DevilsHeart (18 page)

Green eyes met Leah’s and she paused mid-stride as a tumult
of relief and eagerness threatened to turn her knees into jelly. Rathe’s gaze whizzed
down her form and back up to her face. He breathed her name and reached for her
hand to draw her toward him and onto his lap. His hand smoothed up her arm and
encircled the back of her neck.

And then his lips pressed into hers. Warm and solid. Her fingers
sought the folds of his shirt and gripped them as she sighed, drinking in the
solace his presence provided. He was safe.

He broke the kiss and pulled back, his eyes narrowing as
they centered in on the swollen area below her left eye. “My God, lass, what
did he do to you?” He skimmed one finger along the outside of her cheek.

A tremor vibrated through his hand as he touched her. She
glanced from his finger and back to his face in curiosity. Had she imagined
that?

She swallowed hard, ignoring the impulse to shy away. This
time she would remain still beneath his touch. “I’m all right, I—”

She caught a glimpse of the ragged, stitched-up flesh on his
exposed arm and gasped. “You’re hurt!”

He shook his head. “It is nothing to be concerned with.”

Her brow crinkled as she studied the freshly sewn wound.
Rathe’s pinked flesh swelled against the thread, dark-red blood coagulating
along the cut. Her skin chilled, her mouth drying as her stomach jolted.

He grasped her jaw and forced her eyes back to his. “Breathe,
lass.”

She sucked in a breath, concentrating on his face. As soon
as warmth returned to her cheeks, his hand relaxed and he brushed a gentle kiss
along the corner of her mouth.

His good-natured chuckle soothed her frayed nerves. “Get
used to it, love. It will not be the last wound, I promise.”

She dropped her gaze to his chest, her feathers a bit
ruffled. Maybe the blood and sight of lacerated flesh had taken her by
surprise, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it. She just hadn’t been
prepared,

Wait. Had she heard that right?

Love?

His fingers brushed against the stiches above her ear,
sending a painful zip through her skin. She jumped and grabbed his wrist to
pull it away.

He winced. “Sorry. What is that, three stitches?”

“Four,” she and Anna answered simultaneously.

Leah gave Anna a small, grateful smile and turned back to
Rathe as he lifted her hair away from the injury and peered at it. She cringed.
It was not an experience she ever wanted to repeat. No amount of whisky could
have dulled the piercing pain of a needle sliding through her skin despite
Anna’s gentle, skilled ministrations.

“Tell me what happened. The whole of it,” Rathe commanded,
his voice turning hoarse.

Leah shrugged. She pinched the fabric of his leine and
twirled it around her fingers. “Some guy came out of nowhere and grabbed me.”

All eyes turned to her in expectation and she swallowed
hard, her mind drawing a blank over what to say next. What was there to say
anyway? It wasn’t as if anything could be done to take away the fact it
happened.

And she might have been responsible for ending another human
being’s life.

“Leah,” Rathe prodded, giving her waist a squeeze.

Tears stung her eyes. “I think I killed him,” she whispered.

“You sure as hell did.” His tone was tinged with pride.

A wave of nausea swept over her. She scooted off his lap and
onto the bench beside him. Her head fell into her palms. She’d had little
choice but to defend herself. But still, to end up killing someone?

“Hey, now,” Rathe crooned as her shoulders heaved in a threatened
sob. His hand slid up her arm and pulled back the curtain of hair shielding her
face from him. “It is over now, lass. He cannot hurt you any longer.”

She sucked in a breath and shot upright, tears streaming
down her cheeks. “You don’t understand! I don’t kill anything! Not even
spiders!”

His brow furrowed as he smoothed her hair along her back.
“Spiders?”

She spun toward him on the bench. “Yes, I take a cup and
trap them and slide a paper underneath so I can take them outside.”

He stared at her with parted lips as though she’d rendered
him speechless.

“And stray dogs. And cats. I will drive an hour out of my
way to take them to a no-kill shelter,” she added in a trembling voice as she
wiped the tears away with the back of her hands.

“What is a no-kill shelter?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important. What is important
is I don’t kill anything. Ever.”

