Page 29 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

Kayla didn’t even know in what schemes he was involved now; no one did. Had Evan received his letter? Was his betrothed anxiously waiting for him, worrying that something had happened to him? What if she thought he was dead? Would their marriage be cancelled if he didn’t return home soon or would they wait for him as long as it took?

An’ how long will it take? How long must I follow the Ravencloaks in their crimes?

A war raged inside Alaric. A part of him wanted nothing more than to be with Lucia, even for one night. Another part of him knew just how wrong that was and just how much trouble it could cause him, but the temptation would always be there as long as they were near each other. The only way he could put an end to it was by separating from her and returning to his family, where he truly belonged.

The only thing that gave him some comfort was the knowledge that he had offered her something precious—those letters currently clutched so carefully in Lucia’s hands. If nothing else, they had something useful now, something that would hopefully give them information on Callum and his gang. Lucia’s happiness overshadowed everything else and Alaric couldn’t stop looking at that radiant smile full of hope.

She seemed so different from the woman he had met, who was usually sharp and harsh, all thorny words and a brash attitude.Alaric couldn’t deny that he was just as attracted to both sides of her, but this side, the side she had not revealed to him before, was dearer to him if only because for the first time since he had met her, he could see she was truly happy.

And he liked being the cause of that happiness. He wished he could always give her that.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The night was quiet and Lucia and Alaric were huddled up by a tree at the edge of the camp, hidden under their cloaks. To any prying eyes, they would look as though they were sleeping, covered like that to battle the chill since they were yet to be given a tent, but in reality, they were both wide awake, going through the letters Alaric had stolen.

Neither of them could believe what they were reading was true. The correspondence was between Callum and the King’s men, something that startled Lucia. Callum was not simply the leader of the Ravencloaks as she had once thought; he was working with the English to destabilize the clans and Lucia could only assume he was doing it all for his own personal gain. With the clans under English influence, weakened and divided, he could easily swoop in and reap the spoils.

Next to Lucia, Alaric was vibrating with rage. When she glanced at him, she saw that his face was contorted into a mask of fury, his anger barely contained as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“That bastard!” he hissed and Lucia couldn’t help but worry that he would march right up to Callum and kill him. Though she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, nor did she think it would not be deserved, she still wanted to find out more about her brother first before either of them resorted to drastic measures such as this. “How dare he? How dare he condemn his own brethren tae English rule?”

“I dinnae think he cares about that,” Lucia offered, for lack of anything better to say. Lucia herself resented the English as much as anyone, but she had more immediate concerns—namely, the death of her brother. For Alaric, though, this was far more personal. He may not have been a laird himself but he was still a protector of his clan. He still had people in his care and it was only natural that the thought that they were in danger would infuriate him like this.

“I must write tae me braither,” Alaric said, as though he hadn’t even heard Lucia. “I must tell him what he’s doin’.”

“How will ye dae that?” Lucia asked. They were constantly surrounded by the Ravencloaks and it wasn’t as though Alaric could ask the messenger to deliver his letter to Castle MacGregor. “Our best chance now is tae find more information. Keep readin’.”

Alaric took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain control. Then, he did as he was told, returning to the letters, the two of them looking for any other clues that could help them under the light of a nearby torch.

It didn’t take long for Lucia to find what she had been looking for all that time. There was a letter in the pile, detailing how Callum had passed off Ronan’s death as a loss in a skirmish, when in fact it had been he who had killed him. Callum had murdered Ronan with his own two hands after planning it for months, but there were no further details.

It had been no unfortunate accident. It had been no loss in an enemy fight. It hadn’t even been a spontaneous decision, a murder committed in the heat of the moment. No, Callum had wanted Ronan dead for a long time, and he had made sure he would get what he wanted.

But why? Was it a battle over leadership? And why was it mentioned in the letter then? Well, I guess all that matters is that now I have the information that I wanted…

She had solid proof of who exactly killed her brother. That was all she needed to keep going.

Her rage bubbling up inside her and threatening to spill over, Lucia shoved the letter in Alaric’s hands. She, too, was shaking now from head to toe, her fists clenched in her lap, nails biting into the tender skin of her palms. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, as they always did whenever she thought about Ronan for a little too long, but she refused to let them fall. Crying was always a weakness, she had learned. Even as a child, she had known the vulnerability that came with it, the risks she would be taking if she ever appeared weak.

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