Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s huge.
Jeane stared in awe as the truly majestic castle came into view from afar.
The rounded towers on the corners were posted up with guards—archers from the look of them. The rest of the towers were square, looking stark and gray against the pinks and yellows of the rising sun.
The weathered stone walls rose up over the hill, overlooking a glossy loch that looked too deep to swim in. It worked as a makeshift moat, Jeane supposed. The drawbridge came down, and the horses’ hooves thudded against the wood.
Jeane clutched onto the neck of Fergus’ horse, having finally risen from a fitful sleep.
They had ridden through the night, and her thighs ached, being unused to riding this hard. She thought of her father, how everyone he knew must be out looking for her right now. She did not feel concerned when she thought about it, though, mostly just… afraid.
That was the most emotion she could muster for her father, after all the long years he had spent abusing her. It wasn’t just that he thought her plain and stupid, but when she failed… when he punished her…
She shook her head to rid herself of those awful thoughts.
Ye wanted an adventure, and ye got one.
But this was not what Jeane expected when she thought about getting away from Castle McKay. She did not expect a brute of a man to take her away.
She hadn’t had much of a plan to be fair. She only wanted a brief escape. She had run away before, multiple times, even spent a few days at a tavern in town once before her father found her. She had no delusions that she’d be able to escape forever.
Her father would be furious to find out she had been with Fergus overnight without a chaperone. Not that Jeane cared much about what her father thought. She was not scandalized as her father would be but furious that she had been taken against her will.
The Laird had not tried anything, but he had a glint in his eyes when he looked at her…
one that excited her more than scared her if she were honest with herself.
She wanted to know more about this scarred man, even if he irked her to no end.
He was devilishly handsome, for one thing, even though Jeane thought of herself as a woman not easily swayed by a man’s looks.
But there was something about the scars on his face, the set of his jaw, that made her want to see him break out in a smile.
Would it make him look more boyish? Softer? It was a thought only a lover should have, and it made Jeane blush. She remembered her hands on his chest earlier, the way his skin had been warm to the touch, firm beneath her palms.
“So ye arenae goin’ to tell me who ye are? Nae even a hint?”
Fergus’ words came to her from behind as she held on for dear life to the reins while he rode the horse hard.
She did not answer, hoping that he would think she was sleeping if she squeezed her eyes shut hard enough.
“Perhaps ye are a faerie,” he mused, and Jeane found herself biting back a bitter laugh.
“If I were a faerie, daenae ye think I would have used me magic already to get away from ye?”
She could practically feel his smirk although she did not turn to face him as they rode.
“Nay, I daenae think ye would. I think ye like teasin’ me, little mouse.”
“Stop callin’ me that.”
“Well, I cannae rightly call ye by yer name, can I?”
She huffed out a breath and went quiet again.
Fergus groaned. “This has been the longest ride; ye dinnae speak at all.”
“It would have been shorter if ye dinnae talk so much,” she muttered.
Fergus grunted in response and kicked the sides of his horse, urging him forward faster.
Jeane felt weak and tired, exhausted, really, after being in the woods for days. She just wanted a warm bed, somewhere to rest her head, but something told her she would have work to do when they arrived at the castle.
Fergus continued to try to speak to her, trying to make conversation, teasing her about who she might be if she were a faerie.
But she did not respond. Did not say much at all.
She could not. Because if she did, she might reveal who she was… and he might take her home. She was scared to death of going back to the McKay castle, feeling like it could lead to her demise.
“Me Laird! Ye’re home!” one of the guards shouted, and Fergus’ response broke Jeane out of her thoughts.
“Aye, made it home,” Fergus grunted.
Two strong guards stood on either side of the gates, and slowly, they began to creak open as Fergus’ horse approached.
Jeane was shocked at how easily Fergus got off the horse, given his injuries. The cut across his stomach was deep and would require stitching when she finally got him alone.
A nearby stableboy walked toward them, and Fergus called for him.
“Take care of me horse,” he said, handing the reins to the boy.
She squeaked when Fergus lifted her by her waist, placing her on the ground in front of him.
Her hands shook as she braced herself on his shoulders. She pulled away from him quickly once she was on the ground, but he smirked down at her all the same.
“Ye cannae just touch me whenever and however ye want,” Jeane argued.
“Can’t I, little mouse?”
Fergus stepped closer, his mouth twisted in what could be a smirk or a snarl.
