Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Stay down!”
Noah’s roar sliced through the air as steel clanged against steel with a bone-jarring sound. He watched Ava press Esther’s face against her shoulder, shielding the child’s eyes even as her own remained fixed on the chaos unfolding outside the carriage window.
Noah moved like violence incarnate. His sword flashed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, each strike purposeful and crushing.
The first bandit lunged with his crude blade raised high, and Noah simply sidestepped, his own sword swinging in an arc that struck the man across the ribs.
The bandit went down with a scream that made Ava’s stomach turn.
“Two against one now, ye bastard!” the leader snarled, circling with the third man. “Still think ye can—”
He didn’t finish.
Noah’s blade found his sword arm, and the weapon clattered to the ground along with a spray of blood. The man howled, clutching his arm, and his companion looked at Noah’s cold, merciless expression and ran.
Noah let him go. His attention was fixed on the leader, who’d fallen to his knees, blood seeping between his fingers.
“Please,” the bandit gasped. “Please, I didnae mean to disturb ye. We were just tryin’ to make money.”
“Ye wanted the carriage,” Noah said, his voice like winter itself. “The belongings. And the woman.” He stepped closer, and even from inside the carriage, Ava could see the controlled fury in every line of his body. “That’s what ye said, aye?”
“We… we wouldnae have.”
“Aye, ye would have.” Noah’s sword tip rested against the man’s throat. “But I gave ye a chance to leave. Ye chose wrong.”
Noah’s blade moved so quickly that Ava almost missed it. A flash of steel, a choking gurgle, and the bandit leader collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The clearing fell silent except for the labored breathing of the first wounded bandit and the distant sound of the third man crashing through the underbrush in his flight.
“Uncle Noah?” Esther’s muffled voice came from against Ava’s shoulder. “Is… is it over?”
“Aye, sweetheart.” He did his best to keep his voice gentle, despite the chaos around them. “It’s over. But ye cannae look.”
But Esther, perhaps overtaken with curiosity, tried to lift her head. Ava caught her immediately and buried the girl’s face in her chest.
“Daenae look at them,” Ava murmured, running soothing circles on the child’s back even as her own hands trembled. “Just keep yer eyes closed for a wee bit longer, aye?”
Noah nodded his gratitude to Ava for her quickness in protecting the girl from the gory sight. He cleaned his blade on the dead leader’s coat with methodical efficiency. Then he straightened up, surveying the scene with the same critical eye he might use to evaluate a training session.
The first bandit, the one he’d wounded in the ribs, was trying to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood.
Noah watched him for a moment, then looked toward the carriage. His eyes met Ava’s through the window, and something in his expression shifted. Softened, just slightly.
He sheathed his sword and moved toward them.
“Stay in the carriage,” he called out, his voice clipped. “I need to make sure everything is safe.”
“Ye’re hurt!” Ava’s words burst from her, and he turned to see her open the carriage door and stumble out onto the forest road. She charged toward him, clearly without thinking.
“Ava.” He called out sharply. “Get back in the carriage.”
He raised an open palm toward her, causing her to stop instantly. He was scanning the tree line, jaw clenched, one hand still resting on his sword hilt. Not looking at her. Still working.
He could see the realization dawn on her face. She might have walked straight into danger.
“Now,” he snapped, quieter.
He watched her retreat to the carriage step without climbing back in. Damn it, the stubborn lass. Noah moved to check the edge of the tree line and then looked along the road in both directions. Only then did his hand leave his sword. Only then did his shoulders relax some of that coiled readiness.
He turned back to her, his expression changing when he saw the way she was watching him.
“I told ye to stay inside,” he said, crossing toward her.
“Ye’re bleedin’.” She lifted her chin. “I’m nae gettin’ back in until I see how bad it is.”
Something flickered across his face. Irritation, she thought. And underneath it, something else she couldn’t name. He stopped in front of her and held out his arm, the torn sleeve already dark with blood.
“It’s a scratch,” he said flatly.
“That’s nae a scratch.” She reached for his arm, and this time he didn’t stop her, but he went very still.
Her fingers worked at the torn fabric, exposing the gash that stretched along his forearm. Long, but not deep. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
He’s all right. He’s all right.
“Sit,” she said, and pointed at the fallen log at the edge of the road.
“I’m nae sittin’ for this.”
