Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Resting his hand upon his browbone, Darragh looked over the courtyard, walking through effortlessly. Even more riders had joined the troop, their horses restless beneath the bright banners and polished saddles. It wouldn’t be long until they were truly off.
“This is the first time ye’re takin’ this saddle out for somethin’ other than drills,” he observed, walking forward with the authority of a man who’d been attending this hunt for as long as he’d been able to ride on his own.
Without waiting for a response, Darragh expertly ran his fingers along the saddle, checking its fit before patting the mare’s neck softly. When he stepped away, he said, “I’ve high expectations for ye. This will be yer first time leadin’ men durin’ the great hunt. Ye’re more than ready for it.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the captain replied, raising his chin with quiet pride at having earned Darragh’s praise. “I willnae disappoint ye.”
The chaos of the moment had died down significantly since Darragh had locked the tension of his exchange with Ewan into the back of his mind.
He’d become an expert at diffusing tense situations.
While fights weren’t about to break out, he’d seen what unresolved energy could do.
His job at the moment was to keep collisions as they went through the gate to a minimum.
He completed his rounds just before the final horns sounded.
Positioned near the gate, he turned back to survey the gathering.
Several men had mounted their steeds, and others were doing final checks of their tack.
And walking between them carefully, her shoulders tight and her movements stiff, was Amelia.
She’s much closer than I imagined she’d let herself get.
“Amelia,” he said when she was close enough that he didn’t have to shout to be heard.
When their eyes met, he was transported back to the attic. Her lips against his, the way she pressed closer to him with each breath she took, the way she let him touch her…
“Will ye ride today?” he asked, the first to recover, his voice calm though he searched her slow, jerky movements forward.
Amelia shook her head, finally coming to a stop in front of him. “Nay. I prefer ridin’ on me own.” She looked down at something small and black in her hands. “Or… with certain company. But I’m quite particular.”
“Is that so?” he asked, ducking slightly to catch her eye. There was a flush over the bridge of her nose, but she refused to show any other signs of how flustered she was. “What is it that ye’ve got there?”
“It’s the reason I’ve ventured this far out,” Amelia replied, holding out the satchel. His satchel. “Mrs. Rowan handed it to me, and I decided that I couldnae deprive ye of yer lucky charm on the day of the hunt.”
There’s so much more she’s nae sayin’.
Slowly, Darragh reached forward to accept the pouch.
Their fingers brushed, the touch lingering as lightning crackled between them.
After a beat, he drew the pouch back, looking down at it.
For once, he wasn’t sure what to say, trying to measure the emotions underlying Amelia’s every shift and sigh.
“That sounds surprisingly responsible,” he said finally, tucking the satchel into his saddle bag.
Amelia’s shoulders seemed to be a little lighter when he returned his attention to her. She was still alert, her body refusing to relax around the chaos. As if trying to get away from the crowd, she took a step closer to him, igniting the tension that was now familiar between them.
“I am full of surprises,” she said, her eyes flicking to where he’d just tucked the sachet away.
The hum of suppressed emotion seemed only to grow louder. It might as well have been a physical thing tethering them together. The silence that they maintained was loud, a voice whispering that what they’d left unfinished was dangerous.
I cannae take this any longer.
“When I return,” he said, stepping in even closer, forcing her to tilt her head up to keep looking at him, “we will finish what we began in the attic.”
Darragh’s promise was warm and sure, and he watched as a shudder worked its way through Amelia’s body.
Her breath stuttered, and her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, fanning her impossibly long lashes against her cheeks.
A sympathetic reaction slipped through his own form, the heat of it gathering in his groin.
There was something below it, too, that he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was gone much too quickly for him to decipher it, but it left him feeling as though there was something wrong. Perhaps not with her but with the day. With the situation.
Amela took a deep, steady breath, her chest expanding with it, expelling the last of whatever uncertainty he’d picked up on. Then, as she exhaled, she smiled and said, “Win yer hunt first, Me Laird.”
