“Ye were right,” she whispered. “It was beautiful.”
He chuckled and pulled her closer and murmured his last words before they both dozed off.
“Ye’re beautiful.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Jane woke up before dawn feeling sated and pleased. It took her a few seconds to realize she was in Darach’s chamber. A deep blush covered her as she discovered how she'd made her way here and how her had made her feel through the night.
She sat up suddenly to look at her side, but it was empty. Darach had somehow stepped out of the room while she was sleeping.
Her heart paused as she stared at the empty side of the bed. It slowly occurred to her that he might have snuck out because he already regretted what had happened between them.
She quickly threw the covers away from her body and flew out of the bed. Guilt and distress plagued her mind as she quickly donned her dress. She had to find her way out before any guards saw her sneaking out of the laird's chamber.
Jane crept out silently and stopped as she came around the corner of the hallway. She stared out into the shaded walls that stretched to the distance, and after ensuring no guard was lurking around the wall, she darted quickly across.
Where has he gone tae?
It bothered her mind. The man was a huge specimen of unpredictability and also the one man whose thoughts she could not read in the whole of Scotland. How fitting that he should be the one she fell into the sheets with and lost her maidenhead to.
It would have been good for her to know what he truly thought of her. He'd worshipped her body and told her sweet things, but did he truly believe them? Or had he just been making an effort for her to feel better?
This felt like punishment. The one man on earth whose thoughts she wished to learn were indecipherable. It could be worse, as she may have triggered a chain of events that led to her death. But it had been a delicious start to her doom. Her body still throbbed with the aftereffects of the feelings he'd instilled in her all night.
She'd felt most comfortable in his arms. Her own family and clan hadn’t made her feel as truly comfortable as she had felt with him. While she was an outcast in those things, she'd truly felt at home. There was no sign of judgement, pity, or resentment in his eyes. Even in Aileen’s gaze, her most favorite person in the world, she sometimes had seen pity. And Jane hated being pitied.
Her lips curled in a sad chuckle at the irony of the situation.
Her ability to read minds had forced her into a situation where she'd landed right into the arms of the man that would bring her demise. Her lips grew thin, and her upper lip curled into a snarl. It was a trial to her good nature to dwell on such matters. It only made her bitter and angry.
There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t change the past. Her only regret was that she hadn’t been able to seek clarity on most things that had happened and why they had happened.
Jane's eyes caught a quick movement in the shadows, and she dropped to the ground, thinking it was one of the guards on patrol.
She did not like to think of herself as a paranoid person, but when she saw the masked figure move quickly through the moonlit hallway toward the back rooms of the castle, she knew something was off. That man was not a guard, and he was no member of the court either. He looked dangerous.
What is he doing in the quarters so early in the day?
Jane followed him. She thought it seemed only prudent.
The intruder was big and wore a wide-brim black hat with a pelted coat over a tunic. There was a black mask covering his face.
Jane's breath caught in her throat as he uncoiled from his crouch with a lethal movement. He lunged at the man approaching him. He clobbered him. Jane realized who it was as she watched the victim fall. The attacker drew a dagger and reached the fallen man.
“Stop!” Jane screamed at the top of her lungs. The assailant came to a stop and turned toward her. A wildness in his eyes suggested he had suffered a fright, having not expected anyone to see him.
So she screamed once more, this time for the guards to come out. The assailant promptly looked around and fled into the darkness. A few of the guards that came from the corner went off immediately to chase after him, but Jane's eyes were riveted to the man slumped over on the floor. Blood dripped steadily onto the ground in a puddle.
Her heart clenched with worry. She imagined the pain he was feeling, and it broke her heart. The other guards danced from side to side around the body on the ground. They were obviously unused to seeing their laird sprawled in such a way.
“Get the healer!” she commanded.
Two of the men ran off into the distance eastwards of the keep, and Jane dropped down, pulling at Darach's tunic as she sought the source of all the blood. There was a huge rend in the clothing at his side, and when she pushed aside the torn garment, she gasped. A gash ran underneath his arm, and the flesh was flayed open. The wound was at least an inch deep.
Jane heaved. Thankfully it wasn’t deeper, for surely that would have been a mortal blow. This would certainly need needling and a lot of praying that he didn’t succumb to a fever. She ran her hands anxiously over his firm abdomen, trying her best to fight the tears threatening to stream down her cheeks. Darach was a strong warrior—he would survive this.
He had to.