Rathe’s hand slipped around her neck as he leaned toward
her. “Did he…did he try…” He dropped his head and shook it, muttering something
in Gaelic.

Anna appeared on the bench next to her and laid a gentle
hand on Leah’s knee. “Leah, look at me. Did anything else happen? Did he rape
you?”

Leah gasped and whipped back toward Rathe who had lifted his
head and was now watching her with darkened, fearful eyes. “No,” she rushed out
with a vehement shake of her head. “No, I…I mean, he…”

“He what?” Rathe’s tone chilled, his lips thinning.

She shrugged and cast her eyes down to her lap. “I think he
tried, but I stabbed him in the side. He came after me again and I got him in
the neck just before Bran kicked him in the head.”

“Bran was the one who bashed in his head?”

She nodded. “He had tried to warn me, but I’ve never really
been around horses so I didn’t know why he was acting so strange. I don’t know
what I would’ve done if he hadn’t…”

“Do not let on to my men it was not you,” Rathe replied, his
tone edged with laughter.

“Why?”

“I think they may be a wee bit scared of you now.”

Her eyes widened. “Scared? Of me? No, I can’t—”

“Leave it be, lass. They are enjoying the notion their new
mistress is a hellcat when angered. Besides, it solidifies your place in the
clan as someone to not disrespect.”

“But I don’t want respect through fear, Rathe. I want it
because I’ve earned it.”

A dramatic sigh escaped his lips. “If Bran had not kicked
him, would you have hesitated to do what was necessary?”

She shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Good.” He chucked her under the chin. “Then it will be our
little secret.”

She rolled her eyes and attempted to wipe the tears off her
cheeks with the backs of her hands but jumped when pain shot through her
swollen left cheek.

Rathe twisted around and grabbed an unused cloth from the
table. With several gentle dabs, he cleaned the moisture from her cheeks. Then
he bent toward her ear and whispered, “Thank you, lass.”

“For what?”

“For fighting like hell.”

* * * * *

Rathe muttered something unintelligible under his breath as
she slipped into the dim bedchamber. She eased the door shut so as not to
startle him but then stopped short as she turned in to the room. The firelight
danced along the walls of the small, tidy chamber, illuminating Rathe’s bared
back as he lifted the hem of his leine. His skin glowed golden in the light,
the contours of each muscle highlighted.

He grumbled and dropped the hem.

She rushed forward. “Let me help you.”

He grinned down at her as she skated around him. “I thought
you would never offer.”

She pressed her lips together in a timid smile and prodded
him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed, prompting him to sit. She
guided his arms through the shirtsleeves, careful to keep from twisting his
injured arm, and pulled the garment up over his head.

“Are you still in pain?” she asked stooping to the ground to
unlace his boots.

“Not much.” He paused, his stare weighing on her head. “I
will have to remember this.”

She removed one boot and set about the other. “What?”

“To get hurt more often. I am enjoying your attentions.”

She flipped her gaze upward, catching the amused twinkle in
his eyes. The nerves in her stomach tingled and she shrank back.

He exhaled in an amiable sigh. “Still frightened of me, I
take it?”

Fury swept over her. Why did she always do this? The fear.
The instant shyness that had plagued her for most of her life. It was all
getting to be too much of a burden. She wanted to smile, to laugh, to express
joy, hate, and boredom, not keep it all bottled up inside. She straightened her
spine and took her time arranging his boots along the side of the bed while she
concentrated on taking deep, even breaths.

As soon as the agitation died down, she shook her head and
lifted her gaze to his. “No, not of you. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then what is it? Honestly, Leah, I have lost count of the
number of times you have shriveled in my presence. It is not something I enjoy
watching.”

She welcomed his balanced, matter-of-fact tone even as her
cheeks warmed at his frank assessment of her weaknesses. “I don’t know. I’ve
always been this way. Quiet. I’ve never wanted to draw attention to myself.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair until his palm
encircled the back of her neck. “I like your quiet.”

Her heart flipped. “You do?”

