Page 34 of Laird of Wrath

He stepped closer to her, gently taking her hands in his own and holding them as he examined her palms. He was silent the entire time, and so was she. She merely stared at him through her lashes, her rosy lips slightly parted, drawing in air.

“Are ye sure ye’re all right?” he asked.

She nodded a few times, letting him hold her hands for a while longer.

He could hardly control his fury, his fear. His shoulders were tense, and his hands were gripping hers tightly, as if he feared she would simply fade away if he didn’t hold onto her.

Rhea looked at him, her gaze searching, though she said nothing for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “I’m fine, Callum. Truly. Daenae fash. I hardly got hurt.”

“Ye could have gotten hurt badly,” he pointed out.

“Seeing how small the lassie is, I doubt it,” she said with a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

But Callum didn’t laugh. His expression was set in stone, a frown creasing his face as he thought of everything that could have gone wrong. It could have been someone else. It was only luck that whoever had bribed the girl had chosen her and not some brigand who was perfectly capable and willing to kill Rhea.

“She didnae act on her own,” he admitted after a moment of hesitation. The last thing he wanted was to worry Rhea, but she needed to know that someone had put the girl up to this, that she wasn’t safe. “She was bribed, Rhea. Someone paid her to attack ye.”

For a moment, Rhea didn’t speak. She only frowned, glancing over his shoulder as if she could still find the girl, though she was long gone.

Barclay must be behind it. Of course he is. Who else could it be?

“Damn that bastard,” Callum growled.

Rhea gasped in shock once more, though this time, she didn’t berate him for cursing.

“I kent this would happen, Rhea. I kent he would come after us.”

“Ye daenae ken for sure that it’s Laird Barclay,” she said sternly, immediately figuring out who he was talking about. “Ye daenae ken that, Callum. But even if it was him, it doesnae mean ye should leave. It doesnae mean ye have to go fight a losin’ war.”

“I willnae lose,” he stated automatically.

“Ye willnae go,” Rhea insisted. “I daenae want ye to go. Please, let us wait and see.”

Before she could say anything else, Callum pulled her into a kiss. It was his strategy now, distracting her so that they wouldn’t talk about the possibility of him leaving, as he had almost made up his mind.

He had to go. What other choice did he have?

But this wasn’t the time or the place to discuss this with her. In fact, he didn’t think there was a time and place for them to discuss it at all. This wasn’t something he was going to discuss with her. He was going to make a decision, and he would stick to it.

His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. He kissed her hard, deep, and her gasps reverberated through his body. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them until nothing else mattered. Until he forgot about the war, the fighting, the threats—everything that had been plaguing him for the better part of the past year.

By the time they broke apart, they were both panting, trying to catch their breath.

Callum stared into Rhea’s eyes, into that endless warm brown. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to lose himself in her, to never have to think about the things that troubled him anymore, but there was still so much work to be done. Especially now that there was a bigger threat than he could have anticipated.

“Let us head back,” he said, pulling her along as he began to walk away.

“What about everythin’ we need?” she asked.

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured her.

I’ll take care of everythin’.

11

Where is it comin’ from? What’s all this blood?

It was everywhere—on his hands, on his clothes, on Rhea’s face. She was staring up at him, her big brown eyes lifeless for the first time in his life. There was no spark in them. There was nothing but pain, nothing but agony, nothing but the darkness that came with death.