Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The mare’s hooves drummed steadily on the packed dirt road, the rhythm echoing the frantic beat of Scarlett’s heart. Every sway of the horse pressed her more snugly against Robert’s chest, and no matter how she tried, she could not lean forward far enough to escape the heat of him.
“Ye daenae have to sit so stiff,” Robert murmured near her ear. His breath stirred the fine hair at her temple.
Scarlett scowled at the horizon. “I’d rather sit stiff than melt into ye.” “Ye say that,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth brushing her hair, “but ye’ve nae protested the last mile.”
She bristled. “Because I’d like to keep me neck in one piece. If I so much as twitch, ye’ll scold me for throwing us off balance.”
Robert gave a low hum. “Och, so it’s fear, not stubbornness.”
“Fear?” She twisted her head just enough to glare. “Of what? Of ye?” He didn’t flinch. “Of wanting me.”
Scarlett sucked in a breath, nearly choking on it. “Arrogant brute.”
He only chuckled, deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through her spine.
She turned forward quickly, her cheeks blazing hotter than the afternoon sun. Silence stretched for a while but not a comfortable one. Every so often, she felt his gaze dip to her jaw, her neck, and then the quickening flutter of her pulse there.
Finally, to keep her mind from unraveling, she asked, “So tell me, husband, do ye haunt the stables every night, or was I simply blessed with poor timing?”
Robert’s lips quirked against her temple. “I haunt wherever Me Lady decides to cause trouble.”
Scarlett huffed. “Och, so I should take pride in me shadow?”
He leaned slightly, his voice brushing the curve of her ear. “Aye. I’d say few lasses have a shadow so loyal.”
Her belly clenched, traitorous thing. She tried to cover it with sarcasm. “Loyal? Sounds more like a gaoler than a husband.” “Ye’d run wild without me.”
“Aye,” she shot back, chin tilting. “And I’d enjoy every second.”
His laugh startled her. Short, rough, and genuine. She wasn’t sure if it pleased or infuriated her more.
She huffed, crossing her arms as best she could while still holding the reins. “Ye think too highly of yer control.”
Robert glanced at her sidelong, mouth curving faintly. “Ye think too highly of yer freedom.”
Scarlett muttered under her breath, “Better too high than none at all.”
By the time they reached the village, she had nearly gnawed her own tongue to keep from saying something truly foolish.
The marketplace was alive with noise and color, a riot against the gray cottages.
Children darted between stalls, women bartered over fish, and the smell of warm bread curled through the air, making her stomach twist with sudden hunger.
Sliding off the mare, she steadied herself with a hand on the saddle, legs unsteady from the ride.
Robert dismounted after, handing the reins to a stable boy with a curt nod.
Folk dipped their heads as he passed, whispers trailing in his wake.
Scarlett straightened her spine, refusing to shrink beside him.
“Does it never weary ye?” she murmured as they walked, nods and whispers following them.
“What?” he asked, scanning the crowd with the cool ease of someone who expected obedience.
“Folk treating ye like some walking godstone. Bows and stares.”
He shot her a look, one brow rising. “Better their bows than their blades.”
Scarlett sniffed though his answer lodged uncomfortably in her chest.
Trust him to turn it grim.
They wove through the stalls side by side, Scarlett’s eyes darting everywhere, greedy for the brightness. Bolts of dyed wool, ribbons in blues and greens, pots of pottery glazed with earthy reds. Her fingers itched for parchment and color to trap it all.
“There,” she whispered, tugging at his sleeve before she thought better of it. Heat flooded her face, but Robert followed her gaze without comment.
A small booth stood near the well, its table lined with jars of pigment, reds like crushed berries, yellows bright as sunlight, blues deep as river water. Scarlett was excited.
She stepped closer, almost reverently. “I havenae seen shades like these since…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“Since Hallow?” Robert supplied, his voice quiet.
Her throat tightened. “Aye.” She reached out then drew her hand back before touching the jars. “I used to dream of painting the walls there with colors like this. To make them come alive.”
Robert studied her then he said, “So buy them.”
She hurried forward, palms trembling as she lifted one jar then another, turning them to the light like precious jewels.
The merchant, a squat man with soot under his nails, grinned. “Fine eye ye’ve got, Me Lady. Best colors this side of Inverness.”
Scarlett clutched two jars to her chest, dizzy with delight. “How much?”
The man rubbed his hands together. “For ye? Two crowns.” Scarlett blinked. “Two…”
A clink of coin cut her off. Robert’s hand slapped the table.
