Intimate Enemies Read online

  “Will you listen?” she asked over the hard pounding of her heart.

  He arched one eyebrow, then nodded, not releasing her from his gaze.

  Lauren took another step back, gathering her thoughts.

  “I don't want your life, du Morgan, no matter what you may think. I have other concerns right now. But there is something else I want from you, and I'm willing to release you and your men in exchange for it.”

  She stopped, because she feared she was talking too fast, that her speed was betraying her nervousness. Finally he spoke, although he did not move otherwise.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Information,” she said. “I want information from you, from your family on the other side of Shot. I want to know everything you know about these Northmen who killed my father. How many ships you've seen, how many men you've fought onshore, their weapons, their battle strategies. Everything.”

  “Where is your fiancé, Lauren? Where is Murdoch?”

  The question seemed so out of place, so far from what she had been thinking about that for a moment she couldn't comprehend what he meant. Then reality came back, and with it an odd rush of disappointment.

  “ We sent word for his help,” she said, looking away. “But his castle is inland, not very near the shore. It takes time to reach the mainland from Shot, then time again to reach his holding, I understand. And I don't have the luxury of time right now to wait for his aid.”

  “How long ago did you send for him?”

  She let out her breath slowly, not wanting to answer.

  “How long, MacRae?”

  “A month,” she snapped.

  “Ah,” he said, nodding.“I see.”

  “I don't believe you do,” she said.“Payton Murdoch will be here, have no worries over that. He made an oath to my father to wed me, and will have every interest in arriving to protect his bride and my dowry. We are to be married in less than two months, in fact. His clan and mine have been allies for generations, and he knows as well as anyone that our marriage will strengthen both families. But an army cannot be gathered in a day. Even you must understand that. He will surely be here.”

  “Surely,” agreed the earl, and she couldn't tell now if it was sarcasm or irony or just boredom in his tone. He turned away from her, showing her the broad muscles of his back in the drama of the shadows.

  “And once he arrives,” du Morgan continued in the same tone,“all your troubles will be erased, won't they? You'll have your future husband here to take charge, to fight your battles for you. You'll have the added force of his clan.” He turned to face her again. “But what do you do until then, Lauren? How much time can you afford to give him, this miracle maker?”

  “I don't need him to fight my battles for me,” she replied, stung.“I can fend for myself, unlike you.”

  “Oh, forgive me. I forgot I was talking to the grand Lauren MacRae, great Scottish warrior.”

  “Great enough to save your sorry life!”

  He paused, watching her, and Lauren realized he had done it again, he had set the trap and led her to it—and she had fallen for the bite in his words with easy gullibility. He seemed to delight in tormenting her. She set her lips together and stared at him, holding back more insults. He would not trip her again so readily.

  “You're right,” he said, sounding perfectly serious once more.“You did save me. I watched you do it, and it would be a lie to say you were anything but great on the beach that morning.”

  All the retorts she had been considering died to nothing. Was this a new trick?

  “Thank you,” the Earl of Morgan said.“Thank you for saving me.”

  She waited, preparing for the next verbal blow, the next slight, but it didn't come. He let the words hang between them, not mocking at all, not even smiling. Just looking at her. Just examining her, as if she were something new and fascinating, a riddle he couldn't quite fathom.

  “You're welcome,” Lauren said reluctantly.

  “I don't accept your offer.”

  “What?”

  “It won't do,” he said, temperate.

  “You pompous, thick-skulled, mutton-headed English bastard—”

  “Because I have a better idea for us both.”

  She took a deep breath, then snapped her teeth shut, glaring.

  “These Northmen are persistent,” Ari said, admiring even the clench of her jaw. “And they are many. They seem quite bent on invading Shot, and these little skirmishes we keep having with them are just the beginning, I'm certain. Exchanging information isn't going to be enough to hold them back. We must do more.”

  Arion paused, letting that sink in, watching the emotions carry clearly across her face—disdain, anger, wariness. He waited until the wariness faded some, until curiosity crept in, keeping her tied to him despite her hostility.

  “What we need,” Ari said, walking slowly to her,“is one mighty group to defeat them. What we need”—he came closer, so close that she had to bend her head back to meet his look—“is a single party that can cover the whole island at once, to guard all the weaknesses with just one common eye, and one common plan.”

  Still she stared up at him, so lovely, so defiant. Arion smiled down at her, then made his offer in a soft, intimate voice.

  “What we need, Lauren MacRae, is to combine our two families. We need to become an alliance.”

  Chapter Three

  LLY WITH YOU?” LAUREN LAUGHED, a combination of astonishment and affront. “Why should I?”

  “Because it's the smartest thing to do. And I don't think you're a stupid woman.” Arion turned away from her, going over to his pallet. “Of course, I might be wrong.”

  He sat down and watched her, saw the way the silver light turned her hair to watered brilliance, lit the curve of her cheek with smooth wonder. She had not released him from her stare, scornful and dubious—but heeding. Arion saw her bite down gently on the fullness of her lower lip and felt the desire in him go spinning. He was positive she had no idea that she was even doing it.

