Page 23 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

Alaric chortled at her comment, shaking his head. “Dae ye think this is the first time I must eat somethin’ like this?”

Lucia turned her head to look at him, truly look at him and assess him. She took in his dark hair, thick and lustrous, the green eyes that glittered in the light of the fire, the tall, muscular build, and in the end, she nodded.

“Aye, o’ course it’s the first time,” she said. “Look at ye. Even now, ye look like a princelin’.”

Lucia didn’t know how no one else could tell. Alaric may have been dressed in rags, but he looked too healthy, too robust to be who he claimed to be. People had been suspicious of her before, as Ronan had always made sure she was fed and clean, even if it meant he wouldn’t be eating that day. She had grown up to become the woman she was because of him, but even so, she looked sickly compared to Alaric.

Had it not been for the tattoos and the scars that covered so much of his skin, he would certainly look the part of a noble.

Giving her an unimpressed look, Alaric shoved the spoon in his mouth and seemed to immediately regret it. To his credit, he didn’t spit the slop out, though, but rather forced himself to swallow it, going so far as to give Lucia a smug smile. Had he known hunger, she thought, he wouldn’t be so pleased with himself.

Something had been gnawing at her all day, though; something she could no longer ignore, no matter how much she wished she could, and she turned to Alaric with a bit of hesitation, wondering how to best approach the subject.

One thing was for certain: she didn’t want to apologize.

“What ye did earlier… perhaps it was the right thing,” she admitted. That was as far as she was willing to go. A real apology would be too much, especially because she wouldn’t entirely mean it. She still thought it was foolish, giving that man his coins and his ring—a gold ring, which could very well have been a family heirloom!—but foolish or not, he had saved that man’s life and that, if nothing else, was commendable.

Her words seemed to take Alaric by surprise. He stared at her, mouth hanging slightly open and bowl forgotten in his lap, silent for several moments. Just as Lucia rolled her eyes at him, though, and was about to tell him she was taking everything she had said back, he spoke.

“I never thought ye would say such a thing,” he said.

It didn’t sound like an insult, as there was no real bite behind Alaric’s words. If anything, he sounded truly surprised that she would admit he had done the right thing, like he would have never expected to hear it from her lips.

If she were honest with herself, Lucia never expected to say those words either, but then again, she never expected to meet a man like Alaric at all.

“I never… all me life, the only men I ever kent were liars an’ cheats an’ criminals,” Lucia said. Even Ronan had had his faults, although he had always been a saint to her. The fact that he had taken such good care of her didn’t mean that he was any less of a criminal nor did it change the fact that he had hurt countless people. “Ye’re the only one with honor.”

Alaric looked at her in silence. In the glow of the fire, he seemed carved from marble—a strong, straight nose, a high forehead, deep-set eyes that seemed to follow her every move. Then, he smiled erasing the harsh, rugged look he usually had, making him appear boyish even with the beard he was sporting.

“I thought ye may take men with honor fer fools,” Alaric said with a small, teasing smile. “Honor rarely helps in such cases.”

“An’ yet ye still hold onto it,” Lucia pointed out. “An’ that, I suppose, is what makes ye so different.”

Alaric said nothing more on the matter, nor did Lucia. They only looked at each other for a little longer before Alaric huffed out a short laugh and returned to his bowl, taking small, manageable bites of the slop.

It was true, Lucia thought, that he was unlike any other man she had ever met. From the outside, he seemed like a brute, like someone who had spent all his life in brawls and taverns and less than respected inns. The scruffy bead, the countless tattoos, the even more plentiful scars that covered his arms and torso—and most likely his legs, too, though Lucia had not seen them bare—all spoke of a man who would fit right in with the Ravencloaks.And yet, Alaric was not only polite and good-mannered, acting more like the noble-born he was than the commoner he was trying to imitate, but he was kind and fair and so unlike anyone else she had met.

It was a dangerous thing, but it was also more appealing than she would like to admit. After a lifetime of being ignored, belittled, and attacked by men like Callum and Lachlan and everyone else in the Ravencloaks, knowing there was someone like Alaric in the world was a comfort. But more than that, having Alaric there with her, helping her with her plan when he could have easily abandoned her once she had freed him, warmed her heart. There was no denying she was drawn to him, like a moth caught in his light. There was no denying, either, that allowing these feelings to blossom was dangerous.

“Ye’re right,” Alaric said with a smile, pulling her out of her thoughts. “This is the worst dinner I’ve ever had.”

Despite herself, Lucia laughed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alaric stared, empty-eyed, at Callum as he spoke. After dinner, he had gathered everyone around the fire, announcing the gang’s next big job: ransacking a town that was on their way to their main quarters. In theory, Alaric had known from the start that he would have to do some unsavory things in order to infiltrate the Ravencloaks, but now, confronted by the reality of Callum’s plans, he didn’t know if it was something he could stomach.

He had been lucky enough to be able to help the man he and Lucia had robbed, but how could he help an entire town? Even if he somehow managed to send a letter to Evan or even if he survived that ordeal and returned to Castle MacGregor with all the desire to repay those people back, fixing up an entire town after the Ravencloaks had razed it to the ground would be neither easy nor cheap. He couldn’t hold his clan responsible for so much damage.

For a moment, he considered faking an injury or illness, but even if he successfully managed to pass as sick, he would still bewatching as the others took everything from those townspeople and that was as good as participating. There was nothing he could do this time that could stop this disaster from befalling them.

An elbow to his ribs brought Alaric back to the present and he glanced to his side, seeing Lucia’s cold glare. He shook himself, hoping no one else had noticed that he had stopped paying attention to Callum and focused back on the plan. There would be time for him to be concerned about this later.

This would be another sleepless night, he knew.

“It’s a small town,” said Callum as he paced back and forth in front of the fire, the orange glow casting shadows over his face and making him look even more menacing than usual. “But it’s close tae Portencross Castle an’ so there will be smiths an’ artisans an’ gold.”

The men cheered, but Alaric frowned, sitting up a little straighter. “Portencross Castle?” he asked. “Is that truly on our way?”

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