* * *
Darragh’s gaze was heavy on her, adding to the pressure that was collecting between her legs. She didn’t think the slickness there was just because of the heat or the low buzz of anxiety. The exposure that was fueling her fear seemed to only make her reactions to his proximity sharper.
She was sure he was going to say something else. Whatever was growing between them felt much too large to ignore any longer. Already, he’d promised more, and she was done denying her own desires.
A horn sounded, followed by another. They blared over the conversations and laughter, harmonizing as they announced the imminent beginning of the great hunt. As the horns faded, the creaking of leather filled the space in the air they left.
Riders around them began to move, and Darragh mounted his mare in a smooth, practiced motion. It was impressive, but Amelia was too busy looking for the nearest escape route. She looked up at him, her eyes wide as she poised herself to leave.
Above her, Darragh watched. The understanding that flashed across his features when he realized what she was doing didn’t grate at her the way it once would have. Instead, embarrassment flooded her system.
“Stay inside the walls,” he said, his voice low but somehow carrying over the growing rumble.
“Aye,” she said solemnly.
They held each other’s gazes for another long moment. Then, as the pandemonium became too much for her to bear, she turned away. More carefully than she thought she was capable of, she slipped through the moving horses, somehow managing to keep from getting stomped on in the process.
Tucking herself against the wall, Amelia took deep, steadying breaths.
As she watched the men begin their surge through the gates, she brought her hand to her chest. The fluttering there wasn’t only because of her mad dash here, nor the proximity to such violent, masculine energy.
No, her mind seemed to be stuck on the explosive energy she’d just felt.
She longed to blame the intensity of the prior moment on her fear, but she was well past that. How often before had she come away from him with her heart racing? Had she not allowed him to touch her in her most intimate places?
I’d be a dobber to pretend there isnae somethin’ about Darragh that makes me heart race. And I’m too weak to resist it.
As her breath slowly returned, Darragh led the second wave of riders through the gates.
He rode his horse with the same ease that he had when they’d gone beyond the walls together.
The men followed him with the kind of trust that only competent leaders could command.
It wasn’t something asked for but earned.
Even that mare of his trusts him with everythin’ she has.
She kept her gaze on him, letting her hand drop to her side.
Even as more riders exited the walls, Darragh was the only thing she saw.
The distance did nothing to diminish his strength, his silhouette looking like something in an exaggerated painting rather than a real-life man.
It was enchanting, and letting herself feel closer to freedom than anything else had.
The courtyard cleared out quickly, and the quiet they left in their wake was deafening. She could hear the way her heart skipped a beat. Her breaths were loud in her eardrums, too.
Darragh’s figure finally crested the hill and was swallowed by the darkness of the tree line. A full-body shiver ran through her when she closed her eyes, and his image was still burned into her eyelids. The memory of his voice, his lips…
I shouldnae be thinkin’ like this in broad daylight.
It took her a significant effort to get herself together. No longer hot under her collar nor suspiciously sweaty places she shouldn’t mention in mixed company, she turned around. She’d done what she’d been asked, and she’d been given something to look forward to.
The castle will be quiet for the rest of the day.
Lifting her head away from the path in front of her, she saw a rider lingering in the courtyard. The staff seemed unbothered by his presence, but something about his form felt familiar. Far too familiar.
Silver hair caught the sunlight as he dismounted with controlled movements. She realized as she took a step closer that his eyes were fixed on her. Cold recognition flashed in his sharp gray eyes.
Nay. Nae here. Anywhere but here. Anytime but now.
His gaze narrowed, pinning her in place and sending her back to when she was nothing more than a wee lass.
Her knees shook now, the same way they had then.
Only this time, she wasn’t being scolded for breaking a vase nor ignoring a rule.
Whatever was coming, it was so much worse, and she had no one to protect her.
“Well now,” he called, his tone sending icy tendrils of terror through her. She tried to make her foot move, but she couldn’t, not when he was stepping ever closer. The triumph in his voice when he spoke again was enough to make her stomach turn. “If it isnae Amelia Mackenzie.”