  In that sliding moment of his enthrallment, it almost didn't matter what they were discussing, it seemed unimportant. He could contemplate her all night, the succulent softness of her lips, the way her teeth pulled at the flesh there, so ripe and red, so ready to be kissed….

  “You are jesting,” she said, breaking the spell.

  “No,” he replied.

  A faint frown came and settled between her brows as she examined him, caught in her square of starlight.

  “You must be. It is not amusing.”

  “It is not a jest, Lauren. It's a damned good plan.”

  She let out a wordless sound—frustration, irritation— and stepped out of the pale light, crossing to the door, knocking sharply. Ari thought she was leaving, just like that, and stood up quickly to stay her. Blood rushed from his head; the black waves came back, devouring his vision. He was still unwell, the proof was this. But he managed to stay standing, and when the blackness had cleared he saw that she had not left after all, merely spoken to the guard outside and accepted a brass lamp that glowed with light. She thanked the guard, then shut the door again.

  Now he could see her in the colors that suited her best: the warmth of firelight that picked out the red in her hair, cast a darker rose tint to the elegance of her cheekbones. Her lips glistened, crimson stained with gold, reminding him of his fantasies, of the things he must not think about now. Ari had to look away again.

  She brought the lamp to him next to the pallet, holding it up to his face, blinding him with the relative brightness of it. Arion scowled, pushing away her hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  She rebuffed him, freeing her hand and bringing it back, holding the light close but not too close. He allowed it now. She had to stand very near to him to keep the lamp where she wanted it, and he was too greedy to push her away a second time. The fragrance of her drifted over him, something flowered but not overly sweet … heated, feminine.
/>   “Say it again, du Morgan.”

  “What?” he asked harshly, trying not to breathe too deeply.

  “Your offer. Tell it to me again. I want to be able to see your eyes this time.”

  He met her gaze.“We join together to defeat the Vikings, MacRae. Your people and my people. You … and I.”

  She gave away nothing, stoic, the depths of amber in her eyes intensified by the light. Her hand was perfectly steady; the lamp did not move from him.

  “Now tell me why I should aid the family of the devil,” she said. “Tell me why I should consider saving you again.”

  “You need me, Lauren,” Ari responded. “You know it's true.”

  She didn't reply, only kept staring up at him.

  “Only united do we have any real hope of defending our home,” Arion said, his voice quiet.“Together, we are stronger. Apart, we weaken ourselves. Why waste our energy battling each other when we have a mutual enemy? If we work together, we may vanquish the Northmen. We can patrol together, plan together … fight together, if need be.”

  He could see that she wanted to resist this. He could see the argument rising in her eyes, the way the faint frown came back, the way she almost bit her lip again, and then stopped. But still she did not move away, and still she did not remove the light.

  “Be a true leader,” he urged, almost a whisper now. “Help your people, don't hinder them. Join me.”

  She was overwhelming to him, hot and scented and lovely and delicate. But also clever and strong, Ari reminded himself—and highly suspicious. He should think of something else to woo her, something personal to appeal to her sense of duty, of justice. Yet to his remote dismay, Arion found that he couldn't conjure up any further words. No words, only her, only Lauren, standing ready and sweet before him, like an offering, calm and wild together, the promise of a heady storm in the very essence of her.

  “How can I trust you?” she asked, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

  He had his arm around her waist before he thought to move it. It fit there so naturally, so smoothly, that it took nothing to pull her closer to him, until her body was brushing his despite her step back to keep her balance.

  Her eyes widened; her free hand came up between them, pushing against his bare chest.

  “If I had wanted to,”Arion murmured,“I could have killed you thrice over by now.”

  She hung there, unable to escape without a fight. The flickering light behind him now showed him only glimpses of her expression. But he didn't need to see her face to confirm what he already knew: She felt it too, the passion, the longing. He knew it with just the willing sway of her body, with just the heat of her hand against him. There was a recognition in him, a reaffirming of the primal beating in his blood, all the stronger now for this new discovery.

  Disaster. He could not give in to this. He must not. She was a MacRae, and she was very much taken by another man. To ignore this reality would be not only dishonorable, but exceedingly stupid. She would be wed soon to a powerful laird, one who would no doubt be displeased to find his bride even in the same room as the enemy.

  Ye t the hard desire crashing through him didn't care about any of that. All it wanted was what he had before him—this woman with her seductive eyes and her lips and her scent, and to hell with all the rest of it.

  With great force of will, Arion eased his arm away from her. She took three rapid steps back, breathing unsteadily. It made him smile, dark and mirthless. He knew why her breathing was so short. Aye, he knew.

  “I will consider your offer,” she said, admirably steady, he thought.

  “Why don't you?” he invited, keeping the darkness near him.

  She took a few more steps away, almost as if she was afraid to turn her back to him, holding the lamp in front of her like a shield.

  “But hurry, Lauren,” Ari said, not releasing her from his gaze.“Hurry and decide. I won't wait forever.”

