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"Home to Buchanan," he said stiffly
.
Saidh shook her head with bewilderment. "Why would they take me to Buchanan?"
"Because 'tis obvious I am a poor excuse fer a husband and can no' keep ye safe," he said shortly.
Saidh snorted at the claim, but asked, "That is why ye were pacing so angrily? Ye blame yerself fer me injuries?"
"I am yer husband. I should ha'e kept ye safe," he said grimly.
"And ye did. Ye saved me and Alpin from Tilda in the bell tower," she pointed out with a shrug.
"No' before ye took yet more wounds."
"Me brothers were watching me when Tilda took me," she pointed out. "They were also supposed to be guarding me when Alpin and I slipped away to the gardens and got hurt. So, if ye want to blame anyone, blame them."
"Oy!" The shout came muffled through the door. It was followed by, "We can hear ye! These doors are thin."
"Then stop pressing yer ears to it and go below. I'm trying to talk to me husband here!" Saidh snapped and heard the shuffle of feet as her brothers moved away from the door. Honestly, they were like a heard of bulls the lot of them, she thought and then glanced back to Greer and said solemnly, "This is me home now. Me brothers ken I love ye. They'll no' be taking me anywhere."
Greer blinked as if uncertain he'd heard her right, or unable to process her words. "Ye love me?"
"Aye. Did I no' jest tell ye me brothers helped me sort that out?" she asked impatiently.
"Nay. Ye said ye want to hit me e'ery time I kiss ye, and would no' save me were the castle on fire," he snapped.
"Exactly," Saidh said with satisfaction. "That's how much I love ye."
"What?" he asked with disbelief. "Ye think the fact that ye'd rather hit me than kiss me and would leave me to die in a burning building means that ye love me?"
"That's no' what I meant," Saidh squawked, and then clucked under her tongue. "And I told them ye were clever."
"Wife," he said through his teeth.
Saidh sighed, and shook her head. "I would ne'er leave ye to die in a burning building," she said with exasperation, and explained, "Aulay asked me who I would save were the castle on fire, and I said Alpin, 'cause he was weakest. And he asked why no' you, and I said because ye'd already be up and about trying to drag me out o' the castle." She raised her eyebrows. "See? He says that's a sign that I trust and rely on ye, and I do. Like me da and brothers, ye're a brave, braugh man with a fine head on yer shoulders. I trust that ye'll always be there and ha'e me back. I can count on ye."
"Oh," Greer breathed, relaxing a little. Smiling crookedly, he took her hands. "That is one o' the things I love about ye too, Saidh. I love yer strength and yer stubbornness. The wildness that seems to flow through e'ery part o' yer body," he said with admiration and bent his head to kiss her. It started out a gentle drifting of his lips over hers, but quickly turned into something more carnal and heated as it always did when he kissed her.
Saidh moaned, and wrapped her arms around Greer's waist as desire and need began to bubble up within her, building to the point where she was desperate for an outlet. Something aggressive and physical. Tearing her mouth away, she turned her head to the side and gasped, "About the punching."
"I remember," he growled by her ear.
"Ye do?" she asked with confusion. "What do ye remember?"
"The stables," he reminded her, one hand drifting up her thigh under her skirt and she smiled as she recalled that day. Her telling him that the things he did to her made her want to punch him, and his showing her what she really wanted. How long ago it seemed now. A lifetime, she thought, and then pulled back to peer at him when his hand stilled.
"What is it?" she asked worriedly, afraid she was so unattractive now with all her bindings that he couldn't bear to touch her. Not one to shy from saying what she was thinking, she asked, "It it because I'm wrapped up in linens like a corpse?" Grimacing, she added, "I suppose 'tis hardly attractive."
"Saidh," he said seriously, cupping her face in both hands. "I will always find ye beautiful." He didn't kiss her then as she hoped, but added, "It's jest ye've so many wounds now, I'm afraid o' hurting ye."
"Then keep yer hands below the waist and yer lips above the neck," she suggested pragmatically, and added, "Because I feel like punching someone."
A short laugh slipped from Greer's lips and then he murmured, "As my lady wife demands," and urged her legs apart so that he could step between them. Pausing then, he caught her face in his hands again and said, "I do love ye, Saidh."
"And I love ye too, Greer," she assured him as his lips lowered to claim hers.
Keep reading
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Justin Bricker rolled the gurney stacked with dead rogues in front of the retort. After kicking the wheel locks to keep it in place, he then glanced to Anders, his partner in tonight's endeavor.
