The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (28 page)

“Can you tell me what happened, lass?”

“I’m not sure.” She frowned. “An old woman gave me a set of combs.” Her hand went to her head. Her face flickered with some emotion, and she frowned. “Where are they?” Her anguished voice rose. “Where are my beautiful combs?”

She dropped the mug. It rolled to the floor, the last of the tea spilling out onto the wood. “I need to find my combs.” Tossing away the blankets, she struggled to get up.

“Hush lass, back into bed.” He wrapped the afghan around her and eased her back onto the bed, cradling her in his arms. “The combs almost killed you today.”

He kept his voice soft. “Where did you see the old woman?”

“They’re mine, I need them!” she wailed, darting wild looks around the room. “Where are they?”

He pulled her tense body close. “Hush now
.
This will wear off the longer you’re away from them.” He hoped it was the truth. He had no experience with this type of magic. He slow-rocked her and she relaxed in his arms until he was able to ease his tight hold and try again.

“Can you describe the old woman?”

“I remember. There was something wrong about her, something strange.” Her voice shrank and she clutched his arm. “Why did I take the combs from her?” A shudder ripped through her, and her eyes glossed over. Her arms flailed, her hands hitting him in the face. She kicked his shins and elbowed his ribs, but Logan tightened his hold and rode out the storm.

“Tell me what you remember,” he asked, holding her close and stroking her hair.

“She was ancient and wore a hideous, long dress. I didn’t know what to do with her, and then… she handed me the combs.” She paused, her face flickered again, and he identified the emotion as lust. “Where are they?” She spasmed, her arms flying from her sides.

“Whist, my dearling.” Logan held on, whispering in her ear as the remnants of the spell lashed through her.

Trina’s flailing limbs subsided and she shuddered in his arms. “I’m feeling better,” she said. “But I’m so tired.” She stretched and yawned and he eased his grip, pulling back and searching her eyes for signs she was still impaired.

“Your eyes do look clearer.” He sighed and cursed his stupidity. He’d assumed the natural defenses of the forest would hide them, but someone had watched and waited for him to leave her alone and unprotected. How was it that the hounds or Solanum hadn’t sensed someone watching earlier today? Why hadn’t he left them with her for protection?

“I think I just need to sleep,” she said, her eyelids fluttered heavily.

“You rest. I need to check the perimeter, make sure we’re safe for the night,” he said, and eased away from her. She murmured a sleepy protest and he stroked her forehead.

She half opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Logan?”

“Go to sleep, we hunt in the morning.” He stood and she relaxed back into the bed.

Looking down at her his thoughts ran wild. How had this happened? How had the queen found them? His mind spun with the possibilities while fear coursed like red and yellow lava through his bloodstream. If the queen knew Trina was alive, then not only her life was in danger, but his existence as well. And he was the only thing standing between Trina and death.

He grabbed his leather coat. “I’ll return soon,” he whispered, but she was already falling asleep. He tucked her in and gave her a quick chaste kiss on the forehead before heading for the door.

How had he come to this? The thought of losing her had the blood pounding in his temples, wreaking havoc with his thoughts. He opened the door and looked back at her curled on her side like a child, her breathing already soft and sweet with sleep.

He couldn’t bring her with him, but he was damned if he would leave her here by herself to face whatever might come next to their clearing. And he couldn’t leave her with his seven randy uncles back at the cottage. They’d already made rude comments to him about his woman during his quick supply runs. Why the horny bastards isolated themselves here without female companionship, he’d never understand. He needed to find somewhere safe to put her, and he was running out of ideas.

He closed the door behind him. Solanum immediately materialized from the shadows at the side of the house, no box to be seen in his hands. Together, they walked the interior of the clearing, then out into the dark of the forest.

“I have yet to find signs anyone has been here,” Solanum said.

Logan extended his tracking Gift and examined the surrounding area. Someone had taken great effort to hide from him in particular, using the same tricks a hunter would use to confuse his prey. There were no residual signs from the person who had been there that afternoon. She had covered her tracks well.

He headed back into the cottage. He’d be awake all night now that he knew someone watched and waited for him to be off his guard. Trina was sound asleep in his bed. Safe and where she was supposed to be. He climbed in and pulled her close, and let the warm honey of satisfaction fill him and ease his tension.

Tonight, he would content himself with holding his witch. Tomorrow they would hunt, for now they remained the hunted.

Chapter Seventeen

Soft kisses trailed down Trina’s cheek and across her neck. She pried sticky eyes open and peered at Logan. He looked great and smelled even better—woodsy, clean, sexy. She, on the other hand, felt terrible—mouth dry, stomach unhappy, and everything hurt.

“Wake up, lazy, I have work for you to do!”

“Go away,” she said and rolled over to hide under the covers from his too chipper attitude. “What did we do last night? I have the worst hangover.”

He tugged on the blanket, letting in the bright sunlight. “How do you feel?”

“My head aches, my eyes ache, everything aches.” She struggled to pull the blanket up, but he seemed intent on depriving her of its shelter. “And I feel nauseous.”

“Not too bad, all things considered.” He stripped the blanket away, leaving her naked and defenseless, blinking against the light and her tormentor. “You have packing to do. We’re leaving within the hour. If you want a bath, now’s the time.” He leaned over and sniffed her hair. “And I’m thinking you want to get started soon.”

“Are you saying I stink?” She half-heartedly swung a pillow at him, but he ducked and grinned.

“Up, or you won’t have enough time to pack.”

“Pack? Where are we going?” She struggled to remember why she should feel so bad. “And what would I pack? My whole two dresses? Whoopee! I’ll get right on it.” She flipped him off with her free hand as she rolled up to sitting.

