Still… his jaw tightened. He would find her, the shadow in the woods, and see if she was in any way involved in this. And if she thought to rob him of what was his, she would learn the folly of crossing him.
He dragged in a breath, forcing his shoulders to ease. The scent of roasted meat from the kitchens drifted faintly through the door, a reminder that the evening meal drew near. His mouth curved into a slow smile. He had plans for tonight and they didn’t include sharing Fawn with anyone.
He stepped out of his solar and made his way to the kitchen, servants turning wide-eyed after stepping aside for him to pass, since he never went to the kitchen. The chaos of supper preparations went silent when Rhodes entered. Eyes rounded and mouths set agape at his unusual presence.
“See that my and my wife’s supper is brought to our bedchamber and see that there is extra wine as well,” Rhodes commanded, then turned and left.
It took a while before anyone moved and then whispers started circulating.
Rhodes entered the turret, and for a moment he stood motionless, the sight of the room catching him off guard.
The fire cast a warm glow over the chamber, the baskets settled in place, the creatures resting quietly as though they had always belonged there. A faint, sweet scent lingered in the air, herbs steeped in the hearth’s heat, the kind of fragrance that spoke of comfort and home.
Her comforting touch, he thought grimly. Already she had transformed the space, claimed it, made it hers. And the realization stung him with a sharp, unexpected jealousy. This place, these animals, these simple comforts, they held her heart as surely as he did.
He strode forward, sweeping her into his arms before she could react.
“Rhodes!” she gasped, her arms instinctively circling his neck.
“You best be done,” he said, walking toward the door. “Now you are all mine.”
She didn’t protest, which led him to believe her task was done and she did not object to time with him. He carried her through the corridors, his steps purposeful. Servants scurried out of his way, casting curious glances that he did not bother to return. He reached their bedchamber, pushing the door open with his shoulder.
Inside, the last of the servants were laying out dishes, setting a jug of wine within easy reach. At the sight of their laird carrying his wife, they bobbed their heads quickly and fled, leaving the chamber to them.
The table gleamed with roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming bowls of stew, but Fawn barely glanced at it.
She pressed her lips softly to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, warmth in her voice. “For having our supper brought here.”
He lowered her to her feet but did not let go of her hand.
“I was too tired to deal with other people tonight.” She raised her eyes to meet his, soft but certain. “I much prefer to be alone with you.”
Something sparked in his dark gaze, pleasure, fierce and unexpected, but he said nothing, only held her hand a moment longer before releasing it.
Fawn smiled suddenly and slipped from his grasp, hurrying to the table. “I’m starving,” she said, reaching eagerly for a piece of bread.
Rhodes’s gaze followed her, hunger of another kind flaring in his eyes. He strode to her side, his hand brushing lightly over her shoulder before he sat opposite her.
“Eat,” he said, his voice low and rough with promise. “Eat and gather your strength because I intend to linger when I make love to you tonight.”
Her hand faltered midway to snatching the bread. She snatched up a chunk of cheese instead, stuffing it quickly past her lips so he would not see her mouth drop open.
Make love.
The words struck her harder than any command. He had never spoken them before, never spoken of love at all. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her heart tumbled against her ribs. Did he mean it, or had the words merely slipped past his guard? Could Rhodes, fierce, unyielding laird, truly love her?
She dared not ask. Not yet.
Fawn finished chewing the cheese in her mouth before he could read her expression, then hastily turned the talk. “Did you hear anything of wolfhounds nearby?”
Rhodes tore a piece of bread off the loaf. “One of the men I sent out returned this afternoon. Nothing. No trace of wolfhounds in the nearby villages.”
They exchanged possible ideas about the wolfhounds as the fire snapped and hissed, and the wind rattled the shutters. Thenfor a time, they ate in companionable silence, the warmth of the food easing the day’s edge.
When her plate emptied, Rhodes leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. “When the weather clears, you’ll send word to your parents about our wedding. I will meet them.”
The bite of bread in her hand stilled. Her heart thudded. Meet them? Panic pricked at the edges of her calm.
