Page 26 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

If she could pretend so well about this, what else was she pretending about? Alaric was certain there were many things she was hiding from him, but now he was beginning to suspect that there could also be things about which she was lying outright.

“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Lucia said with a small shrug as she finished treating Alaric’s wounds. “It is only logical that they would be the ones tae dae this tae us. Who else would attack the Ravencloaks?”

“We attacked them,” Alaric reminded her. “It was yer plan an’ it worked.”

“Aye, but since then, Callum has posted more guards,” Lucia said. “An’ the Ravencloaks have a reputation. Few are foolish enough tae attack them.”

Alaric was about to point out that they were two of the fools who had tried it, but Lucia sealed the jar with the ointment, placed it back in her belongings, and curled up next to the fire without another word. Alaric took it for what it was—an end to the conversation, one that wasn’t negotiable.

After everything, he was exhausted, too, but he was also too anxious and nervous to sleep. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he covered himself in his new cloak—black as ink, like the ones all the other men in the Ravencloaks wore—and pondered what all this meant for him.

Naturally, he didn’t consider himself a true part of the gang. He wasn’t a brigand or a mercenary, nor would he ever be. And yet, he knew that from now on, he would be forced to do plenty of things that went against his morals if he wanted to keep their cover. How could he claim to be any different from them if he was doing the exact same things they were, committing the exact same crimes?

Now, more than ever, he regretted ever agreeing to this. A part of him wished he had refused Lucia’s help and had instead found his own means of escape. He could have returned home, married Kayla, and lived a good, happy life. But now there he was, officially a part of a gang of brigands.

Another part of him, though, one he was desperately trying to ignore, reminded him he would have never gotten to know Lucia if he had returned to his life.

Lucia lay next to the fire, curled into herself. Her entire body and face still ached, so much that it seemed impossible to get even a moment of rest.

It wasn’t really her physical injuries that which kept her from sleeping, though, she knew. Deep down, she was aware of the real reason, even though she didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself.

This was the second time Alaric had questioned her knowledge of gangs. Both times, Lucia had done her best to avoid his questions, but by giving him no answers, he was bound to continue asking her for the truth. So far, she had done whatever she could to keep her past hidden from him, only allowing what was necessary to slip through. Whatever she had revealed, she had done so in order to keep her plan going forward, and so she did not regret it, but perhaps she had to be more careful from now on.

Alaric wouldn’t understand if she told him the truth; at least not yet. Lucia needed time. Eventually, when the right time came, she would reveal everything to him, but she would say nothing more on the subject until then.

Would he hate her, Lucia wondered, once he found out who she truly was? Would he think less of her? Would he think she was just like everyone else in the Ravencloaks, nothing more than a common criminal who didn’t deserve any of his respect, let alone his assistance?

By then, Lucia would have her revenge, though. Even if Alaric ended up hating her, it would make no difference to her plan.

So why daes it bother me so tae think he’ll hate me?

That thought stayed with her until she opened her eyes the following morning. It was hardly past dawn, the first light breaking through the horizon. Next to her, the fire had died down to nothing more than embers but she didn’t feel the chill she expected for the time of the year.

It soon occurred to her the reason for the warmth she felt was Alaric, who was pressed up against her, the two of them sharing their body heat. Their legs were tangled under their cloaks, their breaths mingling in the sparse space between them, and just then, when Lucia began to wonder what she should do, he opened his eyes.

A strained moment passed between them, Lucia staring at that brilliant green. Then, the moment was broken and Alaric was pulling away as though he could not get away from her fast enough, and instinctively, Lucia did the same.

To say Alaric look terrified would be an understatement. To Lucia, he resembled a deer, caught by a hunter, frozen on thespot as it waited for its end. What was it that upset him so, she wondered? Surely, he had been near a woman before. Was it her who inspired such a terrible reaction in him?

The thought was like a knife to the chest. It stung, more than Lucia wanted to admit, but she wasn’t going to show any of it. Instead, she chuckled, shaking her head.

“Am I truly that awful that ye dinnae even wish tae touch me?” she asked, trying to keep her tone lighthearted, but some of that ache seeped through the cracks, making her question sound a lot more honest than she had planned. “Dae ye fear ye will be tainted by me mere touch?”

Alaric laughed, the sound a little strained. “I dinnae think ye’re tainted, so I dinnae think ye can taint me. But simply because ye’ve lied an’ told everyone we are husband an’ wife, it doesnae make it true, an’ I have more sense than tae act like ye’re truly me wife.”

That, too, hurt more than Lucia thought it would. Why should she care if Alaric wanted to be near her or not? After all, he was right; they weren’t truly husband and wife, and Lucia had no right to be upset about any of this. If anything, it was an illogical response, she told herself, something that made no sense to her at all.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from standing without another word and stomping all the way to the nearby creek. She didn’t want to look at Alaric, not when he had angered her so terribly and Lucia couldn’t even figure out the real reason behind it.

Am I losin’ me mind? Did they hit me too hard last night?

What other explanation was there for the strange way in which she was behaving?

“Where did ye put the letters?”

Lucia froze. She was crouching by the creek, her hand outstretched as she was ready to cup some water and wash her face when she heard Callum’s voice. She was certain it was him; by then, she had learned the sound of his voice, as well as the sound of the one that followed, which belonged to Douglas, his right-hand man.

“In yer saddle bags,” said Douglas. Both their voices were quiet, almost covered by the sound of the rushing water, but Lucia was close enough to hear their words clearly, even if she had to strain a little. “Dinnae fash. They’re safe. Ye ken the men dinnae go near yer horse.”

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