Elune’s eyes darkened, her fingers tightening around her shawl. “Or there could be something darker afoot than hungry beasts.”
Fawn frowned. “Darker?”
The old woman’s voice turned to a whisper. “Magic, lass. Perhaps not the wild kind you know, the kind that draws creatures to you, but magic twisted, bent to cruelty. I have seen it before. A hand guiding what should not be guided.”
Fawn stiffened, her heart leaping at the word and Sprig returning to her lap as if he sensed danger.
Magic.
The very thing her mother could sometimes wield unwisely.
“You think this was done by dark magic?” Fawn asked, not having given it a thought.
“I think it is possible. And if so, then there is more at stake than sheep, more even than your clan. There are powers that do not forgive trespass into their realm.”
A shiver slid down Fawn’s spine despite the warmth of the hot brew and the hearth’s heat.
Elune’s eyes lingered on Fawn’s, shadowed with worry. “Be careful. Trouble like this does not stir without reason.”
Fawn tightened her hands around the cup, the chamomile brew suddenly tasting bitter on her tongue. Elune’s quiet warning pressed heavy on her chest, but Fawn forced a small smile.
“You’re safe here now. That’s what matters.”
Elune gave her a long, searching look, then patted her hand. “Safe for the moment, aye. But you, lass… take care with the laird. The wolves may not have harmed you, but men are another matter.”
Fawn tucked Sprig into the pouch and rose, setting her empty cup aside. “I’ll manage him.”
She left the cottage with those words still clinging to her lips. Outside, snow drifted softly across the village, and as she turned down the lane, she nearly collided with the man himself.
Rhodes filled the narrow way, his cloak dusted white, his dark gaze sweeping over her at once. His hand shot out, steadying her by the arm.
“You slip from me too easily,” he muttered, his tone rough but threaded with something else, relief, perhaps, though he masked it well.
Fawn lifted her chin, her heart leaping in spite of herself. “Perhaps you don’t hold tight enough.”
His mouth curved faintly, dangerously. “Oh, I hold plenty tight, wife. Don’t tempt me to prove it.”
The heat in his gaze sparked against hers, warming her far more than the cloak drawn about her shoulders. For a long moment, neither moved, the hush of falling snow wrapping them in their own small world.
The warmth of his hand lingered on her arm, his nearness too unsettling, and Fawn drew in a steadying breath. She brought herself back to the moment, forcing her heart to still.
“I will return to my cottage,” she said firmly. “There are wounded creatures that need tending, and I will be back in the morning.”
Rhodes’s dark brows lifted, and a laugh rumbled low in his chest. “Have you forgotten so quickly, lass? You are my wife now. Your place is here, with me. Not running back to your beasts.”
Fawn’s chin tilted higher, but her pulse quickened all the same.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping rough and deliberate. “And besides… our vows are not yet sealed. The marriage must be consummated.”
She stared at him for several heartbeats, several breaths, fire sparking in her green eyes, and two words shot with the speed of a released arrow from her mouth. “Not tonight.”
CHAPTER 12
Rhodes leaned down until his face was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek. His dark eyes locked on hers, unbending.
“You’ll not be going anywhere without my permission.”
Fawn’s lips curved, though her heart thudded in her chest. “That’s not likely,” she shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut through the cold.
