Page 6 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

He didn’t mention the reason for his eagerness to write Evan was not only because he didn’t want his brother to be concerned about his well-being—after all, there had been plenty of times when Alaric had been delayed on a mission and had returned home later than expected—but also because there was the matter of his betrothed. His reluctance to tell Lucia about her didn’t puzzle him, but only because he refused to think about it. What was there to say, after all? His betrothal was none of Lucia’s business.

“Tell him it will take ye a while tae return,” said Lucia, like giving orders was second nature to her.

Alaric observed her for a few moments—the casual, wide stance she had assumed on the chair, which was by no means suitable for a lady, the hooded green eyes that revealed nothing about what she was thinking, the way she seemed to dominate the room even with her rather small frame.

He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman she was. Never before had he met someone like her and the allure of the unknown and the unfamiliar was irresistible. Maybe if he found out more about her, if he got to know her motives and her desires, then the mystery she posed wouldn’t affect him so terribly.

“What, precisely, dae ye mean when ye say a while?” Alaric asked as he dug into the bowl of stew, barely tasting the concoction of meat and vegetables. The moment the first bite settled in his stomach, he realized just how ravenous he was and he had to stop himself from tearing into a bannock with complete abandon, trying to remember his good manners and upbringing even if they were in a lowly tavern and not in a castle. Lucia, on the other hand, seemed entirely uninterested in the food, taking a few large gulps of ale instead.

“A while,” she said, as if repeating it explained anything. “I dinnae ken how long, but I ken it willnae be a simple task.”

“I dinnae even ken what the task is!” Alaric pointed out, pointing his spoon at her in an accusatory manner. “Ye’ve told me naethin’ about yer plan an’ yet ye expect me tae dae as ye say!”

“Keep yer voice down,” Lucia hissed, slamming her hand on the table as she leaned over it to glare at Alaric. The sudden outburst startled him, but he was slowly beginning to understand Lucia was nothing like the other women in his life. She had not been raised by governesses or with the expectations of a lady, yet neither did she have the mild manners of the peasant girls he had met before. She was something else entirely, something which defied categorization. “I’ll tell ye if ye promise ye willnae panic.”

“Panic?” Alaric asked with a frown, his heartbeat already kicking up a notch. “I’m a warrior. I dinnae panic.”

The look Lucia gave him was an unimpressed one. “Ye seem tae be panickin’ already.”

“I’m nae panickin’,” Alaric insisted. “But ye cannae tell me tae nae panic an’ nae expect me tae be at least a wee concerned about what ye’ll tell me.”

For a moment, Lucia stared at him in silence. Then, she said, “I suppose that is fair. Well… here is the plan, then.”

Alaric waited with bated breath, but Lucia didn’t speak. Instead, she looked around the room, eyes once again searching for a threat that didn’t seem to be there, and despite her warningthat Alaric shouldn’t panic, he found it increasingly difficult to remain calm.

What is it tae which I agreed? Why is she so scared?

“Alright,” said Lucia, taking a deep breath as she leaned even closer over the table, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I need tae infiltrate the Ravencloaks.”

Alaric laughed. He couldn’t help it, since surely, it had to be a joke. He was well aware of the Ravencloaks and their reputation around those parts, and he doubted anyone in their right mind would try to infiltrate an organization of mercenaries, let alone one as savage and vicious as them.

Lucia, though, wasn’t laughing, and so Alaric’s laughter quickly faded and was promptly replaced by a chilling sense of dread.

“Ye’re jestin’, surely,” he said, but Lucia only shook her head. “The Ravencloaks? Dae ye have any idea who they are? How many people they have killed?”

“Aye,” said Lucia, her gaze hardening. “An’ one o’ them was me braither.”

Alaric cursed under his breath. Lucia’s desire to infiltrate the mercenaries was not a simple whim, then, but a quest for revenge, and Alaric knew how persistent people who sought revenge could be. Looking at her in the dim light of the tavern, he could see the determination written plainly in her features,in the clench of her jaw and the narrowed eyes, in the challenge held in her gaze as if she was daring him to take back his word.

Alaric couldn’t, of course. He was bound by honor, as he had already promised Lucia he would help her if she helped him, and she had held up her end of the bargain. If he backed out now, he would be betraying all the ideals he held so dear.

Still, this was madness, and he needed Lucia to know that.

“Dae ye understand how dangerous what ye’re suggestin’ is?” he asked. “If we’re nae careful?—”

“We’ll be careful.”

“Even if we are careful,” Alaric said with a sigh, already frustrated by how easy it was for Lucia to disregard his concerns, “there is nay guarantee that either o’ us will survive this. Ye said it wouldnae be disgraceful an’ it wouldnae affect me clan, but I could end up dead. Ye never said anythin’ about that.”

“Ye could end up dead any day,” Lucia pointed out with a shrug, seemingly unbothered by the thought. “Ye’re a warrior, are ye nae? Or dae ye send men tae battle in yer place while ye stand behind the walls an’ watch?”

Alaric’s blood rushed to his head at the accusation, worsening his already terrible headache. He, too, leaned over the table until their faces were so close that his nose brushed against Lucia’s, baring his teeth as he spoke.

“It’s best tae say naethin’ if ye dinnae ken what it is ye’re sayin’,” he told her. “I’ve never once stayed behind the walls.”

“Then why are ye so afraid?” Lucia asked. She stayed precisely where she was, as if Alaric’s presence and proximity did nothing to intimidate her, which was as confusing to him as it was alluring. Only very few people didn’t cower in fear near him when he was angry—those who knew him well enough to understand that his rough appearance had nothing to do with his milder temperament. But Lucia didn’t know him at all and yet she was still comfortable around him, as if she was certain he wouldn’t hurt her.

Or as if she was certain he couldn’t.

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