Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Darragh’s footsteps were silent as he tracked the girl’s flight. She was evasive, blending into the trees in a way that had nothing to do with how slight her body was. He caught another glimpse of her slipping through the foliage and followed like a bloodhound.
It wasn’t happenstance that he’d noticed her missing from her tent. He’d heard the irregularity of quiet, someone clearly trying to keep their footfalls silent passing by his tent. She was already being absorbed into the shadows when he left his tent.
“Ye just daenae want to accept help, do ye, lass?” he muttered under his breath, picking through the dense undergrowth as he continued his pursuit.
A moment later, the trees began to thin a bit, giving him clear sight of the woman. He rushed forward, no longer bothering to conceal his presence. The twigs cracking underfoot alerted her, and she turned toward him with wide eyes.
For a beat, she was perfectly still. Then, she broke out in a desperate run. The speed with which she moved was unnatural, borne of a prey animal’s survival instincts.
“Yer runnin’ isnae doin’ ye any favors,” he growled, jumping over a fallen log as she darted toward a dense cluster of trees.
She didn’t speak, but her breathing was so ragged and loud that he could track her by sound alone. Her exhaustion hadn’t lessened. Her body was still weak.
I cannae deny her feral gumption, though. She’s like an animal that refuses to be caged.
He anticipated her next move, spotting a group of bushes that was low to the ground to their right. With a controlled step, he changed course. His hands shot out, gripping the hem of her gown and sending her to the dirt.
A wheeze escaped her lips as her hands scrambled for purchase, her nails digging little trails into the earth.
He stepped over her, looking down at her, seeing a wounded creature that was relentless in her fight for autonomy.
This was the strength, the spirit, that had kept her alive when his men had failed to find her during their first sweep of the land.
And I suppose I have to be grateful for it. If it werenae for this, I wouldnae have found her alive.
Taking pity on her, he pulled her upright.
Even being caught didn’t dull the fight in her.
She lashed out, her nails scratching at his flesh, her bare feet slamming against his shins and ankles.
A wild sound tore from her throat, frustration, anger, and defeat all wrapped up into one animalistic noise.
“Easy,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her to restrict her movements.
She fought harder for a moment, thrashing in his hold. Her elbows dug into his chest with all of the force she could muster. As she attempted to wrench her arm free, she seemed to realize that she was truly outmatched here.
“Lass,” he said, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Quit yer fightin’.”
She turned her head toward him then, her green eyes a raging thunderstorm.
Her mouth opened, her lungs filling with air.
A scream, louder than anything he’d heard before, left her body.
It was her last defense, a wild and reckless attempt to get him to release her that would only serve to alert predators in the area to their location.
Reaching for a kerchief in his breast pocket, he tightened his grip, squeezing the rest of the wind from her.
He shoved the fabric in her mouth, only partly because he wished to silence her.
The last thing he wanted was to lose her because a wolf heard what it took to be an injured animal and came for an easy meal.
“Enough,” he said, adjusting his hold on her and spinning her around so he could look at her properly. “I’m nae lettin’ ye tear yerself apart nor get us killed by a beast.”
Her chest heaved, her mouth working as she attempted to wet the cloth with enough saliva to spit it out. The intensity of her gaze was even greater now. It was as if she were trying to set his entire being ablaze.
He watched her as her breathing slowly evened out. The tension didn’t leave her body, but it morphed into something less volatile. She looked less as if she were going to immediately run and more as though she were coiled for a fight.
“Will ye behave if I take it out?” he asked once he deemed her less of a risk.
The girl stared up at him, her eyes narrowing. Her mouth twisted into something as close to a scowl as she could muster with the gag, but finally, she gave a single nod, prompting him to pull the cloth free.
As soon as her mouth was empty, she spat in the dirt. Without trying to extract herself from his hold, she said, “I’m nae goin’ back there.”
“Ye’ll die out here,” he replied, the calmness in his voice only serving to infuriate her further.
“Better that than chains,” she snarled.
His hands shifted, grabbing hold of her biceps tightly. Beneath the sleeves of her gown, she felt warm. Alive. As he spoke, his eyes narrowed. “Nay one is chainin’ ye, lass.”
The girl threw her head back, letting loose a brittle, broken laugh. A bitter smile settled on her face, and she kept her face upturned. He waited for her to speak, but she stayed stubbornly silent.
“Do ye think that I dragged ye out of that tower to put ye in another cage?” he challenged.
“I ken it,” she replied with no hesitation, her breathing ragged from the struggle. “Men always find a reason.”
It wasn’t lost on him that he was still holding her captive.
He shifted his grip to her wrists. Her pulse pounded wildly beneath his palm.
His hands were holding her steady rather than the iron chains he’d found her in.
The only difference to her was the temperature of her binds.
And he could tell that the warmth didn’t matter to her.
* * *
Amelia bared her teeth at the man as he began to walk them toward the camp. He’d given up on arguing with her, it seemed, instead hauling her back. She wondered if he realized that he was proving her point. Or perhaps he was afraid that she’d try to dig her canines into his flesh.
