He closed his eyes, thinking sleep would elude him like it had been doing. It didn’t. The heat from the woman’s body, the way she rested comfortably in his arms, and the pleasant scent of her hair lolled him to sleep.
Willow stirred and moaned, aches assaulting her entire body and reminding her of her dire circumstances. She kept her eyes closed… almost. Her eyelids fluttered lightly and she got a glimpse of the chest her head rested on. A stranger she shared this god-awful hole with, though after their brief conversation last night he wasn’t a complete stranger. Not that she needed to know he’d been too long without a woman. However, she had been grateful and relieved that he had kept his hands off her. But for how long?
At least with it being morning, she’d get a look at him. A face could tell a lot about a person. She would be able to measure his character better by being able to see him when they spoke.
She shifted slightly, needing to ease some of the stiff aches out of her body, but stilled when she felt him grow aroused against her.
“My apologies, he often stirs, sometimes even before I wake in the morning, and even more so when enticed.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I know it wasn’t intentional, but let’s stay aware of the close quarters we share.”
“Of course,” Willow said and decided it was best she introduce herself so he could do the same. She raised her head slowly. “I’m—”
“Willow?”
“Slatter?”
They both stared at each other.
Willow couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Slatter the man who had set fire to a couple of sheds the same night her father had accidentally set a fire in the keep that led to her mum’s death and had been responsible for her sister going blind. James had returned home with him after going to see Lord Cree of the Clan Carrick. Lord Cree had captured Slatter and had handed him over to James to face punishment for his crime. With no cell to hold him, James had turned him over to Tarass, the Lord of Fire to be imprisoned there and his fate determined.
She had treated a wound he had received when he had tried to escape unsuccessfully. She had been warned about him before she had been allowed to enter the cell to tend him.
“He mesmerizes the women with his devilish tongue and his exceptionally fine features, then they do his bidding without question. So watch yourself, lass, or he’ll have you under his wicked spell in no time,” the guard had warned her. “It was how he almost escaped. A woman helped him.”
Willow had been skeptical, but she realized the truth of the guard’s words at first sight of Slatter. He had the most stunning features for a man that it was difficult if not impossible not to stare at him or get lost in his good looks. Though, it was his dark eyes that actually captivated the attention. There was a passion in them that seemed to reach out and stroke you without even laying a hand on you. It was one time she had been grateful for her practical nature. And with being in such close quarters with him, she reminded herself that she needed to keep hold of sound reason or like others, she would surrender to the devil.
They both questioned at the same time. “What are you doing here?”
“You first, leannan,” Slatter offered.
And there it was, his charming tongue, calling her sweetheart. Willow promptly ignored it. “I was returning from visiting my sister Sorrell and her new husband when the troop escorting me home was attacked. Beck’s men outnumbered Northwick warriors, though they fought bravely.”
“Beck attacked a Northwick troop?” Slatter shook his head. “He’s beyond a fool. Ruddock will see him suffer and die for this.”
Willow had caught a flash of shock in his dark eyes at the news. “You know Ruddock?”
“I know how powerful a man he is,” Slatter said and shook his head. “He wed your sister Sorrell of his own free will?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Willow snapped, catching a humorous glint in his eyes.
“Ruddock is a big man, Sorrell not so much. He’s also a man of few words, Sorrell definitely not so much.”
His chuckle sounded loud in the confined space and she felt the rumble of his body resonate against her own. “How do you know this?”
“Tongues wag even in a dungeon.”
“Or perhaps your charming tongue gets them wagging,” Willow suggested.
“Jealous?” he asked, a wicked smile surfacing.
His accusation annoyed her, but his smile sent her stomach fluttering madly. Even with dirt marring his features, he was far too handsome.
“Why would I be jealous?” she asked calmly while the flutters continued to torment her.
“You’re a practical, dependable woman, Willow. People turn to you out of need and for guidance, but when else? And when was the last time anyone told you that you were beautiful, leannan?”