Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I swallow hard.
She watches me with a cool, interested expression, as if she wonders what I’ll do to her, but isn’t terribly afraid. Either she’s ignorant or jaded. Maybe both.
“Lie on your back.”
Still watching me, her gaze grows a bit more guarded as she obeys. She lies back, her hands placed gently on her belly. Her eyes never leave mine.
“Hands above your head.”
My words ring out in the stillness like the gonging of a bell. The only sound once my voice fades is her slow, steady breathing.
Why has she obeyed every fucking instruction I’ve given her but one? I don’t have time to question her further but I certainly will. She’ll be fine for the night while I make my plan. I kneel beside her as I fasten her restraints. I watch the thin blue veins on her inner wrists throb as I draw nearer to her.
She smells as clean and fresh as the snow-capped mountains. I inhale her scent as I secure her. Everything about her is soft and gentle, and I want to crawl up in this bed beside her.
I haven’t had a woman that mattered in so long, I damn near forgot what being near the gentler sex is like. There were plenty back before the accident, when we were younger and more carefree. Then we took to the reclusive north. My brothers venture into town and some even have regular relationships. Not me, though.
In recent months, the only priority in my entire world has been assuming the weighty role of Clan Captain, and making sure that the Clan is taken care of. Everything else has been put on indefinite hold.
A folded blanket sits at the foot of the bed. It’s coarse, a deep red that resembles the soil outside our windows in the spring, but it’ll do. I reach for it and unfold it, then toss it over her nearly naked body. I tuck it in loosely around her shoulders.
“Tomorrow, you’ll tell me. Tonight, you’ll think about the punishment I have in store for you if you don’t.”
She looks away but doesn’t respond. I turn from her and walk to the door. My father waits.
I shut it behind me, my mind occupied with so many questions about her that I nearly collide into Islan.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” I mutter. “Damn near scared the hell out of me.”
She doesn’t even flinch. “I wanted to see where you took her.”
“Well, now you know, but you ought to know better than to snoop around these parts. Honest to God, Islan. I could’ve done things to her you’d not want to be privy to.” In fact, that’s exactly what I intend on doing.
She shakes her head. “Like I fucking care if you snog a woman, Leith.”
I stifle a groan. Snogging. Really, Islan, that’s the best you can come up with?
She looks over her shoulder. “I just wondered what she’s like. We haven’t had a woman here in so bloody long, it feels like—”
Ohh, no she doesn’t. I take her by the arm and wag my finger at her. “Now, look here, Islan. You fucking listen to me well.”
She tries to yank her arm away, but I don’t allow her to.
“Let me the fuck go,” she fumes, but I hold her tight.
“This woman saw me murder a fucking rival tonight. If she so much as breathes a word to the authorities, and they corroborate evidence, your bonnie wee home here’s fucked. Do you understand that?”
She blinks, still trying to tear her arm away. “Aye, of course.”
“You’re not to go in there. You’re not to speak to her. And so help me, if I catch you interfering in any way—”
Her eyes flash at me. “You’ll ground me to the house, then? Fucking keep me home like you threatened Paisley?”
“Precisely.”
She finally does tear herself away and storms off down the hall, rubbing her arm and muttering things to herself like, “Can’t wait to move away,” and “thinks he’s the boss of me,” and “too fucking full of himself.”
I let her go and head downstairs to see my father. He’s waited long enough, and I know better than to leave him waiting. I pause at the landing. Listening. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. Do I expect my nearly-silent captive to suddenly burst into song or something? Jesus.
My father’s waiting by the fire, a stout glass of whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other. My mother sits beside him, nursing a cold pint.
“Y’alright, Leith?” she asks. She smiles, though it doesn’t quiet reach her eyes.
“Aye, Mum. You?”
She looks back to the fire and slowly nods. “Oh, I’m fine. Heard you brought us a guest?”
I walk to the sideboard, take a glass, toss ice in it and pour myself a glass of whisky. I don’t reply until I’ve taken a good, cleansing pull from it.