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T his was the last thing Evander had expected. He’d known that Blythe Castle was occupied by a lady because he’d had his men do their research. But he had thought she was some old, power-hungry wench who would probably make this castle even harder to take.

He’d imagined an old crone trying to use her wily ways to stop him one way or the other from taking the castle. The last thing he had expected was a siren.

Even now, as he held tight to her wrist and her question hung in the air, he couldn’t help but study her features—how her dark brown hair complemented her hazel eyes and how her dress accentuated her curves rather perfectly.

“What about me?” she had asked.

He could practically sense it in her voice, the utter helplessness. Did she truly have nowhere to go, or was this just her way of trying to convince him not to take the castle?

It was hard for him to know because, even though he had not come to meet an old, power-hungry crone, the woman he was staring at would not make it any easier as well. He could see the determination and commitment in her eyes. She would rather burn the castle down than let him take over easily.

“Where do ye want me to go?” she asked again, her eyes darting between his and the hand still gripping her wrist.

“Perhaps ye should have thought about that before burning me castle.”

“I did nae burn any castle.”

“Well, maybe ye didnae—but yer men did. And I am certain they were following yer orders,” he countered, his grip slowly slackening.

“I never instructed me men to burn down any castle.”

“Perhaps ye dinnae have as much control over yer men as ye think, then.”

“Oh, but ye do? Yer men keep killing mine at the border almost every day. What is the number now? Thirty?”

“That was never me plan. I never wanted whatever this was between our clans to escalate to this.”

“M’Lady…” The urgency in Hudson’s voice grew with each word as his gaze zeroed in on her wrist.

“’Tis alright, Hudson,” Lady Blythe reassured, her voice calm.

But Hudson did not seem to listen. His eyes flicked to hers and back to her wrist, still trapped in Evander’s grip.

“Are ye certain?” he asked, reaching for his sword.

“I wouldnae do that if I were ye,” Evander warned, his voice low but commanding.

Lady Blythe sighed and turned to look at him. “Look, I never wanted a war. I can assure ye of that. This has gone on long enough. I even made sure to tell me guards to allow yer men to steal from us. That’s how much I dinnae want this war to happen.”

“Me people dinnae want to steal from ye.”

“Well, they did.” Her response was sharp, laced with renewed confidence, now that she had more people around her. “And I have been quite generous with them in the past few days. But if ye think me generosity includes handing over me castle to ye, ye must be delusional.”

Evander nodded, considering her words. “I would be a fool to assume anything less.”

“I am glad we are on the same page.”

“We arenae.”

Lady Blythe narrowed her eyes at him, but he held her gaze.

For the briefest of moments, he felt like they were waging a war only the two of them understood, what with the way they both stared at each other. He could feel the heat in her eyes and the way they wanted to pierce his soul for some reason.

After a while, she exhaled and raised her hands in despair. “The least I can do for ye, for now, is to find a place for ye and yer family to live.”

Evander did not miss a beat before responding, sharp and succinct. “I am afraid that is nae good enough.”

“That is the most I can do for ye. For now, I will be happy to let ye and yer family stay the night. I am certain the maids can prepare the spare rooms.”

“Again, nae good enough.”

“Ye are quite frustrating, Laird Kincaid, do ye ken that?”

Evander shrugged. At least she got the title right this time around. They were getting somewhere.

“But,” Lady Blythe continued anyway, “we can properly discuss this later tonight over dinner. I will help ye and yer family find a place to stay, but for now, this conversation is over.”

She turned to leave, and something snapped inside him. He reached for her hand and pulled her close to him. Hudson, her man-at-arms, hurried over to them, his grip on his sword now tighter than ever. Evander could hear a slight gasp from her maid, who stood beside him, but he paid her no mind.

He held a knife to her neck. “Dinnae mistake me respect for women as weakness—M’Lady,” he bit out. “If ye were a man, yer blood would have painted the roses by now.”

“If I were a man, ye wouldnae come in here and demand I give ye me castle in the first place!” Lady Blythe retorted, her helplessness masked by the sheer defiance in her voice.

“If ye were a man, we would both have settled this on the battlefield, in the throes of the war ye started.”

“For the last time, I didnae start any war. I didnae instruct me men to burn down a castle, and I most certainly had nothing to do with whatever this is all about!” she screeched, balling her hands into fists.

Before she could swing at him, he grabbed her fists with his free hand and drew her close, her back crashing into his chest.

“Charming,” he whispered in her ear, his tone sending more shivers down her spine. “Dinnae ever do that again, do ye hear me?”

“’Tis enough,” Hudson barked.

He pushed Evander away from her and pulled her closer to him, his eyes not leaving Evander the entire time.

“I am leaving anyway,” Evander drawled, straightening the parts of his shirt she had wrinkled when he held her in his grasp. “Ye ken, if the fire hadnae hurt anyone, I might have let ye keep the castle. But now, I cannae.”

A tense silence swept across the courtyard, and he could feel their eyes on him, all waiting for him to speak, as if he had a cannon he needed to drop right in the middle of the field.

“I will be back tomorrow,” he finally said, before turning to Lady Blythe, his gaze sharp and unflinching. “I willnae be this merciful.”

He could see it in her eyes again, the helplessness. He watched as her maid moved closer to her and they started to talk, at first in hushed whispers. Then, the wind began to carry more of their conversations to him. They were discussing her chances of survival if she handed the castle over to him.

For a second, he allowed himself to feel sympathy for her. He was throwing out a woman. A woman who seemed to have nowhere to go.

That was never his intention. It was never what he had planned to do, but unfortunately, he was left with no choice. He had to do what he had to, and if it meant standing his ground, he would.

“I will probably find a place on the streets,” he heard her mutter.

“M’Lady, ye cannae live on the streets,” her maid protested. “I cannae let ye do that to yerself.”

“’Tis nae exactly like I have a lot of options, Stella, do I?”

Stella heaved a sigh. “I understand, but the streets arenae safe, especially nae for a lady like ye.”

Evander watched Lady Blythe ponder her maid’s words, the cogs turning in her head. She looked almost anywhere but in his direction, determined to be stubborn to the last moment.

A mild scoff escaped his lips at the thought.

“What about the cave?” he heard her ask.

Stella narrowed her eyes. “What cave?”

“The one by the waterfall.”

Evander had to interrupt this time. He could not let this go on for much longer.

“Where the witches live?” he asked, trying his best to mask the concern in his voice.

Lady Blythe turned to him, a scowl resting on her face. “Ye are quite enjoying this, are ye nae?”

He shrugged. “I dinnae think the witches would be as welcoming as the people on the streets.”

“And I dinnae think I quite appreciate the tone ye are using with me.”

“I am merely stating?—”

“Ye should learn to state yer facts to me with respect then, because as satisfying as it may be to ye…” Lady Blythe hissed, moving closer to him.

Evander noticed Hudson reach for his sword one more time, a cautious expression on his face. The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile, but that did not deter the lady from continuing to speak.

“… as much as ye would like it, I willnae be leaving the castle. Ye can come with yer family—I dinnae care—but I will still be here tomorrow.”

Evander studied her for a second, how her brow creased in anger as she spoke, the defiance that laced her voice, and the way her eyes flashed with such venom, as if any of this was his fault in the first place.

“Is that yer final answer, lass?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. And it is Lady Blythe.” Her response was sharp and low, and for some reason, it matched his.

Evander nodded. “Very well. See ye tomorrow, then.”