than a week before he returned home. Rylan always wondered if he had been there, would his presence have somehow healed her? Her untimely demise, at the time, had weighed heavy on his shoulders. He blamed himself for being absent and causing her death. It was just another debt he could never repay.
“Did yer trip to Annandalego well? Had King James sent ye on some quest to sign a treaty with England?”
Rylan chuckled.
“No. I was given leave by the King to settle a personal matter with the Duke. Recently, I got into a dispute with Jamie Penwick, who happens to be the Sherriff of Yorkshire’s nephew, but it did not end well for him.”
“Ye killed him?”
“Aye, and f
or it, they issued a warrant for my arrest. It was the reason I traveled south in the first place. I went to request the Duke’s assistance by sending a letter to London to have them grant me a pardon. This is my second attempt to seek a pardon from London. The first futile attempt was denied as a result of improper documentation and witnesses to absolve me of the crimes.
Upon hearing Rylan’s story, it put him in a different light than Fallon’s initial impression of him. She had thought the Wolf was some sort of hired killer when actually he was just a man who was misunderstood. She felt safe now that he was there. She had not felt a comfort in a long time.
Sitting next to him on the floor, Fallon felt a pull, a sinful desire within to feel his touch and taste his lips upon hers again. It was as clear as ice that she was drawn to him. From the sparkling color of his eyes, to his smile, to the soothing sound of his voice, she felt mesmerized just being in his presence. But what if the attraction was all in her imagination? What if it was just a reaction to Everett’s attack and Rylan’s rescue? A moment’s lust and nothing more? Has my heart deceived me? What sort of relationship could they have even if she desired to pursue it? Rylan was a wanted man with secrets that matched her own. Could she risk loving him when she knew he might hate her when he learned their relationship was based on lies?
“Tell me about the Englishmen.”
“I’d prefer no’ to discuss matters of the English.”
“Oh nay, my lady. Ye are no’ getting out of this one. If I am to protect ye, I must know the truth of it. All of it. Who is it that I am protecting ye from?”
“His name is Nathanial,” she said in between sighs.
“Who is Nathanial?”
“He convinced me that if I offered him my hospitality he would, in exchange, offer his protection and allow me to keep my farm. He requires little tax and all he asks in return is fer me to provide him wit’ coin from the vegetables and grain I harvest. What other choice do I have? He’s an English Lord and I am bound to no clan who will protect me and my son.”
“I could no’ believe that yer clansmen would abandon ye and allow the English to govern ye and yer lands.”
“I have no choice. I…” Fallon stopped in mid-sentence. “Lord Blackwell and I have…an arrangement.”
Rylan froze at the mention of the name.
Holding the demons inside of him at bay, he asked, “What did ye call him?”
“Nathanial Blackwell. Lord of Castle Falstone.”
Blackwell.
A name Rylan had not heard since he was a wee lad had suddenly emerged from a cold grave. Flashbacks flooded his mind as old, forgotten memories resurfaced.
“That bastard had a son?”
Breaking out in a cold sweat, Rylan stood immediately. His palms felt clammy in his clenched fists.
“Is something wrong?” Fallon asked.
Rylan looked down at her and could see the sudden fear in her eyes.
“Tis nothing of concern,” he lied as he stepped outside for air.
Staring into nothingness, he wished Lord Blackwell would return. For nearly twenty years, he’d sought revenge against that family for what they had done to his mother, and now right in front of him was his chance to do just that.
Fallon joined him by his side.
“I dinna know what is troubling ye, but if I have said anything to upset ye…”
“Tis no’ ye, my Lady. I will stay and make sure ye are safe.”
“How long will ye be staying?”
“A few days until I can make arrangements.”
“What sort of arrangements?”
“Either arrange for someone who can properly protect ye, or convince ye to move.”
“This is my home, Rylan. And I will no’ be leaving.”
Chapter 10
“Avaline, your child is not welcome here. He is to remain in the village.”
“But he is just a wee lad. I cannae leave him alone.”
“Then send him to your family to raise. There is no place for him here nor will there ever be.”
Clinging to his mother, Rylan momentarily gazed at her. At the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks, Rylan angrily stared at Lord Alexander Blackwell.
“Quit your tears, woman! It will not appeal to my sympathy. Now take the boy and be gone with you.”
Avaline held Rylan close to her side as they exited the library. Rushing through the courtyard, she pulled him aside and kneeled before him. Adjusting his collar, she smiled up at him.
“Dinna ye worry, Love. I promise things will get better for both of us verra soon. We are to leave this place. And when we do, life as we know it will be wonderful. You’ll see. I am verra proud of ye, Rylan. I love ye.”
