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)
Boyce shook his head. “You’ve gone and done it now.”
Rhodes’s eyes narrowed. “And what have I done, besides claim what is mine?”
“There are mumbles about her,” Boyce said carefully. “Whispers that she’s a witch.”
Rhodes turned sharply, dark brows lifting. “A witch? For what reason?”
“Because she lives alone in the woods,” Boyce said, lowering his voice as though the stones themselves might be listening. “No kin nearby, no husband, no protection but her own. Animals are drawn to her, follow her as though she commands them. She protects them fiercely, and they in turn protect her. Men say she can soothe a wild beast with a single touch.”
Rhodes was silent for a long moment, his thoughts turning over like grinding stone. The image of her fiery hair, her bold green eyes, her fearless defiance rose again in his mind, along with the kitten purring in her arms as though it had belonged there always.
Instead of unease, something else stirred in him. Interest. Curiosity. Hunger sharper than any battle had stirred in years.
He leaned back against the table, his smile deepening. “She’s a challenge.”
“How so?”
Rhodes kept his voice low. “I’ve never ruled a witch.”
Boyce frowned. “That’s not a challenge that can be won.”
Rhodes’s gaze once again went to the doors where Fawn had vanished. “You forget I am never defeated, and this is one challenge I look forward to winning.”
Fawn swept out of the Great Hall, her boots striking hard against the worn stone steps. The winter air bit her cheeks, but her fury kept her warm. The kitten burrowed into the crook of her arm, its small head pressed beneath her chin, purring as though he agreed with her every thought and word.
“Wife, indeed,” she muttered, her curls bouncing with every determined step. “Arrogant laird. He thinks he can claim me like a penned ewe. He’s mad if he believes it. Completely and utterly insane.”
She crossed the yard into the village, walking past a row of cottages. A few folks looked her way but quickly dropped their gazes, scurrying off before she could speak. She was used to that, used to the way whispers followed her, a reason she rarely came to the village.
Witch, some called her. Trouble, others said. It mattered little. She had her cottage, her woods, her beasts. That was all she needed.
“Fawn?”
The familiar voice pulled her up short. Sara, Boyce’s wife, stood on the path with a basket on her arm, her round cheeks pink from the cold, and her dark braid falling over one shoulder.
Her eyes warmed instantly. “What troubles you, Fawn?”
Fawn let out a huff, hugging the kitten closer. “Your clan’s laird is what troubles me. Bold as brass, declaring I’m to be his wife, as if I’ve no say in my own life.”
Sara’s brows rose. “He said that? In the hall?”
“Aye, and in front of his men.” Fawn’s jaw clenched. “If he thinks I’ll bow, he’s in for a disappointment.”
Sara’s eyes darted toward the keep. “That does sound like Rhodes. He’s as stubborn as they come.” She reached out to stroke the kitten, who promptly stretched into her touch with a pleased little sigh. “But you’re every bit as stubborn. I’ve always said his stubbornness will be his undoing if he’s not careful. Yours too, so pay heed.”
Fawn’s shoulders eased a fraction. Sara had been her only friend for as long as she had been here, about three years, having come across each other in the woods one day. She was the one who did not fear her or turned away at whispers.
“Boyce won’t like it,” Fawn murmured, “you speaking with me.”
Sara lowered her voice, though her chin rose a bit in defiance. “Boyce doesn’t like much when it comes to you. He says people call you a witch and that I ought to keep my distance.”
Fawn rolled her eyes. “A witch, because I live alone and care for creatures no one else bothers with. If that’s witchcraft, then perhaps I am one.”
Sara laughed, slipping the basket higher on her arm. “Let them whisper. I know better. You have a good heart, Fawn. And if Rhodes thinks to trap you in marriage against your will…” Her expression softened into something like pity. “Then the poor man doesn’t yet realize what he’s brought upon himself.”
Fawn tightened her hold on the kitten and started toward the edge of the village, her voice a low promise to herself. “He’ll find out soon enough.”
CHAPTER 3
Rhodes sat at the long table in the Great Hall, his fingers drumming once against the wood as another laird bowed before him.
“’Tis all I ask, my lord,” the man said, keeping his head lowered, his voice too quick, too eager. “Permission for my men to cut timber on the far slope. We will take only what is needful, nothing more. The land is yours, of course, as is the right for you to decide.”