“Who, pray tell, is goin’ to stop me?”
He was infuriating, this Laird McCloud, but also intriguing. He had captured her against her will, but his hands were soft on her hips as he sat her down. He could be gentle, too.
She supposed she should not look a gift horse in the mouth, but she could not help being afraid. Her prayers had been answered, and she was well away from her father. Only, it was not exactly how she thought it would happen.
Yes, she had wanted to get away from her father, but she had not expected to run straight into the arms of a man who, for all she knew, might be just as bad or worse. He had said he would let her go after she tended to his sister, but who knew if he was telling the truth?
Fergus had not harmed her. He wanted her for her healing prowess, not her looks, and that was the only reason she had not kicked him in the bollocks and tried to escape.
“Me Laird!” a booming voice called out, and Jeane gasped as a large man walked toward them. She sprang apart from her captor as if she were doing something untoward.
The man was as broad as Fergus although a couple of inches shorter, and despite his intimidating size, his smile was boyish. His eyes, warm and brown, scanned the area. He did not look like a bad sort, but Jeane had been taught that all men were dangerous, even the boyish ones.
Jeane hid behind the horse all the same, her heart pounding in her chest. She could not trust any man, and she did not want him to recognize her face.
As soon as someone found out who she was, she would be taken straight back to McKay Castle and back to her father.
Back to her doom. She could not marry the man her father chose, no matter what.
Fergus did not seem to notice Jeane hiding at first.
“Aiden,” he greeted, “how’s yer brother?”
Jeane peeked around the horse to see the other man hang his head.
“Unwell, I’m afraid.” He got closer and his eyes widened. “Me Laird, yer hurt!”
“It’s only a scratch,” Fergus insisted. “But we do need to meet with the council. It was one of the Leary clan.”
Aiden cursed under his breath. “The Learys, again? I thought we had eradicated them the last time they attacked.”
“I suppose nae,” Fergus said, sighing. “Did ye find a healer for Ian?”
Aiden shook his head. “I couldnae find a decent one.”
“Well, ye’re in for a treat,” Fergus said easily and turned, frowning slightly when he did not see Jeane standing there. He looked down, likely seeing her legs.
He grabbed Jeane’s arm, pulling her close to his side, not roughly but not gently, either.
Jeane’s breath caught in her throat at the way he manhandled her, his fingers lighting softly on her.
She could feel the heat through her dress.
She should be frightened. This man was large enough to snap her in half, but what she felt was not fear—more like exhilaration.
Something tight and warm coiled in her lower stomach that she did not recognize.
Jeane squeaked again as she smelled his scent—pine and sweat and the iron smell of blood. It was an odd, intoxicating mixture, and it made her head feel fuzzy until she shook it to clear it. Jeane hid her face with her hand.
“And who is the lass?” Aiden asked in a drawl.
Fergus threw an arm around her shoulders, and Jeane grunted disapprovingly but did not move.
“She’s our new healer,” Fergus announced. “She’s goin’ to help Lottie. And yer brother.”
She could feel Aiden’s eyes on her even though she could not see him, keeping her face hidden.
“Aye?”
“Aye,” Fergus said flatly. “Now, go to me staff, tell them to prepare me sister for a new visitor.”
Aiden nodded and walked off. Jeane sighed at the sound of his retreating footsteps, relieved.
Fergus looked down at her.
“Ye’re a scared little mouse, aye? Aiden wouldnae hurt a fly unless I ordered him to.” He paused, letting go of her arm. “Are ye goin’ to tell me yer name now, lass?”
Jeane looked up at him, lifting her chin defiantly. “If I tell ye, can ye promise nae to spread it around?”
“Why nae?” he asked, his eyebrows ticking up.
Jeane huffed out a breath. “Me reasons are me own. I will tell ye me name if ye promise to keep it quiet.”
Fergus kept looking into her eyes, as if she might change her mind, but Jeane stood firm and silent, holding his gaze. She could not show him that she was afraid, that her heart was galloping in her chest.
Besides, she honestly did not feel afraid of Fergus the way she was afraid of Aiden and other men. He had had his chance to hurt her on the road, and he had not.
She was not sure if she could trust him, but she had to try, unless she wanted to go back to her father.
“Aye,” Fergus said quietly, his voice husky from lack of sleep. “Aye, I will keep it quiet.”
“Me name is Jeane Forrest,” Jeane whispered.