Page 13 of Scot of Deception
And then there was another question in her mind, one she didn’t want to entertain at all.
What is it that he fears here?
With those concerns, Kathleen eventually fell asleep. The next time she opened her eyes, she didn’t know how much time had passed since she had fallen asleep, nor did she know what had woken her.
It certainly wasn’t the sun, as it hadn’t yet risen. When she sat up on the bed, she saw that Blaine was awake, too, his back straight as he clutched his blade in his hand, his gaze glued to the door. He looked like a wild animal ready to pounce, rigid, his muscles corded. The entire room felt weighed down withtension, the embers of the dying fire only making the shadows on the walls appear larger.
And then, Kathleen knew what it was that had woken her. Through the small gap at the bottom of the door, she caught another shadow—a slow, measured movement, followed by the sound of footsteps.
Kathleen’s blood ran cold in her veins. Her worst fear had just come true; but who could it be? Had someone followed her there? Or had someone followed Blaine there? The latter was much more likely, given she didn’t have any enemies, at least none she knew of.
Could it be the Campbells?
Glancing at Blaine, Kathleen found him tilting his head towards the bed and pressing his index fingers against his lips, telling her silently to stay quiet. And perhaps for the first time in her life, Kathleen obeyed instantly. She had no desire to attract any attention to her and Blaine or do anything to put the two of them in danger. He was the one who knew what to do in situations like that, and it was time for Kathleen to trust him fully.
Second after agonizing second passed with the shadow lingering by their door. The stillness around them was oppressive—even the wind seemed to have stopped, the room plunged in absolute silence. Outside, small sounds still rang inthe night—the distant neigh of a horse, the rhythmicdrip-drip-dripof water from the corner of a roof, the footsteps of a group of drunkards returning to their homes. In that small room, there was nothing but silence and fear, and the bone-aching chill that came with them.
Time stretched and warped, and by the time the shadow retreated, Kathleen didn’t know how much time had passed. Only then did Blaine relax a little, his back falling against the side of the bed, but his blade never left his hand. He still clutched the hilt tightly, so much so that his knuckles had turned bone-white.
Could this have been nothing but a coincidence? Could the shadow have simply belonged to another patron, someone who was staying in one of the other rooms? Maybe both Kathleen and Blaine had been too suspicious after the attack from the Campbell men.
Or maybe we are right tae be cautious.
If this was truly someone who was after Kathleen, regardless of the reason, she was lucky that Blaine was there with her. She didn’t even want to consider what may have happened to her had she been alone, as she had originally planned. And only now, after being attacked once and potentially being followed, did she understand the true weight of her actions.
She had left the safety of her home, rushing off unthinkingly into danger. From the first moment she had stepped foot out of the castle grounds, she had simply assumed that everything would work out in her favor, that this journey would be as any other she had taken with her father and their guards, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.
She had tempted fate and was finding out how cruel it could be. And yet, she still refused to return home when Fenella needed her.
Blaine had half a mind to throw the door open and see what was on the other side. It could very easily be a Campbell soldier, someone who had followed them—Kathleen—there. It could even be one of the other patrons who thought they could try their luck with her, mistakenly thinking that Blaine wasn’t in the same room. Or it could simply be a coincidence, but that seemed like the least likely option to Blaine.
Either way, he didn’t sleep. He stayed where he was, with his back against the side of the bed, his gaze trained on the door and any hint of shadow that showed through the gap at the bottom. No matter how heavy his eyes got, no matter how much he craved sleep, he did his best to fight it, knowing very well that if he didn’t, they could very easily be in trouble.
Never had a man caught him by surprise, and it wouldn’t change now.
On the bed, Kathleen was once again restless, tossing and turning, just like she had at the start of the night. For a while, she had fallen asleep, and so had Blaine, but now neither of them seemed willing or capable of sleeping again.
After a while of silence, he felt her lean closer, her voice soft as she spoke.
“How come ye never let yer guard down?” she asked. “Ye’ve barely slept at all an’ the moment somethin’ was wrong, ye were awake. Daesnae it get tirin’?”
Of course it did. Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he had truly gotten some rest, no matter how well-deserved it was. He was always on the move, always working towards something, and the entire time, he couldn’t let his guard down even for a moment. He didn’t have the luxury of a castle or a sheltered life.
For a while, he didn’t respond. His gaze unfocused, the details of the room turning fuzzy in the dim light of the dying fire. He did wish he could close his eyes and rest but he kept them open, useless as that would now be in a sudden attack or fight.
“It isnae easy tae stop old habits,” he told Kathleen in the end. “I am a warrior. I am trained fer this. Anythin’ else… it’s unnatural tae me.”
Kathleen hummed softly but said nothing else. Blaine only heard her settle back onto the bed, tossing and turning for a while longer until she finally stopped. Whether or not she fell asleep, he didn’t know—he didn’t dare take a peek at her, not when he feared she would be watching.
And for the rest of the night, he stayed awake, guarding the door like a loyal beast.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dawn broke and, along with it, so did Blaine’s resolve.
He had spent the entire night awake—hours upon hours of waiting for something to happen, that didn’t. Still, doubt lingered in the back of his mind. The more he considered his task, the more he thought none of it was worth it. The stress, the fear that he would fail, the thought of every possible consequence if that were the case—it all started to build until it was all he could think about.
He had never failed a mission, and he wasn’t about to let this one be his first. And yet, the only solution he could think of was taking Kathleen back where she belonged—back to Moy Hall.
