Two men carrying firewood slowed, then stopped just out of reach, pretending to shift their bundles but their eyes were fixed on the laird and his new wife. A woman drew her child close and hushed him as she lingered nearby.
Rhodes’s jaw tightened. “You forget yourself, wife.”
“I forget nothing,” she countered, chin lifting. “Least of all that I belong to no man’s command. Not even yours.”
More villagers gathered now, cautious but unwilling to miss the clash. Their low murmurs carried like a restless wind, though they kept their distance.
Rhodes’s eyes darkened. “Your beasts will not come before me. Not your wolves, not your strays. Your place is here, tending to me and the clan.”
Fawn’s eyes blazed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “That is not for you to decide. I will never be an obedient wife, Rhodes. You insisted on wedding me, and you’ll have me as I am—not as you wish me to be.”
A murmur rippled through the onlookers, though no one dared to move closer.
Rhodes’s voice dropped low, taut with control, his gaze burning into hers. “Bloody hell, Fawn, you test my patience.”
“And you test my tem?—”
Before the word was finished, Rhodes’s hand shot out, dragging her hard against him, Sprig jumping out of the pouch with a screech, before his mouth crushed down on hers in a fierce, unrelenting kiss.
Gasps erupted from the crowd, sharp as the crack of ice. The falling snow hushed the village as the pair stood locked together, fire and fury colliding while their people watched.
For a breathless moment she fought him, her fists pressed against his chest but instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled into the thick wool of his cloak. His mouth was fire, fierce and demanding, yet beneath it she felt something else, something that made her knees weaken against her will.
Rhodes tightened his hold, one hand splayed at her back, drawing her closer as though he meant to brand her as his before all who watched. He’d meant to silence her, to show her and his clan who held command—yet the taste of her undid him. She was wild heat and defiance, and he could no more stop himself than he could stop the snow from falling.
The crowd murmured, some gasping still, others whispering low, but neither of them seemed to hear.
When he finally broke the kiss, his breath was rough, his forehead brushing hers, his dark eyes blazing with more than anger.
Fawn’s lips tingled, her heart hammering. She was annoyed at the flutter in her stomach, for the way her body had melted even as her spirit raged. She jerked back, her breath unsteady, and the murmur of villagers rose again at the sight of her flushed cheeks and blazing eyes.
Rhodes’s mouth curved, slow and dangerous, as though he knew she would rather face a pack of wolves than admit what had just passed between them.
She wanted to shout at him, to claw back every shred of dignity his embrace had stolen, but the weight of the villagers’ eyes pressed in on her.
Arguing with him now, before his clan, would do her little good.
She swallowed hard, fury simmering beneath her skin, but what unsettled her most was the truth she dared not admit aloud… the way her body had betrayed her. The way her heart still pounded, and not with anger alone. Good Lord, was there more to what she felt for him? The thought only stoked her ire further.
Rhodes’s hand clamped around her arm, his grip firm as iron. “To the keep,” he ordered, his voice sharp, leaving no room for disobedience.
He’d barely taken a step when Boyce’s voice carried across the lane. “My lord!”
Rhodes turned, annoyance flashing in his eyes.
Boyce strode toward him. “A matter that needs your attention.”
Rhodes’s grip on her arm tightened once more before he released her. “Go to the keep,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Wait for me there.”
Fawn lifted her chin but said nothing. She turned, walking with measured steps toward the keep and hearing Sprig cry out, stopped and scooped him up when he reached her. The villagers’stares followed her until she was far enough away from them and Rhodes gone from sight. Only then did she veer from the path, her pace quickening, her breath rising sharp in the cold air. The forest loomed ahead, silent and waiting, and without a glance behind her, she slipped into its shadows, vanishing from the village’s watchful eyes.
Fawn kept her steps swift until the village was far behind, until the keep’s looming walls were lost to the trees. Only then did she slow her pace and calm her breath.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could still the wild beat of her heart. What madness is this? That a kiss—forced and unyielding—should leave her trembling not with fury alone, but with something far more dangerous.
She shook her head, muttering aloud as she wove deeper into the forest toward her home. “I will not fall to him. I will not. He may command a clan, but he will never command me.”
Above, squirrels darted along frosted branches, their claws clicking softly against the bark. A fox slipped across her path, pausing long enough to glance back at her before vanishing into the undergrowth. A bird called, sharp and clear, then another answered from deeper in the woods.
