Lydia laughed, as if she thought Kieran was making a joke. But the truth of the matter was that he was entirely serious, and she seemed to realize that when he pinned her with a strict gaze that told her he was not joking at all.
“Surely, ye jest,” she said flatly, only for Kieran to scoff.
“It’s nae a jest,” he assured her. “I told ye, if I’m nae near, then Michael is responsible for ye, but now that Michael allowed this to happen, I’m nae lettin’ ye out of me sight. I cannae trust anyone else to protect ye.”
Lydia let out a long, deep sigh, just as Fenella finished dressing her arm. Kieran’s gaze was drawn to that dressing, watching as a few drops of blood crimsoned its surface.
“I shall… bring a calmin’ brew, Me Laird,” Fenella said and quickly disappeared into the back room, leaving the two of them alone.
For a few moments, there was nothing between them but silence, the only sound in the room that of the wind as it ruffled the bundles of herbs that hung from the ceiling rafters to dry.The air in the cottage was crisp and dry, filled with the scent of lavender and thyme and under it, another, more pungent smell—that of the tinctures and brews that Fenella prepared for the sick and the injured.
“Kieran, I am perfectly fine,” Lydia said in a gentle tone, trying to reason with him. “Daenae fash. Michael did his job, and he did it well. He’s the reason why I’m sittin’ here now. Well… he and Chloe.”
“How can ye say ye’re fine?” Kieran asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation before gesturing to her forearm. “Do ye nae see that? Do ye nae see that ye’re injured?”
“Aye, so I am,” she said. “But Michael isnae to blame for this. I was attacked, Kieran. It’s a miracle I came out of it with nary a serious injury. It’s only a small wound, and it shall heal. And all of this because of Michael because he was there to stop them.”
A whole castle full of guards and she was still injured. I should have been with her. Why should I trust anyone else with this? They’ve shown me they’re all useless.
“Ye’ll nae leave me side,” Kieran insisted, his tone making his decision sound final. “Have I made meself understood? Where I go, ye go.”
Lydia shook her head with a humorless laugh as she pushed herself off the bed and dusted her skirts, her good hand coming up to smooth her hair back off her face, quickly fixing the strands that must have fallen out of her braid in the struggle.
“Ye’re delusional if ye think I will follow ye everywhere.”
Rage coursed like fire in Kieran’s veins. He took a few steps towards her, blocking her way as she tried to leave the cottage, only for Lydia to sidestep him—or at least try before he blocked her way once more. She stopped and stared at him, half indignant and half in disbelief, but Kieran wasn’t going to let her go that easily.
“Ye speak as if ye have a choice,” he said, and it was only moments later that he realized he said the entirely wrong thing.
“Excuse me” Lydia scoffed, straightening her spine. “Do ye hear how ridiculous ye sound? I have nay choice? Will ye simply… will ye simply suffocate me until I give ye nay resistance? Is that yer grand plan?”
Kieran frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “If ye think I’m suffocatin’ ye because I’m tryin’ to save yer life, then I daenae ken what to tell ye.”
“Daenae tell me anythin’,” said Lydia. “But daenae try to keep me imprisoned in the keep either.”
“I’m tryin’ to save yer life!” Kieran roared. His anger had gotten the better of him, and even he flinched at the volume of his voice when it echoed off the walls. For a moment, Lydia froze, swallowing audibly as she stared at him with wide eyes, and Kieran sighed, deflating as the air left his lungs. “I’m tryin’ to save yer life.”
The second time was gentler, quiet, barely more than a breath. Lydia softened, too, her expression sweetening her delicate features.
Under the golden light of mid-morning, she seemed to glow—her hair a halo around her face, her pale skin like porcelain, untouched by sun and salt. The sunbeams streaming in through the windows seemed to have reached the cottage just to shine on her, just to brush over her skin.
She’ looks carved from light.
Never before had Kieran found a woman as enchanting as he found her. Never before had his pulse quickened like this, his stomach tying itself in knots at the mere sight of someone. And yet now, he was completely under her spell, eager to please her, to own her, to protect her from any harm that could befall her.
And she wouldn’t let him.
It unsettled him, how quickly he had abandoned his duties for her and how shaken he was by this attack. A part of him, a small, traitorous part of his mind, whispered to him that he had failed again and again and that he should have already found the man who killed his wives and was now trying to harm her. He hadn’t done a single thing; he had allowed the killer to walk away free, and now, he was once again paying the price for it.
But this time, he wouldn’t fail; this time, he would find him.
“May I go now?” Lydia asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I wish to rest.”
Kieran gave a small nod, stepping aside for her to pass, but then he followed her closely, reluctant to leave her out of his sight, and Lydia allowed it with nothing but a sigh.
She’ll be used to it soon. And it’s only until I find the killer.
CHAPTER TEN
