Page 48 of Bound By Deception

Ducking under his guard, she caught mac Brochan square in the jaw with her fist and then drove her knee up into his groin.

Frustratingly, he moved to avoid the blow, and her knee collided with the hard muscle of his thigh.

And then, he kicked her feet out from under her.

Bree hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from her lungs.

For a heartbeat or two, she merely lay there, mouth opening and closing, as she tried to recover her breath. Curse it, she’d fallen much harder than she would have in her Shee form. She’d never been winded like this before.

A shadow fell over her then, and she looked up to see her husband blocking out the sky.

“Bastard!” she gasped.

To her surprise, he flashed her a wicked smile—the first show of mirth she’d seen from him. “Not bad,” he drawled. “Although don’t think I didn’t notice that you pulled your punches.”

21: A COLD AND EMPTY LIFE

“I’VE GOT AN errand for you.” Cailean greeted Torran without preamble.

His second was standing inside their meeting alcove, pouring himself a cup of mead, when Cailean strode in.

Torran nodded, handing Cailean the cup and pouring himself another. “Where to?”

“The House of Maids in Baldeen.” Cailean walked to his desk in the far corner and sat down before pulling out a sheet ofparchment. Unstoppering a jar of ink, he then dipped in a quill and deftly began to write.

All the while, he was aware of Torran’s gaze upon him, but the enforcer had the wisdom to hold his tongue.

The missive Cailean wrote was short, blunt even. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t waste words. Once he’d signed the letter, he sprinkled a couple of pinches of pounce over it, to dry the ink, before shaking the powder off and rolling up the parchment. He then sealed it with warm wax. While the wax was still soft, he took off his signet ring—which bore a wolf’s head sigil, the mark of the High King’s chief-enforcer—and pressed it into the seal.

Only then did he pick up his cup and take a gulp of sweet, frothy mead. “How is Mirren?”

Torran’s features tightened. “The healer has tended her. She’ll heal in a few days … physically, at least.”

Cailean’s fingers tightened around his cup. “I warned Drago what would happen if he harassed any more servants.”

Torran pulled a face. “Leering at the lasses is one thing … dragging one into the shadows and brutalizing her is another.”

“That’s why Drago and Frang’s heads are now on pikes outside the walls … I don’t give warnings twice.”

A tense silence fell then. Torran leaned up against the stone wall, long legs crossed at the ankles as he nursed his drink. “That should dissuade others in the future.”

Cailean scowled, reaching up to massage a stiff muscle in his shoulder. “I lead a pack of rabid wolves.”

Torran pulled a face. “Aye … the earth magic turns us all a bit feral … but the men all know rape won’t be tolerated.”

“Let’s hope so.” Cailean lifted his cup to his lips and took another deep draft.

“I hear I missed a show earlier,” Torran said after a pause.

Cailean glanced his way, to see his second was smirking now. “You did.”

“You went easy on her, I hope.”

“Of course,” Cailean replied with a snort. “Although I could see she was doing the same.”

Torran barked a laugh. “You jest?”

“Do I look like I am?”

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