“Sit.”
He sat. Ava knelt beside him, pressing the handkerchief she’d tucked into her sleeve that morning firmly against the wound. Her hands were steady. She was grateful for that, because her pulse was not.
“Ye fought three men with this,” she said, keeping her voice level. “What if the blade had gone deeper?”
“It didnae.”
Ava looked up at him and saw that he was watching her work. Not her face, just her hands, with an expression that was unreadable. There was no warmth there yet—only something like measurement, assessment, as if she were a problem he was analyzing.
She wrapped the handkerchief around the wound and tied it tight.
“This will hold until we reach the castle. Ye’ll need it cleaned and stitched properly.”
“Aye.” A pause. “Ye shouldnae have gotten out of the carriage.”
“Ye were bleedin’. Why are we still talkin’ about this?”
“There could have been another man in those trees.” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was not. “The third one ran. I wasnae certain where he’d gone. If he’d come back while ye were standin’ out here, it’s enough distraction.”
Ava realized then that he wasn’t upset with her for fussing. He was upset because she’d made herself vulnerable, and that had split his attention when he couldn’t afford for it to be divided.
He was still protectin’ us. Even then. Even hurt.
The thought settled into her chest like something unfamiliar and warm. She didn’t know how to handle it, so she focused on smoothing the edge of the makeshift bandage.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly. “At the tavern. And now. I daenae think I’ve properly thanked ye for any of it.”
Noah’s expression did something complicated.
“Ye daenae need to thank me.” His voice was rougher than usual.
“Ye’re under me protection. That’s what that means.
It’s nay different from any other member of me household.
If someone threatens what’s mine, I deal with it.
It’s nae...” He paused, seemed to be choosing his words with unusual care. “It’s nae about ye personally.”
But then his eyes dropped to her mouth for just a breath of a moment, and came back up.
“I’m... I’m nae yers,” she said, because she had to say something.
“Aye,” he agreed. And the very steadiness of it, the way he didn’t argue, didn’t press, felt more dangerous than if he had.
She pulled her hands back. “The bandage should hold. But ye need a healer.”
His eyes were almost warm now. Almost. And Ava had to look away before she did something she couldn’t explain, like the sudden pull she felt toward him, sharp and bewildering.
Ye’re simply shocked. That’s all it is. Ye watched a man kill three people to keep ye safe, and yer body doesnae ken what to do with that.
She wasn’t ready to examine whether that was true.
He offered his good hand to help her up. She took it, and when she stumbled slightly on the uneven ground, his arm came around her waist, and she went very still. His chest was firm against her back, and his warm breath brushed near her temple.
“Careful,” he said.
“Aye.” She didn’t move. Couldn’t. “Careful.”
He stepped back quickly, as if he’d caught himself doing something.
“The carriage,” he said, his voice strained. “We should get goin’.”
“Aye.” She climbed back in.
Esther was peeking out the window. “Is Uncle Noah all right?”
“He’s fine, sweetheart. Just a wee cut.” Ava settled beside her, pressing her own hands together in her lap to stop them trembling. “Nothin’ to worry about.”
“He was very brave,” Esther whispered. “He protected us.”
“Aye.” Ava glanced out the window. “He did.”
Noah swung onto Shadow with that same practiced ease, barely favoring the injured arm, and for a moment, Ava just watched him. The set of his shoulders and the way he sat the horse made it look like he was part of it.
He turned and caught her looking.
Their eyes held through the glass for one beat.
Then he faced forward, and the carriage lurched into motion.
Esther dozed off within the hour, her small weight warm against Ava’s side. Ava didn’t sleep; she watched the road and kept returning to the same thought, turning it over like a stone with a strange weight to it.
He was still on guard when I came out. And he told me to go back.
He hadn’t softened. He hadn’t immediately rushed to reassure her. He’d been genuinely vexed because she had complicated the situation and had become something he had to account for in that moment, which left him no room for it.
She didn’t know why that bothered her less than it should have.
The sun had dipped near the horizon when the castle finally appeared, rising from the land as if out of a story she’d never thought would include her. Stone towers. Banners catching the last light.
Castle MacGregor.
She watched Noah ride ahead of the carriage, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the setting sun as the gates opened before them.
Anticipation moved through her, quiet and unbidden.
That was the part she didn’t know what to do with.