The merchant’s eyes went wide. “A pleasure, Me Laird.” He snatched up the coins as quickly as a rat, bowing until his forehead nearly brushed the wood.
Scarlett turned, scandalized. “Robert! I had the coin.”
He ignored her, lifting the jars from her arms with maddening ease. He examined them for a moment then pressed them back into her hands. His fingers brushed hers, lingering just long enough for her breath to falter.
“They’re yers,” he said simply.
Scarlett hugged the jars close. “I daenae ask ye to–”
“And I daenae ask for yer thanks.” His gaze caught hers, dark and steady. “But I’ll take it anyway.”
Her throat worked. “Thank ye,” she whispered, barely audible.
A spark flickered in his eyes before he turned away, scanning the crowd like the exchange meant nothing to him.
Scarlett followed, hugging the colors tight to her chest, her heart still stumbling in her ribs. She could not decide if she wanted to smack him or kiss him.
As they made their way back toward the horses, she muttered, “Ye’ve a terrible habit, ye ken.”
Robert glanced down at her, brow raised. “And what’s that?” “Thinking ye can solve everything with coin and command.” He smirked. “Did it work?”
Scarlett’s lips twitched, torn between laughter and fury. “This time.”
They mounted again, her body traitorously aware of every inch pressed against his. The jars clinked softly in her satchel, little promises of freedom she had not thought she’d ever hold.
He smirked, and it only made her want to throttle him more.
The village hummed around them, all color and sound. Chickens squawked underfoot, merchants shouted prices, and the air smelled of roasting meat and yeast. Scarlett hugged her jars tighter, the memory of his hand at hers still sparking across her skin.
“Ye didnae need to do that,” she said again. “I had the coin ready.”
As Robert strode, the crowd parted without him even asking. Folk dipped their heads, whispers trailing after him. “Ye can always let it go, Scarlett,” he said flatly.
“I’m just saying this in case of next time,” she snapped. His mouth curved. “Of course.”
Scarlett ground her teeth. The man was impossible. He stormed into her bargain, tossed coins like they weighed nothing, and now strutted beside her as though she were meant to swoon.
She was about to tell him as much when two young women in aprons slowed as they passed. Their eyes swept Robert from head to boot, bold as daylight. One whispered into the other’s ear, and both dissolved into giggles.
Scarlett’s stomach tightened. She fixed her eyes forward, grip tightening on the jars, but her voice slipped sharp and accusing. “Seems half the village cannae keep their eyes in their heads.”
Robert’s glance slid toward her, his tone amused. “Are ye jealous, lass?”
Her head snapped up. “I’m nae.” Too quick, and too defensive. Heat crawled up her neck anyway. “I just think it’s pathetic. All that sighing and staring, as if they’ve never seen a man with broad shoulders before.”
He smirked, infuriatingly pleased. “And what would ye ken about broad shoulders?”
Scarlett gave him a sweet, deadly smile. “Enough to say ye’re nae so special.”
Robert barked a laugh, startling a goose tethered nearby into flapping and honking. He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Liar.”
Scarlett bristled, shifting the jars in her arms like a shield. “Och, and ye’re arrogant enough to think every lass swoons when ye pass.”
“They do swoon,” he said easily, no hesitation.
Scarlett rolled her eyes heavenward. “God save me from Lairds with swollen heads.”
He only chuckled, the sound deep and maddening, as though she’d proven his point.
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “Ye ken, ye can just take yer pick of the sighing lasses and leave me be.”
Robert gave a low grunt of amusement, leaning closer so his words brushed against her ear. “If I wanted them, lass, I’d have had them long since. But I’m here with ye. Ye’re the only one for me.”
Her breath snagged though she covered it quickly with a scoff. “Och, ye say that now.”
“Aye,” he said without pause, “And I’ll say it again until ye believe it.”
Scarlett turned her face forward, willing her cheeks to cool. She didn’t want to admit how his words slid under her skin, how they rattled in her chest like something dangerous.
I willnae believe a word he says…
The horse’s steady gait carried them through the village street, the murmur of merchants and clang of pots spilling around them. Scarlett forced her eyes to the stalls, anything to steady herself. Then, as though caught by an invisible thread, her gaze halted.
Her heart jumped. Among the jumble of heavy brooches and gaudy rings in a jeweler’s display, one piece gleamed back at her, a simple necklace, a slender silver chain strung with a single green stone, oval-shaped and clear as spring water.
The sight tugged so hard at her chest she nearly swayed in the saddle.
It looks just like hers…
Robert felt her stiffen against him. “What is it?” he murmured, following the line of her gaze.