He nodded, giving her a gentle smile. “I like your reserve.
Your thoughtfulness. I know I can be a wee bit bold or rough at times, but I
will not hurt you. I have vowed to protect you, Leah.”

Her mind fell silent. All the thoughts and arguments for why
she was too quiet or too vulnerable to be involved with the likes of Rathe
Sinclair faded. She stared into his eyes and, for the first time since they
met, alarm bells did not blast in her head after maintaining eye contact for
more than a few seconds.

He brushed the pad of his thumb along her bruised cheek. “I
did do a poor job of that today though.”

She shook her head, surprised by the doubt tinging his
voice, and slipped her hand around his wrist. On instinct, she leaned into his
palm. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

His muscle twitched beneath her fingers. “But I should have.
I should have—”

“What? Had me stay close to the fighting? Taken me into
battle with you? Rathe, you were right to send me away. If you’d had to worry
about me…” She exhaled in a huff, unwilling to finish the thought. Her presence
could have led to his death and she never would have forgiven herself.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as a smile played across
his lips. “I have a chance, do I not?”

She scrunched her brow. Had she misheard something or spoken
out of turn? “For what?”

“Convincing you to stay with me.”

Her eyes widened.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded in a teasing tone, pulling her forward.
“No shrinking away this time,
ma bichette
.”

Ma bichette. My little doe.

Her lips softened and parted as he pressed his mouth to hers
in a gentle, undemanding kiss.

“You speak French?” she whispered as he pulled away.

“
Oui.
” He brushed her hair back from her face,
careful to skip over her stitches. “I spent some time in France a couple of
years ago.”

A faraway smile spread across her lips. “I always wanted to
go to France, but never had the chance.”

“Most people do not. I myself may never set foot on French
soil again.”

“I know, but it’s different where I’m from. Many people
travel to different parts of the world.” She shrugged. “This was my first time
traveling so far away from home.”

“And look at what happened,” he replied with a teasing cluck
of the tongue as he traced the bruise on her cheek.

Look at what happened indeed. She laughed softly. She’d
wanted an adventure and had gotten one. “My mother always warned me about
staying away from men like you.”

He grinned and drew her forward. “I am pleased you did not
heed her warnings,” he whispered, smothering the last words on her lips.

She quivered at the startling tenderness of his kiss, her
heart pausing mid-beat as a cascade of foreign emotions zipped through it.

He pulled back, worry settling into his brow. “Is everything
all right?”

She smiled and nodded, reaching up to smooth the creases out
of his forehead. “You just surprised me. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

He leaned forward again, brushing his lips along the corner
of her mouth. “And I have never kissed anyone in that manner.”

Her lips parted in wonder just as shimmer of heat rippled
through her skin. “Unlace me,” she blurted out.

A spark ignited in his eyes. “As you wish, love.”

Love.
There was that word again. She twisted around
before he could see the anxiety splashed all over her face.

Using his uninjured arm, he pulled on the ribbons lacing her
overdress down the back. She stood and tugged the garment up over her head
along with her chemise. Heat crept across her skin as his sharp intake of
breath broke through the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

And then he was before her, one hand trailing down her hip
as the other pulled her wrist away from her chest. “God in heaven, lass, you are
a beautiful little thing.” He licked his lips as his gaze drifted down to her
breasts.

She touched her fingertips to his chest and slipped them
down to the hem of his breeches, enjoying the pleasant buzz in her head as he
admired her.
Beautiful.
A warming sensuality eased into her muscles and
she relaxed, reveling in the notion she could be an object of a man’s desire.
Her nipples peaked beneath his scrutiny and a feral darkness fell as a shadow
across his eyes. She tucked her fingers into the hem of his breeches. Leaning
forward, she pressed her lips to the base of his throat as she slid one hand
down over his burgeoning cock and used the other to coax his breeches down his
hips.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as his shaft twitched in
her hand. She dropped to her knees and guided the garment down to his feet. He
stepped out of it and offered her his hand. But as she gazed upward, his cock
drew her attention. Her breathing slowed as her mouth watered, his earthy scent
tickling her nose. Her name fell from his lips in a whisper and she smoothed
her palms up his roped legs.