“I love ye too, Mama.”
Before the sun even rose, Rylan had been lying awake, too restless to sleep and haunted by dreams. He recalled his mother, Avaline, arguing with Alexander as if it were yesterday. That was the last time he had seen her alive. As memories flooded his mind, he was angry that he could recall every wrinkle on the old man’s face, but couldn’t even remember the color of his mother’s eyes. He had spent his life haunted by that man and he had nearly forgotten her completely. She only existed now in his dreams.
Rylan had not seen the countryside of Falstone since he was the wee age of seven summers. After the death of his mother, he ran as far north as he could until he found a group of Scottish clansmen that changed his life forever. It was when he met Laird MacKay and his commanding officer, Aldrich Arnett.
Aldrich took him in as a wee lad, no questions asked. It could not have been easy on him, caring for such a rebellious lad at the time. Lord knows, Rylan put up a good fight every now and then. But overall, Rylan had begun to respect and even love his new father for what he had done for him.
Aldrich taught him everything he knew from wielding a sword to battle tactics. Aldrich, after all, was one of the commanding officers for the Chieftain of Clan MacKay, a title now held by his good friend Ian. Over the years, Rylan had become close to his father but still chose not to share with him the burden of his own secretive past. Some things were meant to be left unsaid.
Rylan focused on the irony that he had just submitted a request for a pardon for killing one English Lord, and now he had spent the entire night planning to kill another. Had Ian been there as a voice of reason, Rylan knew he would try to talk him out of it. However, lucky for Rylan, Ian was not there. If killing off the Blackwell family was his lot in life, he would greet the Devil with glory.
For years, he blamed Blackwell for his mother’s death. He may not have been the man who did the deed, but Rylan knew that the order to do so came from him. And on that day, Rylan made a promise to his mother. He promised to honor her with Blackwell’s death. Now, his son Nathanial was continuing his reign.
Rylan dressed early and went out to continue working on the list Fallon had given him of things around the farm that needed to be fixed. He kept a watchful eye on the road leading to her small home. Rylan hoped that if he willed it enough, Nathanial would appear on the road. He wished for it, prayed for it, but his hope died quickly when he saw Leoric and Braeden coming up the road.
“Ye’ve been distracted today. I can see yer mind workin’,” Fallon commented.
Surprised by her presence, Rylan turned around to face her. In truth, he was distracted.
Fallon brushed her hair to the side with her hand. Her exposed neck looked as succulent as a juicy piece of fruit. Rylan had to fight the urge to lean down and taste her flesh. He wanted to kiss her, as hard and demandingly as he had last night. No matter how hard he tried to resist her, there was something about her that captivated him. Something he could not explain. Whatever it was, it made him want her in ways he never thought possible. But to be with her was impossible.
“I have been busy, nothing more,” he replied.
“If ye care fer something to eat, I can warm something up fer ye,” she offered.
“Thank ye, but I am fine.”
Fallon bit her lip as if she held something back. He took notice, but said nothing. Rylan knew he had been distant since his return and felt an apology was in order.
“I am almost finished here. I mean to cool off in the river if ye care to join me.”
“Alright.”
Rylan and Fallon headed down a beaten path through the trees towards the narrow river. The canopy provided cool shade, away from the burning sun. They walked side by side, their knuckles close, grazing along each other’s, but neither of them had the courage to reach out and hold the other’s hand.
“I am sorry if my behavior has been unpleasant. I am no used to talkin’ to someone about my…feelings,” Rylan said, forcing the words from his lips.
“It’s alright. I understand. I am sorry if I said something last night to upset ye.”
“Ye did nothing wrong. It’s no ye.”
“Then tell me what is wrong so that I may understand.”
“Perhaps, I will. One day.”
“Rylan, I…” Fallon stopped mid-sentence.
Her head spun around in the direction of her home.
“I smell it too. Smoke.”
Fallon lifted her skirt, and ran as fast as she could with Rylan following closely behind. As they reached the top of the hill, a plume of thick black smoke filled the air as her dry field burned like the sun.
Fallon’s heart weighted low in her chest as if it had suddenly been filled with rocks.
Please God, no!
As fast as her legs would take her, she raced toward the flames. Grabbing a bucket, Fallon dunked it into the horse trough and vigorously tossed it onto the burning stalks. Bucket after bucket, she doused the flames near the barn but her efforts were for naught.
The grains were all she had. Without them, they would be left with nothing. No food. No goods to sell. No coin to pay taxes. Their lives depended on this field and within a matter of moments, everything would be lost.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rylan standing, watching, but doing nothing.
Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2) Page 7
