Chapter 2 #2
Then her gaze came back to his, slow and steady. “And ye chase me tonight because if I run, it weakens the shield.”
He nodded once.
She drew in a long breath, shoulders straightening. “Then I will nae run.”
Just like that.
No dramatics. No renewed argument.
Only a firm, clear decision.
Maxwell blinked. Of all the reactions he had expected, fear, panic, outrage, that was nae one.
He had been wrong about her.
Completely.
For the first time since stepping from the shadows, Maxwell found himself at a loss for words.
The lass, Ariella, he reminded himself, stood quiet and resolute before him. Her cloak trembled slightly in the wind, but her eyes were steady despite the remnants of tears. She looked nothing like the foolish runaway he had accused her of being.
“I will nae flee,” she said again, softer this time. “If me clan’s safety depends upon this marriage, then I will do me part.”
The simplicity of it struck him harder than any blade.
Most women, most men, would have cursed, wept, demanded another path. She merely straightened herself, gathering the torn edges of her dignity, and lifted her chin.
He had misjudged her. Badly.
Maxwell cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the pull in his chest. “Good. Then ye understand why this foolishness had to end.”
Her brow arched, faintly mocking despite the seriousness of the moment. “Foolishness. Ye mean the part where a lass was left entirely in the dark about her own future.”
He grimaced. She had him there. “Aye. Well. I will speak to Frederick about that.”
That startled her.
“Ye will,” she asked.
“Aye,” he said curtly. “If ye are to wed into me clan, ye should ken the stakes. Secrets do nothin’ but make chaos.”
She blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
Not the small, polite smile he had seen at feasts and formal gatherings from other women. A warm, genuine smile that lit her face from within, deepening the little dimples in her cheeks.
Maxwell went very still.
Something warm unfurled inside him, low and unwelcome.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly. “Truly.”
He swallowed. The simple gratitude settled in him like a stone dropped into deep water. It had been a long time since anyone had thanked him for anything other than shedding blood or making hard decisions.
He looked away first.
“Come,” he muttered. “Ye should be abed, nae wandering the yard like a ghost.”
“I was nae wandering,” she protested as she fell into step beside him.
“Aye, ye were fleeing.”
“I was considering me options.”
“Ye had none.”
She huffed. “Ye daenae ken that.”
“I ken enough,” he said, glancing down at her. “The road would have eaten ye alive.”
“I am nae as fragile as everyone thinks,” she muttered.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “I am beginning to see that.”
She looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. He quickly faced forward again, pretending interest in the stable roofs and the lantern by the gate.
The silence that followed was nae comfortable, but neither was it strained. Something hummed in it, something new. Awareness. Caution.
She walked close enough that her cloak brushed his arm. When they reached the steps of the keep, she stopped. He turned to face her.
“Maxwell,” she began carefully, tasting his name for the first time.
It did something to him, an unfamiliar tightening beneath his ribs.
She cleared her throat. “If I misunderstood ye earlier…”
“Ye did nae,” he said.
She blinked. “Oh.”
He studied her face, the stubborn set of her chin, the faint redness around her eyes, the quiet strength that had nae been visible until she was cornered.
“I should nae have spoken so harshly,” he said gruffly.
Her lips parted in surprise. “He apologizes.”
“Daenae look so shocked,” he snapped.
Her mouth twitched, the beginnings of another smile threatening. “I only meant it was unexpected.”
He grunted, uncomfortable. “Go inside.”
“Will ye tell Hunter I have tried to run?” she asked suddenly.
He stiffened. “I will tell him nothin’.”
“Why nae?”
“Because I want to hear what excuse the daft lad gives for his part in this.”
She tilted her head. “Ye think he encouraged me?”
“I think me braither has a talent for planting foolish ideas,” he said.
Her expression softened. “He did say somethin’. Nae outright. But enough.”
Maxwell cursed under his breath. He would deal with Hunter. Thoroughly.
Then Ariella said, quiet but firm, “But I choose differently now. I choose what is needed. Ye need nae worry I will run again.”
His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “Good.”
Silence passed between them then, and he broke it first. “Get inside before ye catch a chill.”
But when she brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm, heat shot through him like a blade fresh from the forge.
She paused at the door and looked back, hazel eyes bright, expression unreadable.
“Good night, Maxwell.”
He did not say good night. He only stood there, watching her until she disappeared into the keep.
Long after the door closed, he remained still as stone, hands curled at his sides, heart beating entirely too fast for a woman he had known less than an hour.