With his dark hair and skin and the black leather clothes he wore, Anders was like a shadow in the white room. He was presently looming over the crematorium technician who stood in the corner. The adult male mortal who had opened the back door at their knock now looked like little more than a naughty schoolboy put there for punishment by an irate teacher. Only the child's resentment was missing . . . the man's expression was blank as Anders worked to remove their arrival from his memories and keep him where he stood, safely out of the way.
When Anders relaxed and turned to walk toward him, Justin raised his eyebrows. "Are we good?"
Anders nodded. "But we have to be quick. His shift ends in fifteen minutes. A new guy will be showing up soon."
"No problem. We'll be out of here by then. As flammable as we are, these guys will be dust in minutes." Justin turned to open the door of the retort, and whistled at the wave of heat that blew out at him. He glanced to Anders as the other man reached his side. "So . . . what did you do to piss off Lucian?"
Rather than answer, Anders asked, "What makes you think I did anything to piss him off?"
Justin grinned. "Well, he gave me clean-up duty because I pissed him off. So I figure you must be in the same boat."
Anders merely grunted and pulled the top body off the stack to send it into the retort.
"Come on," Justin said as the flames shooting into the retort hit the body and it was set ablaze as if it were made of dry straw. "You must have done something."
Anders watched him pick up another body to send it into the retort. Finally, he said, "I might have made some joke or other about his missing so many meals at home since Leigh turned vegetarian."
Justin raised his eyebrows. "That wouldn't bother him . . . unless you said it in front of Leigh."
Anders grimaced, and then started to pick up the next body. "Unfortunately, Leigh came into the room behind me as I was saying it. I fear she overheard me."
"Ah." Justin winced, knowing Anders wouldn't have deliberately hurt the woman's feelings. None of the hunters would. Leigh was a good woman, they all liked her. "Yeah, I bet that-- Look out! The head--"
Anders froze with this body half off the gurney, but it was too late. One of the heads had been dislodged and was rolling off the edge of the metal table. Justin made a grab for it, but wasn't in time and the decapitated head hit the floor with a wet splat.
Both men stood and grimaced at the mess, and then Anders nodded toward the crematorium technician and muttered, "I don't suppose we can make him clean this up?"
"You suppose right. It would be hard to erase that from his memory and ensure it stayed erased," Justin said with amusement as he watched Anders grab the head by the man's long hair and toss it into the retort. It rolled forward like a lopsided bowling ball wobbling into the flame jets, where it exploded into immediate flames. Shaking his head, he murmured, "Like kindling."
"Yeah, we're pretty flammable," Anders commented.
"I
guess that makes us hot stuff," Justin said and laughed at his own joke. It even brought a smile from Anders as he finished lifting the body he held and sent it into the retort after the head. Anders wasn't known for a sense of humor, so the smile was the equivalent of a belly laugh from anyone else, Justin thought.
A shuffling sound and a moan drew his attention around to a woman standing at the corner of the cooler. She was short and rounded with a wave of raven-black hair pouring over her shoulders and down her back, a shiny black mass against the tan trench coat she wore. She also had one hand pressed against the cooler wall as if to hold herself up, and her complexion was positively green as she stared at the puddle on the floor where the head had been just seconds ago. Justin was pretty sure she'd witnessed the whole head-rolling-off-the-table-onto-the-floor bit. No doubt a gruesome sight for someone not used to dealing with the dead. Hell, he had to do it on a semi regular basis and it had been gruesome to him.
Her eyes lifted reluctantly to him and Anders now and Justin noted that they were a lovely pale blue. She had nice lips too, full and kissable, and the cutest little slightly turned up nose . . . and she was looking at him and Anders with a sort of mindless horror.
"I have the mess on the floor to clean up, so you get to deal with our tourist here," Anders announced grimly.
"Thanks," Justin said sarcastically, but didn't really mind. He loved women, always had, and this one was a cutie. The only shame was that he wouldn't get to play with more than her mind. Once he took control of her and wiped her memories, he'd have to avoid contact with her again to avoid those memories returning. Ah well, plenty more in the sea, he thought, and concentrated his gaze on her forehead, trying to penetrate her thoughts.
"Well?" Anders asked after a moment. "What are you waiting for? Take control of her."
Justin blinked, confusion sliding through him and then said weakly, "I can't."
"What?" Anders asked with surprise.
"I can't read her," he clarified, hardly able to believe it himself. Her thoughts were a complete blank to him.
"Seriously?" Anders asked, eyes narrowing.
"Seriously," Justin assured him, aware that his voice sounded as dazed as he felt. Damn. He couldn't read her. That meant--
"Well, then I'd get after her if I were you," Anders suggested and when Bricker just stared at him in blank confusion, he gestured to where the woman had been just a moment before and pointed out, "She's running."
