Page 32 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

Despite its emptiness, Alaric couldn’t immediately disregard the idea that someone lived there. Perhaps its residents knew the Ravencloaks had come for them, even hidden as they were, and were making an effort to make the cottage appear empty when in fact the family was there. The entire situation was far too suspicious for his liking, and he tried to think of a way out in case things were not what they seemed.

Either way, they would have to go in. It was either that or admitting to the Ravencloaks that they were skeptical and doubtful of their plans and intentions, something they couldn’t possibly do.

Alaric made his way to the front door first, putting Lucia behind him. Neither of them was obviously armed; they only had their knives on them, so as not to scare the people who were supposed to be inside, and Alaric missed the comforting weight of his sword. Without it, he felt too bare, too vulnerable to attacks. His fingers itched to wrap around the handle of a blade just to get the reassurance of it, to know that he was not entirely defenseless.

“Stay behind me,” Alaric told Lucia, one of his hands reaching out to hold her back. She, too, was wary, moving rigidly behind him as they made their way to the door. Once there, he knocked once, then twice when there was no answer.

Glancing over his shoulder, he exchanged a glance with Lucia. He couldn’t see the Ravencloaks who had come with them, but he knew they were all watching—what he didn’t know was what they would do if no one was there.

This is far too strange. Far too suspicious.

Still, Lucia gestured at him to keep going and so Alaric knocked on the door and waited for it to open, doubtful that it ever would.

He was soon proven wrong. Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a man, old and weathered, with grey hair and a thin, scraggly beard, who peered up at them curiously.

Well, I suppose I was wrong.

“Aye,” said the man gruffly, in a voice deeper and stronger than Alaric would have expected. Alaric tried to peer into his cottage, but it was dark past the door, the small sliver of space he could see betraying nothing.

Was this the man who owed Callum? Alaric didn’t know whether or not he preferred this over someone who was younger and in better health. On the one hand, he didn’t want this poor man to suffer in Callum’s hands. On the other, at least he looked like a man who had lived a long life and who couldn’t be supporting an entire family. If he had family at all, then his children were likely the ones taking care of him rather than the other way around.

Now that Alaric was face to face with him, though, and he knew the Ravencloaks had not been lying to him and Lucia, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. Was there any way to prevent Callum’s plan, he wondered? Was there any way he could spare the old man?

“We’re travelers,” said Alaric, his mind working fast to come up with a way to save him but coming up blank. “Me an’ me wife, we’ve been travelin’ fer many days an’ we were wonderin’ if ye could spare a warm meal or even some ale.”

The man examined them both with a careful, meticulous gaze, his dark, rheumy eyes following even the slightest movement they made. For a long while, he hesitated, neither speaking nor moving from where he stood, blocking the door, and Alaric thought they would be turned away and their task would be over. Soon, though, he was proven wrong, as the man stepped backand let them inside, and Alaric had no choice but to follow, his hand reaching for Lucia’s as they crossed the threshold.

Inside, the cottage was dark and cluttered, nothing but a small fire in the hearth illuminating the sparsely furnished room. The windows were covered with thick skins and no matter how much Alaric tried to find any signs of another person being there, he saw nothing but empty space. As he and Lucia looked around, the old man hobbled through the room in the half-light, making his way to the far corner that served as the kitchen. Alaric’s eyes, which had been glued to the man this entire time, slid over to Lucia to find that she was just as ill at ease, keeping her distance from the stranger. There wasn’t much he could do to reassure her. He was certain he, too, radiated nervousness, though if the man had noticed, he hadn’t yet commented on it.

The mission was already a disaster in Alaric’s mind. Both he and Lucia were acting too strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to harm the man, and he didn’t know what the Ravencloaks were planning to do. Did they expect him and Lucia to do all the dirty work for them? Would they soon enter the house?

They had been too vague for Alaric’s liking, giving them half-truths and barely any instructions, and it was that which had made him so suspicious in the first place. None of this seemed right to him and the more he thought about it, the more he feared there was something he couldn’t see.

“We should dae this an’ leave this place,” said Lucia in a quiet voice, just as the man brought them two cups of ale, handing one to each.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing at two rickety chairs by a small table, near the only window that allowed some light in. “Forgive the state o’ me home. I had tae send me wife an’ bairns away.”

Did he send them away because he fears the Ravencloaks?

It was likely, Alaric thought as he took a large sip of ale, for the first time realizing how thirsty he was after such a long ride. Lucia, too, drained her cup quickly with a satisfied sigh and the man plucked it from her hand to bring her more.

“What place did ye leave tae end up here?” the man asked, his voice strangely slow and fragmented in Alaric’s ears.

He was certain he answered, though he didn’t know what it was he could have said. Before he knew it, the world was turning black around him, even the smallest hints of light disappearing.

When Alaric opened his eyes, it was still dark in the room, though he couldn’t tell if said darkness was manufactured or if it was already past sunset. He blinked a few times, trying to bring the room into focus as he tried to recall what had happened. It was then that he noticed he was tied to the chair where he had been sitting.

O’ course. I should’ve kent better.

He and Lucia had suspected the Ravencloaks from the start and yet they had been so careless as to drink whatever that old man put in their hands. It had been a grave mistake, one for which they were now paying.

When he searched for Lucia, Alaric found her still in her chair, just like he was, and bound just like he was. She was still unconscious, her smaller frame making it take longer to get the poison out of her system. However, even in the dark, he could see the soft rise and fall of her chest that told her she was still breathing.

That, at least, was a relief.

“Ach, ye’re awake.”

The voice came from the shadows but Alaric didn’t need to see the man to whom it belonged to know who it was.

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