  She hesitated, then turned and walked briskly to the door, calling to the guard to let her out.

  Ari went to the window of the room and opened the glass, letting the cold autumn air flow over him. He heard her shut the door, and then he was alone again.

  AVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES?”

  Ranulf pounded his fist on the long table in the great hall to emphasize his words, staring down at Lauren in disbelief. The other men at the table muttered their agreement.

  “Join forces with the enemy? Collaborate with the devil?” Ranulf 's gray-threaded beard bristled with in-dignation.“He'll betray us the first second he can.”

  “Aye,” grumbled a few of the other men, elders in the clan, nodding and shooting her sharp, outraged glances.

  Lauren held her peace, letting them adjust to the thought while they needed to, only folding her arms across her chest, leaning back in Da's chair at the head table. She had learned this posture from Da himself, learned that when facing strong opposition, sometimes the best thing to do was nothing at all.

  Lauren had been taking Da's seat for a week, and this marked the first time she felt any resistance to it. Before now, the early-morning meetings with her father's advisers had gone as well as they could with an absent leader. She had begun to think that a few of the men here were secretly grateful that she arrived for each one, that she sat and listened and offered her own advice to the council. Until right now, when she had dared to suggest the pact that the Earl of Morgan had proposed to her late last night.

  She had left his room and walked away unseeing, her thoughts snarled into confused circles, her instincts blunted and useless.

  He was the wicked leader of a wicked family. He could not be trusted.

  Ye t … he was right. They would be stronger together.

  Underneath all the turmoil of her thoughts was the chaos of her emotions, adding nothing to the fray but more disorientation. She felt strange and feverish, as when she had caught a terrible chill once as a child, and the world had turned to fire and ice.

  Arion du Morgan had pulled her close to him and she had truly frozen, only one hand raised on instinct to protest it—and it had been a meager protest at that. He seemed not to have noticed it at all, her hand pushing at him. He had simply held her there easily, showing her the force he could exert with just one arm, solid around her back, his fingers warm on her hip.

  He had captured her and then let her fall into the ocean depths of his eyes, half lidded, darkened green that mesmerized her.

  And so her plan to seek the truth in him through the lamplight had gone stunningly wrong, in retrospect a telling act of lunacy on her part. She had thought to see his face and read his veracity there, just as she had done when he was a boy, in that terrible dungeon hallway.

  What an astonishing mistake she had made; it had become perfectly clear to her the instant he moved. They were no longer children. Before her now was a man, and he was all solid muscle and strength—shockingly bare, warm skin, the blanket at his waist just a token of decency between them. She had lost her thoughts and then herself, lost it all to the sensation of him, leaning in so close and whispering that he could have killed her.

  Fool, Lauren cursed herself. Of course he could have. Anyone could have, if she stood there as she had, dumb and blind and vulnerable as a babe. It was a terrible new weakness in her, something so deep and so awful that she had to bury it away completely before anyone noticed. Most especially before the Earl of Morgan noticed. If, God help her, he had not already.

  She felt as if she had not slept at all last night. She did not remember sleeping. But by the time the frosted light of dawn had begun to spill over the keep, Lauren had made a decision. She would join with the devil. She was doing it for Shot. Nothing more, or less.

  Nothing.

  “Impossible,” said Carlin, bringing Lauren back to the great hall, her father's men lined up evenly around her. Carlin's voice was no more open to change than were the others'. “I cannot believe you have been so completely deceived, Lauren.”

  “T
hink about it,” Lauren said, slowly taking in the whole of the group of them. “Think of what it could mean. We would be so much the stronger. We would have eyes and ears and ready swords all across the island. There would be no place for the invaders to hide. And if we ally with the English we'll have one less enemy, at least for now—after all, they want the Vikings gone as much as we do.”

  That excited a new rumble in the men, a few of them turning away from her to discuss it among themselves. Ahead and all around them, the great hall was beginning to fill up. Women were bustling back and forth, getting ready to serve the breakfast, pretending not to listen. Younger men were not even bothering to pretend, instead openly taking seats near the meeting, leaning forward with their elbows on the table, alert.

  “It is too dangerous,” pronounced someone else, James, from the far end of the table. Lauren faced him.

  “Is it not more dangerous to leave our fates to luck and chance that we will stop the next assault? I call that a true danger. With du Morgan on our side, we'll have stronger numbers in case of battle, and greater odds of winning.”

  “ We should wait for the Murdoch and his clan,” said James stubbornly.“He'll be coming soon. He'll be wanting to defend his bride. That's all the reinforcement we need.”

  “But when will he come?”

  It was Ranulf again. Lauren turned to him, hiding her hope at his words. He looked to the others, speaking slowly, gravely.“We don't know when Murdoch may arrive. We don't even know if our message made it to him. Our boat might have been captured at sea. The Vikings might have killed our crew.”

  One of the women—Vanora, the mother of the messenger—let out a cry, then covered her mouth. Others nearby put arms around her shoulders, huddled together, breakfast forgotten.