Page 21 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

And yet it was easier said than done. At the end of the day, he was no brigand.

As Lucia sprang out of their hiding spot, Alaric hesitated for only a moment before following her. With a confident maneuver, she brought the horse to a halt and Alaric grabbed the man, pulling him off the saddle and tossing him to the ground. He tried to give it as little thought as possible, but it was difficult when the man stared at him, wide-eyed and fearful as he lay on theground, clutching his hands over his chest as though in prayer; as though it would help him.

“Please!” the man said, trying to squirm away from Alaric, shifting farther and farther back. Alaric followed him idly, expression schooled into neutrality even as his heart drummed in his chest, fast and erratic and regretful. “Please, nay… nay, I dinnae have anythin’ o’ value.”

Alaric sighed, the hand holding his knife coming up to scratch at the corner of his brow.So this is how it was going to be, he thought. He couldn’t blame the man for groveling, but he wished he wouldn’t make it so hard on him.

Behind him, Lucia hummed and Alaric heard the jingle of coins in a pouch. “I think he’s lyin’ tae us.”

Curse him! Now the Ravencloaks will expect violence.

Brigands needed no real reason to hurt someone other than being in the mood for it, but now that they would perceive the man’s lie as an insult, they would expect Alaric to roughen him up a little; to show him his place. It was regrettable, but it needed to be done if Alaric wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He would simply have to seek the fine line between making his attack look convincing and being as gentle as he could.

“Please!” the man said again. “That is all I have! I have naethin’ else in the whole world! I swear it! I swear it on me maither’s memory.”

A serious oath, that. Not one Alaric could take lightly. When the man spoke again, his words were like a punch to the gut.

“If ye take it, ye may as well kill me,” he said. “I’d rather die now than starve.”

It was then Alaric knew for certain it wasn’t a lie, but what was there he could do? As a few of the other men emerged from the shadows, one of them taking the horse as the others looked through the man’s belongings, Alaric swallowed around the knot in his throat and took a deep breath before stomping towards the man.

In his terror, the man scrabbled to get away, but Alaric grabbed him by the leg and dragged him back to where he was, much to the amusement of those around him. This is what they wanted, he realized. They wanted a show and he had no choice but to give it to them.

“Shut up,” he growled as he leaned over the man and punched him across the cheek. His head snapped to the side even with the little force Alaric used, and from up close, now that he could observe him, he could see he was an older man. His dark hair and thick beard had deceived him at first, as they gave him the appearance of someone younger, but the lines around his eyes and forehead, the frailty of his body, and the lack of several teeth spoke of a man around middle age who had had a rough life—perhaps even an innate weakness of the body or an illness that had rendered him weak later in life.

Alaric couldn’t leave him there like this. The man would truly starve. Though the nearest town was not too far—several hours on horseback and thrice as long, if not longer, on foot, but still a manageable distance—he didn’t know if the man could rely on the kindness of strangers. It was too much of a risk. If no one helped him there, he would truly starve.

Bracing himself, Alaric landed another punch on the man’s cheek and leaned in close as he swiftly reached into his pocket. There, he found the gold ring he always carried with him, even though he couldn’t wear it all the time; a family heirloom, one his brother would instantly recognize, and plucked it out along with two coins.

“Take these, hide them,” he whispered to the man as he shoved everything into his hand. “The coin should be enough tae buy ye food, shelter, an’ passage. Take the ring tae Castle MacGregor an’ the laird will repay ye fer the gold.”

The man’s eyes widened even further and at first, Alaric feared he didn’t comprehend anything, the shock and the pain clouding his mind too much. It would have to suffice, though. There was nothing else he could do with the entire gang there waiting for a spectacle. Even this had been way too risky, threatening to expose everything to the Ravencloaks.

He punched the man a third time for good measure, and he seemed dazed enough for Alaric to discard him. He didn’t want to knock him unconscious nor did he want to deal too much damage. He had already split the man’s lip and bruised his nose, blood fountaining out of both wounds as he walked away.

For all he knew, the man would sell the ring instead of taking it back to Evan. Alaric would miss it dearly, but there was nothing else he could give the man. Even those two coins were the last he carried on his person, though he supposed that mattered little now that they had an entire pouch of coin.

He must have been relocating, Alaric thought, perhaps trying to find a better life. If that was truly everything he owned, then it was barely anything. The gold ring alone would be enough to buy him a good life.

That was more important to him than seeing his ring again. He had been the source of misfortune for this man, no matter how reluctantly, and the shame that came with his actions gnawed at him. He had seen the man’s distress when he realized he was being attacked. He had seen him look at Alaric as a villain, and it hurt to know there was truth in it. The ends didn’t always justify the means.

Walking away from the man, Alaric caught Lucia’s gaze, hard and cold and calculating, and he knew she had seen what he had done.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Are ye out o’ yer mind?”

Lucia could not believe that someone could be as foolish as Alaric. She had based all her hopes and expectations on him, thinking that he would at least have the instinct of self-preservation and would thus not act so recklessly, but she had been mistaken. Everything depended on him acting his role and after a mere day with the Ravencloaks, he had already failed.

How could that be? How could he not care that he was putting them both in terrible danger and, more importantly, jeopardizing Lucia’s plan? He couldn’t possibly be unaware of the effects of his actions or the risks they carried. He was a fool, but not that much of a fool.

They didn’t have the luxury of time or of privacy for Lucia to yell at him or try to talk some sense into him. She could only steal a few moments as the others busied themselves with the spoils of their attack, she and Alaric hidden behind a large oak.

“What would ye have me dae, let the man perish from hunger?” Alaric asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I did what I could tae help him an’ I willnae apologize fer it.”

“Ye could have gotten us both killed,” Lucia pointed out, her voice coming out in a low hiss. “Is that what ye want? An’ fer what? Fer a man ye dinnae even ken!”

“I dinnae need tae ken him tae ken that stealin’ from him is wrong!” Alaric said. His gaze burned with anger, but Lucia was too lost in her own to care. “Ye heard him! That was all he had!”

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