“If you’re nice, you might have a little more than two dresses to pack. Where do you think I was yesterday?” Logan dangled a small, purple velvet bag that grew even as she reached for it. “Most of your new clothes are already in here, but you should add anything you don’t want to leave behind.”

Trina opened the bag and pulled out bright, silky dress after dress. Her mouth gaped open, and she struggled to think of something to say.

Logan grinned. “You might try ‘thanks’. There are quite a few gowns in there. And some shoes. And those terrible denim things women wear now.” She pulled out bras, underwear, and shoes. Slippers, and heels, and sneakers. She laughed and hugged a pair of laced up short boots to her chest.

Logan snorted a laugh.

“What?” she asked. His grin looked genuine, but she was sure something was up.

“It’s nice to see you looking better…sparkling eyes, red cheeks.” He pinched her cheek and brushed her lips in a kiss. “You look like a little girl at a party.”

“It feels like a birthday.” She discovered the coveted pair of jeans and whooped. “Who knew you would bring all this after doling things out like Scrooge.” She stopped and dropped the jeans into the pile of gifts. “Wait a minute. What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember the old woman, the combs, or almost dying?”

“No… Yes… I don’t know.” She struggled, her head aching as snippets of memory flashed through her brain. “I think I remember.”

“I was hoping you’d remember more this morning.” His smile faded and she saw, underneath his bright, shiny attitude, he looked tired. “Is there anything you can tell me about yesterday?” Logan pushed the clothes out of the way, sat beside her, and drew her hair back from her face.

She searched his eyes for something to jar her memory, but all she saw was concern. “Maybe. It makes my head hurt.” Some lovely gold jewelry, flashes of bright colors, and an evil laugh all blurred into a bad nightmare.

“Try, sweetling. Someone gave you a gift, do you remember?”

She tried again, a stabbing pain ricocheting through her head and blocking the memories. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You said last night it was an old woman, but no one knows that you’re here, that you’re even alive, no one except myself and my uncles.” A dark foreboding look crossed his face. “And Mariella Boyd.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How could she have found me? I don’t even know where we are.”

“No, but she knows you’re alive, and that may be enough.”

“It couldn’t have been Mariella. How could she have hidden her aura? She isn’t fae.”

“She hid her aura?” He looked intently into her eyes. “You remember something?”

An old woman. Suspicion. Something not right. And the fear of discovering the woman had no aura. “I remember she was old, and when I used my Gift to look closer… her aura wasn’t there.” Panic fisted in her chest. “She wasn’t there, Logan! What does that mean?”

“It means she must be strong if she did that. How much fae blood does Mariella have in her clan? What are her talents? She must have some strong ones to be head of a clan. Or perhaps some fae put a glamour on her, to hide her identity.”

“Why would Mariella do this?”

“I don’t know but you aren’t safe here anymore. If she tells the queen you’re alive….” He gripped her hard and she squeaked a protest. One by one he relaxed his fingers and let her go, she rubbed her arms. He shook his head. “I can’t leave you here alone anymore, and if the queen’s involved it’s too dangerous to take you with me.”

She didn’t remember much, but she knew she needed to go with him. This was her chance to finally do something. “You’re not thinking straight, Logan. I would be safer with you.”

“I can’t focus on the hunt with you. You’re too distracting. I missed that we were followed from the meet, I missed the wild boars, I missed that someone knows we’re here. This was supposed to be a safe haven and instead, you were here, penned up for the taking. How can I take you Underhill, into the lands of Faerie and keep you safe?”

“How can you leave me here?”

“If the person who tracked you here knows that I am here with you, then hunting with me isn’t safe.” Logan stroked her hair.

She sighed.

He tucked a strand behind her ear. “Look at me, Trina. For both our safeties, we must find Aoife.”

“I agree, but I’m coming with you,” she said, lifting her chin. She wasn’t going to be left behind anymore. “I’m feeling better.” She played her trump card. “And I’ll be safer with you, than without you.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line but she held her ground staring into his eyes. Eyes that still captured her, but no longer hypnotized her with their magic. Eyes of someone she thought she could dare to trust.

“Stubborn, that’s what you are.” He shook his head, his lips softening into a smile. “All right, lass. You can come with me, but there will be rules.” He waggled a finger in her face. “And you must go in disguise, this time a better one. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She snuggled into his side and he held her close. She closed her eyes and wished she could stay here and pretend everything was fine, but that wasn’t her life. It never had been. She was a fighter and she would fight to keep her family safe, even if it meant taking on the queen herself. Or Logan.

He stood up. “Hop in the bath and I’ll get breakfast while you try to remember the rest of what happened yesterday.”

She crossed the room. “I remember being pissed at you.” She eased into the bath and leaned her head back, her aching muscles relaxing in the steamy lavender-scented water. “You left me here.”

“Well, that’s not what’s happening today.” He pulled out a frying pan. “Scrambled or fried?” She sensed tension under his attempt at breezy, casual conversation.

“What the hell happened?”

“Take your bath, have some breakfast, and see if you remember,” he called from the stove. “If you don’t, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Why are we packing?” She poured lemon verbena shampoo into her palm, the strong scent waking her up as she soaped her hair.

“I can’t leave you here.” Logan broke eggs into the skillet. “And we won’t be coming back. I’ll be finding another place to tuck you away. Somewhere safer.”

“But you are taking me with you to hunt for Aoife today. For sure?” She stared at him, lather dripping down the side of her face. “No tricks, no sneaking off and abandoning me somewhere else?”

“Not today. Not unless you don’t get cracking and finish up.”

“Why?” She needed to know. Was it simply that she was in danger and he saw her as his property? Or did he see that she needed to go, needed to hunt Aoife for herself and find out why her family was in such danger.