Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
The storm had ended, the snow nearly reaching Rhodes’s ankles as he walked toward Boyce and several of his warriors. The relentless wind had left snowdrifts that would hamper travel and the horses stamped and snorted, their breaths rising white into the cold air.
Boyce stood waiting, his cloak dusted with frost, his stance solid as ever.
Rhodes strode to him, demanding, “Is there news?”
Boyce shook his head. “Not yet. The men who left before the storm worsened should return today, since I only sent them to the nearby villages to inquire about wolfhounds. If any keep them, or if some have gone missing, we’ll know soon enough.”
Rhodes’s jaw tightened. “The culprit thought to leave me vulnerable. He wants my people to suddenly question my strength.”
“They’ll not doubt for long,” Boyce said, his tone steady. “When the one responsible is found, all will know your hand is still iron.”
Rhodes’s gaze narrowed on the tree line. “It should not take this much time. A whisper, a slip of a tongue, something should have reached us already.”
“Unless,” Boyce said carefully, “the one who loosed those hounds meant to leave no trace. A hidden enemy is the most dangerous kind.”
Rhodes’s temper sparked hotter at the truth of it, though more disturbing was the thought that continued to linger. What if dark forces had a hand in it? How did he battle that? How did he even dare to speak of such horror?
“There is more on your mind?” Boyce asked, catching the way Rhodes’s eyes narrowed, and his nose flared in anger.
Rhodes tempered his anger but kept a firm tone. “There is always more on my mind, always possibilities to consider, decisions to be made, a clan to protect, to keep safe.”
“And there is not a clan member who believes it will be otherwise than it has always been. They are confident you can continue to be the powerful laird you are.”
Rhodes arched his brow. “Stroking my ego, Boyce.”
Boyce grinned. “Your ego needs no stroking, my lord.”
“So now you tell me I have a huge ego?” Rhodes asked with a smirk.
Boyce quickly turned his glance on the cottage. “Why does your wife linger so long. We waste the morning and possibly miss our men returning with news.”
Rhodes didn’t utter a word, he simply took strong steps to the cottage.
Warmth and the scent of herbs wrapped around him as soon as he entered. Fawn stood in the center of the room, her hair loose about her shoulders, slipping off the linen apron that covered her garments. She tossed it on the table and bent to stroke Ash, then lifted her face to the rafters where the doves cooed, her voice gentle and low.
“You’ll all be safe,” she said to them as if speaking to children. “I’ll return today, I promise. We’ll go to the keep together, to our new home.”
Rhodes’s mouth hardened. He lifted her cloak from its peg by the door, strode forward, and draped it firmly over her shoulders.
“No more delays,” he said, his voice edged with a stern command.
Before she could protest, he scooped Sprig up from the table where the kitten had nested on the discarded apron, dropped him into the pouch stitched to her cloak, and settled the folds over him. Sprig poked his head out with a soft mewl, eyes bright.
With a firm grip on Fawn’s arm, Rhodes turned her toward the door. “It’s time.”
She looked back once, her gaze sweeping over her friends, certain she saw worry in their eyes.
“I’ll return for you,” she called out fiercely.
Then, with her husband’s unrelenting hand guiding her, she was forced from the cottage into the waiting cold.
CHAPTER 16
The heavy doors of the Great Hall closed behind them, the warmth within a welcome rush after the bitter wind. Torches burned along the walls, throwing golden light over the long tables where the morning meal had only just ended. The air still carried the savory scent of broth and bread mingled with the tang of pine logs snapping in the hearth.
Rhodes guided Fawn forward, his hand a steady weight at the small of her back. She stiffened slightly at his touch but did not pull away.
“You’ll remain close,” he said under his breath, his tone more warning than request.
Her chin tilted upward. “And when will we return to the cottage?”
He studied her then, not her face, but the quiet intensity with which she asked, the way her fingers brushed Sprig’s small head where he peeked from her cloak. She spoke not of gowns or keepsakes, but of creatures who relied upon her care. It struck him fully in that moment, her heart tethered itself more to a fox, an owl, and a handful of winged strays than to any possession. They were her kin as much as her clan would ever be.
“Soon,” he said at last.