Page 15 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

It was then that his eyes widened in recognition as he realized Lucia was not what she seemed to be. That, too, felt like a small victory—seeing the shock in his gaze as he stepped back, circling her once more while he undoubtedly tried to think of a better way to attack. Lucia didn’t give him any time to think, though, before she attacked him again, forcing him to take several steps back as he tried to deflect her blows and giving him no chance to counterattack.

Distantly, she realized the crowd around them had gone silent, all of them watching with bated breath. Alaric was among them, too, and this was the second time he was seeing her fight like this, cruel and vicious and hungry for blood. She wondered what he thought of this, if he was now more suspicious than ever of her—perhaps maybe even a little afraid, wondering what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to help her.

She knew one thing for certain, though: if she searched for his gaze in the crowd, she would find it glued on her.

Alaric watched; he had no other choice. Even if he had wanted to look away, it would have been impossible with the way Lucia moved, fast and deadly and graceful. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that she was enjoying this. She did not only fight for necessity, not only because she wanted to survive. She fought because she enjoyed it, taking pleasure in the struggle.

In her enthusiasm, she was reckless. Alaric could see it in the way she moved too fast, with complete abandon, relying more on the fact that her opponent was surprised than on her own skill. He knew she could fight better than this; he had seen her, unless she was only skilled with her fists and not a sword, which seemed unlikely. But it seemed to him she was enjoying it so much that she could hardly contain herself, each brutal strike spurring her on.

And then, just as Lachlan feinted to the left, Lucia’s sword caught him on the arm, drawing first blood. Crimson fountained over Lachlan’s sleeve and for a moment, he didn’t seem to notice the injury, as he continued to advance towards Lucia for another attack. It was only when Callum stepped forward and between them that Lachlan came to a sudden halt, lowering his head.

“First blood tae the lassie,” said Callum. As he spoke, he looked at Lucia, and Alaric didn’t like that gaze he gave her at all. There was reluctant respect there, surely, and an acknowledgement ofher skill, but Lucia had piqued his curiosity, Alaric could tell. Callum was scrutinizing her from head to toe, much like Alaric himself had done when they had first met, trying to figure out everything she wouldn’t tell him.

“Me name’s Lucia,” Lucia said through gritted teeth. Around them, the men mumbled and whispered among themselves, and though Alaric couldn’t quite tell what they were saying, he knew it couldn’t possibly be good.

Even if they had no choice but to accept her into their ranks now, they would surely make their stay with the Ravencloaks difficult for them both. They still didn’t think she had any right to be there, even if she had proven her skill to them.

“Well, Lucia, we’ll see what becomes o’ ye yet,” said Callum. “Fer now, the two o’ ye can set up camp over there.”

As he spoke, Callum pointed to the other end of the clearing, away from the fire and, most importantly, away from the other tents. Naturally, he didn’t trust them and it didn’t surprise Alaric that he wanted them as far away from him and his men as he could.

“It’s late,” Callum added, addressing his men, as he made his way back to his tent. “We will say more on the matter on the morrow.”

As he walked, Callum came to a stop next to the three bound men, looking down at them with disdain. “An’ someone deal with this.”

With that last order, he was gone, and the rest of the Ravencloaks quickly dispersed. Alaric joined Lucia, tongue-tied, his heart still racing. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to ask, but didn’t know how. Before he could utter a single word, though, another man walked up to them. He, too, looked like the brigand he was; large and imposing, scarred from head to toe, his dark hair tied back at the nape.

Alaric subtly reached for his sword, but the man swiftly followed the movement with his gaze and chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m nae here tae challenge ye,” he said. “Me name is Tiernan. I only wished tae ask if ye are hungry.”

Alaric exchanged a quick glance with Lucia and the understanding between them was instant. She, too, was just as wary of this man as Alaric was. Any show of kindness could be nothing more than a trap, and they were both well aware of that fact.

When neither of them spoke, Tiernan gave them a small shrug. “Well,. there is cured meat an’ some fruit an’ cheese,” he said. “Ale, too, if ye are thirsty.”

Alaric knew Lucia had to be just as hungry as he was, since they had hardly eaten anything at all that day and so, even though he was a little reluctant to try anything those men gave them, he asked, “Where?”

Tiernan chuckled again at the sudden question, nodding his head closer to the fire. “Come,” he said. “I’ll give ye some.”

After one last glance exchanged between Alaric and Lucia, the two of them followed him to the fire that had now died down to nothing. As Tiernan tried in vain to revive at least a few of its flames, Alaric remained close to Lucia, once again putting himself between her and this new man he didn’t trust.

Even as Alaric watched him carefully, though, Tiernan showed no signs of deceit. He even took a bite of each food he offered them without any comment, just to show them nothing had been tampered with, and slowly, Alaric managed to relax around him just a little.

“Everyone else is avoidin’ us,” said Lucia, not one to ever care about what was proper and what wasn’t. “Why are ye helpin’?”

For a few moments, Tiernan said nothing, staring instead into the distance, at the deep shadows of the trees. “I am curious,” he said eventually, which was probably sincere enough. “The two o’ ye come here seemingly from the ether an’ ye incapacitate three o’ our men, steal our supplies, an’ then demand to join our ranks. An’ ye’re a lass who fights like a man. An’ ye also claim tae be married.”

It was an odd way of phrasing it, Alaric thought, as if Tiernan didn’t quite believe it. Was there something obvious about them, Alaric wondered, which gave away the fact that they were not married? Was there anything they could do about it before it was too late, before everyone else noticed, too?

Maybe I am bein’ paranoid, maybe he doesnae ken.

“What is so strange about any o’ that?” Lucia asked casually. Whether she had the same thoughts as Alaric, he didn’t know, but none of it showed in her expression or her tone. She was perfectly calm, her voice curious, but level.

“Mainly the fact that ye wish tae join the Ravencloaks,” said Tiernan. “May I ask why?”

“Because it is difficult tae survive on our own,” said Lucia. “Me husband has been doin’ his best an’ I help as much as I can, but ‘tis nae life. We have naething. We are poor. We have naewhere tae stay, naewhere tae go. Some nights, we dinnae even have food.”

It was remarkable, seeing the difference between the Lucia he knew and the Lucia who sat next to him now, spinning this story for her audience. She played the role of the poor common girl who had known nothing but hardship and hunger too well, the lies coming to her with ease. Whether she had rehearsed them or not, Alaric didn’t know. He also didn’t know what would be worse—if she had rehearsed them in advance, this story along with countless others so she could use whoever one suited her best, or if it was all improvised, made up on the spot by her clever, cunning mind. Both options seemed equally bad to him. It was difficult to know what he should believe, if anything she said, when it was so obvious she was a masterful liar.

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