“Ye need to ken this is me land,” he said, slowing his pace as he guided her over exposed, gnarled roots. “I decide which dangers enter.”
She huffed, her eyes focused on the ground in front of them. Was she not held captive on this land? His logic dictated that he’d allowed it.
“What happens to the dangers that are already here, then?” she asked finally, fallen leaves crunching under her toes.
“That,” he said, the grip he had on her wrist relaxing slightly, “depends entirely on whether or nae ye keep threatenin’ to bite me.”
Despite herself, Amelia snorted. When Darragh turned toward her, she snarled, flashing her teeth at him again. He scoffed at her before he continued leading her to the camp.
As soon as they were back in the village of canvas structures, he completely bypassed the tent that she’d been assigned. Another wave of panic surged through her. It seemed as if she’d no longer be allowed the small bit of freedom she’d been afforded when she first arrived.
“Where are ye takin’ me?” she demanded, digging her heels into the ground.
“Clearly ye cannae stay in a tent,” he replied. “Ye’re too tempted to run free. Me men and I cannae watch ye properly in the open air.”
“So ye’re throwin’ me in a cell?” she exclaimed, yanking her arm back but not succeeding in freeing herself. “Ye said ye wouldnae throw me in another cage, yet that’s exactly what ye’re goin’ to do.”
“I dinnae say that ye’re bein’ thrown in a cell,” Laird Fraser said, continuing to drag her along. “I’m simply transportin’ ye somewhere that’s better suited to yer needs. Now, are ye goin’ to walk, or am I goin’ to have to carry ye?”
“Well, yer description sounded quite similar to a cell,” she complained, reluctantly following again to save herself the humiliation of being thrown over the man’s shoulder. “Actually, yer description might as well have been somewhere that I cannae run away.”
“I’m takin’ ye to Fraser Keep,” he explained, approaching the area that had been sectioned off for the care of the horses. “I was goin’ to take ye there in the mornin’, but for yer own sake, we’ll be makin’ the short journey tonight.”
She wasn’t given a chance to continue her debate.
A groom approached them, leading a handsome mare.
When it dawned on her that they’d be riding together, she nearly protested that she knew how, but she caught herself.
It was highly unlikely that an orphan would have learned.
And if he didn’t know who she was, then there was going to be nobody.
Not a Laird’s inconvenient daughter nor a Lady meant to be a prize.
“And rope,” Darragh said to the other man. He turned toward Amelia as the groom walked away. “Ye’re under me protection now, and ye will remain under me protection until ye’re healed, whether ye agree to it or nae.”
Ach, but I’m nae a prisoner, and he’s nae the same as the others.
“What do ye need that for?” she asked when the groom returned.
“I’m nae allowin’ ye to injure yerself on the ride,” Darragh said, tucking the length of rope under his arm.
She squeaked when he grabbed her waist, beginning to hoist her toward the saddle. Her feet flailed, catching his thighs and shins. She slammed her fists against his arms, trying to free herself, the prospect of being tied for the length of the ride unacceptable.
“I can either bind ye now so that ye daenae have control of yer arms and legs, and therefore will have a much more unpleasant ride,” he grunted, his hold not loosening a single bit, “or ye can let me tie ye to the saddle after ye’re seated comfortably. It is yer choice. And ye need to make it now.”
After giving his shin one more firm kick with her heel, she went limp in his hold. Begrudgingly, she said, “If I must get on that horse, I’d prefer to be comfortably in the saddle.”
“Good,” he said, the praise sounding much kinder than his instructions just a moment before. “Now, daenae fight me while I get ye settled. Make both of our situations easier, aye?”
Amelia had no desire to make this easy for him, but her desire to be restrained as she had been in the tower was even less appealing, so she gave him a single, tense nod. Then, he adjusted his hold on her, depositing her directly on the saddle.
Once his hands left her waist, Amelia considered jumping from the horse. The steed was tall, though. She wasn’t sure if she’d land on her feet, and even if she did, there were more people around. She’d be caught quickly, and then she’d be restrained just as Darragh had threatened.
“This is goin’ to be a wee bit tight,” he said as he expertly tied her to the saddle. “I daenae want ye topplin’ off.”
She scoffed in lieu of a proper answer. The rope was tight against the top of her thighs, her mobility severely restricted. If she were to try to dismount now, she’d simply dangle from the animal.
“There,” he said under his breath, mostly to himself.
Then, in a smooth, practiced motion, he joined her in the saddle.
His chest was warm against her back, his strength just as evident even when he wasn’t restraining her.
“We will arrive in half an hour. I will be ridin’ fast. Daenae squirm too much, lest ye knock yerself loose and sustain even more injuries. Do ye understand?”
“Aye,” she said through gritted teeth, her entire body stiffening at the feel of him directly behind her. He was inescapable, and it made her head spin. Compared to him, her form felt fragile, breakable.
That’s nae what I am. And I willnae let his proximity trick me into thinkin’ that I’m weak.
With a grunt, Darragh dug his heels into the horse’s side. The animal dutifully started forward, leaving the rescue camp behind easily. As they rode away, she vowed to herself that all of this was temporary. The second she could, she would escape him.