Laird of Shadows by Eliza Knight

Author:Eliza Knight
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-03-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

One tiny kiss from Elle Cam’béal and an inexperienced kiss at that, and Beiste had been ready to shed his clothes. He rode his mount hard, fast, trying to rid himself of the need he’d felt for her. ’Twas overwhelming.

The lass was unlike any other he’d known. Strong. Mo chreach was she strong. And he admired that. To have witnessed her parents’ brutal death, and still been able to flee for days on end by herself. To tell him she’d die for her brother, to willingly offer that life up to him. There were some men he knew who’d be wary for doing half of that.

Aye, she’d garnered his respect with her strength, her loyalty.

She’d garnered something else, too, when she’d stood beside him on the beach, tears streaming down her face, and being the pillar he needed in that moment. Sentiments he’d thought would never come to cross his heart. Affection. Need.

’Twas the reason he’d asked her to have a drink with him. The reason he’d shared his passion for grapes. He’d needed to see, if those feelings were real, or simply his overwhelmed heart reaching for the nearest person.

What he’d learned staring at her beneath the arbor was that his sentiments were palpable, and gaining in potency.

And that kiss…

The desire he’d felt for her. The need to wrap her up in his arms and claim her for his own, it had been like a mace to the head.

Beiste wanted her.

Needed her.

And that was why he’d left. Before he decided he didn’t need to know about the sword, about the past and the secrets she held.

Beneath him, his mount’s muscles rippled with the exertion of their journey. They owned the moors, riding hard over the tall grasses and tamped down roads. Easily climbing the mountains and fording the winding rivers that separated Beiste’s lands from Castle Gloom.

Every difficulty they passed he wondered just how Elle had been able to do it alone, and his admiration only grew.

The warriors rode through the evening and, finally, in the dead of night, they were upon the fortress, staring down over the moonlit castle.

All was quiet.

Too quiet.

Not even a torch lit upon the ramparts.

Beiste narrowed his eyes, his skin prickling. What in bloody hell was going on? For a castle that had been besieged by the enemy, the place looked deserted. Abandoned. Not the site of a siege or massacre.

“None of the Vikings escaped their camp?” Beiste asked Gunnar who’d led the elite out into the field to take care of their enemies camped outside his own walls before they’d left.

“None, my laird. And no scouts that we could make out.”

If none had escaped, then there was no way the Vikings who’d attacked Dunstaffnage could have gotten word back to Castle Gloom regarding his impending arrival. So what was happening? Was it a trap? Had the Vikings known all along? Perhaps guessed that once he’d defeated the men set upon his own castle that his next move would be Castle Gloom?

Was the

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