Page 4 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

Lucia took a deep, shuddering breath. “Aye, ye’re right. Ye should ken the truth.”

Even after saying those words, she remained silent for a while, carefully cleaning off the more stubborn blood stains. Alaric didn’t push her. He only looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response.

“I had a braither,” she said, swallowing around the knot that formed in her throat whenever she spoke of him. “His name was Ronan an’ he… he was a good man an’ the best brother. We never had much. We never had gold or even family. All we had was each other.”

As she spoke, Lucia’s hand fell to her side, her fingers clutching the cloth tightly, until her knuckles went white. It was never easy, talking about Ronan. Though he was always on her mind, as long as she didn’t speak about him, she could shoulder the grief. It was only when she spoke his name aloud that it threatened to overwhelm her, to choke her and force the tears she held back to spill from her eyes.

“What happened tae him?” Alaric asked in a soft voice.

Lucia took a deep breath, pulling herself together. She could never allow herself to wallow in her pain and sorrow, not when there was so much work still left to be done.

“He was killed by brigands,” she said. “They murdered him. They murdered him an’ he didnae even have anythin’ valuable on him. We never had anythin’ more than a roof over our heads an’ enough food fer a few days, an’ yet they didnae hesitate tae take his life.”

Alaric listened in silence, but Lucia could tell he was more alert now. When she looked in his eyes, they were focused on her, the former haze in them gone.

“When I saw those men take ye… aye, it is true that I heard who ye are an’ I kent ye could help me, but I also couldnae bear the thought that they would harm ye. I couldnae save me braither, but I could save ye an’ so… so I did.”

Swallowing with an audible click in his throat, Alaric reached for Lucia’s hand, holding it between his palms. For a moment as she looked at him, she was mesmerized. Under the rough exterior, Alaric was a handsome man, with a piercing gaze and strong, striking features. Perhaps not many would call him that, at least not at first glance, but Lucia felt her throat dry as she stared at him, her heartbeat picking up just a little.

It was only because he was showing her a hint of tenderness, she thought. No one else had shown her any since Ronan’s death. She had no family. She refused to take a lover. Alaric was the first person to touch her like that in a very long time.

However, Lucia had no use for such sentiments. She wasn’t there to fall in love, but to avenge her brother’s death. That had been her only goal in life ever since she had found his body, ever since she had put him in the cold earth with her own two hands.

“I’m sorry fer yer braither,” Alaric said and he sounded so sincere that Lucia felt something akin to guilt—a feeling that quickly dissipated, much like everything else that wasn’t her grief and her rage. “But I dinnae see how I can help ye with this.”

“I wish tae find the men who killed him an’ bring them tae justice,” said Lucia. It was difficult to contain her rage, to pull it back so it wouldn’t frighten Alaric, but he didn’t seem frightened at all. Though he was still guarded, looking at her with some doubt, he was listening carefully to what she had to say.

He was an honorable man, Lucia had heard—the kind of man who held up his end of the bargain, and since she had saved his life, she doubted he would go back on his word and refuse to help her. After all, he had no reason to refuse. As far as he was aware, he would be doing the right thing.

“Why would the brigands attack yer braither?” Alaric asked and Lucia’s irritation spiked, to the point where she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from lashing out. Naturally, none of this could be easy, because nothing in her life was easy. Alaric would not simply agree; she would have to convince him. “Was he travellin’ when they attacked? Was he alone?”

With a sigh, Lucia disentangled herself from Alaric and stood, walking over to the dresser to pour the wine in the two cups. Asshe did, she angled her body to hide her movements and then plucked a small vial from a hidden pocket in her dress, emptying its contents into one of them before offering it to Alaric.

“They passed through our village,” she said as she took a sip of the wine. “I dinnae ken why they killed him. Why dae brigands dae anythin’?”

Alaric considered her answer for a moment before he took a sip from his cup. Just as he lowered it from his lips, he tipped it up again and drained the whole thing, much to Lucia’s surprise—and delight.

“Dae ye ken who they are?” Alaric asked.

“Aye,” said Lucia. “I found out after the attack.”

“Did they think yer braither had somethin’ o’ value on him?”

Lucia shook her head, quickly losing her patience. “I dinnae ken. But I can assure ye he had naething o’ value.”

“Did they…”

Slowly, yet surely, Alaric’s eyelids began to fall shut and he struggled to keep himself awake. He frowned in confusion, parting his lips as if to speak but then saying nothing, and his fingers loosened around the cup.

Lucia caught it before it could hit the floor and pushed Alaric gently onto the mattress. “Rest,” she said. “Ye are tired. We can speak about this later.”

Alaric went easily, his eyes falling shut for good before his head had even hit the pillow. Almost instantly, he began to snore and Lucia took a moment to snap her fingers right about his head, making sure he was truly and deeply asleep.

“Finally,” she grumbled, taking their cups and returning them to the tray before she slipped out of the room. For a moment there, she had thought Alaric’s questions would never stop.

Once out of the inn, she rounded the building and headed to the back, where Rory was waiting for her. When he spotted her, he threw up his arms in frustration, but Lucia could only laugh at the incredulous look on his face—and the black eye she had given him.

“Did ye have tae hit me?” he asked, his voice too loud for Lucia’s liking. She shushed him sharply, giving him a stern look, but it seemed he was not yet done. “An’ ye had me waitin’ here fer half an hour! What if someone saw me?”

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