Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Father.”
Amelia shook as she spoke the word. Desperately, she looked around the courtyard for a servant or someone who hadn’t ridden to see what was going on.
Nay… Nay, they’ve all gone inside to take their breaks.
The man who had sold her, treated her as though she were nothing more than cattle to be traded according to his needs, stood in front of her. He was as solid as anything around him. She wouldn’t be so lucky as for him to be a figment of her imagination.
Going mad would be better than this.
“Why do ye look so surprised?” Alistair Mackenzie said, lowering his voice as he continued to approach her at that infuriatingly leisurely pace.
She couldn’t breathe. Even though he was still far away and the cries of men were high on the wind, she swore she could hear each heavy step he took. She tried to move. Her feet wouldn’t move. Her hands seemed glued to her sides.
Walking with a swagger that would be ridiculous if she didn’t know he had the strength to support it, her father looked around the courtyard.
She saw the moment that he realized they were alone.
Something wicked wafted into the air, and for a beat, she saw the beast he was.
Concealed beneath the cool, entitled demeanor was ruin walking in human form.
He continued to get closer, and Amelia couldn’t do anything but watch. In a deliberate show of control, he stopped an arm’s length away from her. She swallowed hard, holding her chin high in the only show of defiance she could muster.
“Did ye think I wouldnae find ye, lass?” he murmured, sounding almost like he was sharing a secret. The threat inside it was unmistakable, though.
Alistair made a show of looking around the courtyard. He went slow, giving Amelia just enough time to squirm in place. She knew he was gauging which wings were her favorite, which rooms she preferred to spend her time in.
“I dinnae think ye were a fool, Amelia,” he said, his cutting gaze returning to her.
“Ye ken that if I must search every keep in the Highlands to find what’s mine, I will.
” His eyes lifted to the towers of Fraser Keep, lingering there, calculating.
“And, if they kent who they were shelterin’.
.. well.” He shrugged lightly, the gesture way too casual for the threats he was leveling. “Clans have burned for less.”
If he discovers that Darragh has sheltered me here…
For a moment, the world threatened to spin around her as she tried to imagine the kind of vengeance her father would unleash.
Instead, her mind flashed to the morning she’d just spent in the kitchens beside Jinny, laughing at Isla’s attempts at authority.
It felt so far away now, like something she’d never get back.
“This place is well built,” her father continued to muse. “It would be a challenge, I’m sure but are those nae how we grow?”
Amelia forced herself to take a breath. Then, after a measured exhale, she took another.
She couldn’t let herself lose control here, not when help wasn’t coming.
Before her fear could get the better of her, she took a step forward.
She wasn’t sure if she was trying to make the situation more casual or if she was trying to escape to the castle.
“Laird Mackenzie,” a very old, very male voice said, saving Amelia from having to make a decision.
He approached them smoothly, slow with both age and influence.
A maid followed him, smiling apologetically at Amelia as though they hadn’t just saved her.
He looked from Amelia to Alistair. “It seems we are the only ones left behind. Could ye help me with me horse? The stubborn creature refuses to follow the others. She might listen to someone that isnae me.”
Alistair’s gaze stayed on Amelia, a thin, knowing smile that made her skin crawl on his lips as he said, “They’re fickle creatures, arenae they? Ye do everythin’ ye can to train them correctly, but they still have minds of their own. And sometimes they make the wrong decisions.”
He walked away then, following the other laird to his misbehaving horse.
Even when he wasn’t fully facing her, she could feel his gaze on her the same way a mouse might feel a hawk’s.
Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, but it was far too late for that.
She couldn’t outrun him, not when he already had her scent.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.
She stayed stubbornly in place, watching as her father coaxed the older laird’s young, reluctant horse. It wasn’t until the two were through the gates that Amelia allowed herself to move. She walked slowly through the courtyard at first, forcing herself to keep an outwardly calm posture.
This isnae runnin’ from the keep. I wouldnae if I had any other options.
* * *
Darragh broke away from his group as soon as it was appropriate to do so. The wind in his hair, the strength of his mare beneath his rump, and his bow upon his back made him feel invincible. It felt good to be on the prowl, looking for his next target.
As he dug his heels into his mare’s sides, he murmured, “That’s it. As fast as ye want. Ye ken where we’re goin’.”
His eyes scanned the woods as they expertly moved through them. The advantage of hosting this hunt was that he knew where the land curved and dipped. And he knew where he’d catch a buck.
A fox too if I see one on me way.
He let his horse move as freely as she wished, going along with each rise and fall of her chosen path. While there was still something that felt fundamentally off, it went to the back of his mind. This is what he needed to clear his head, to strategize his next moves.
It’s like me father always said, “I’m nay just huntin’ game; I’m trackin’ down and eliminatin’ the thoughts that are holdin’ me back.”
As they came closer to the clearing, Darragh pulled up on his mare’s reins, murmuring, “Whoa, now. We’re goin’ to scare them away if ye go stompin’ any closer to them.”
She snorted but refrained from stomping to show her distaste.
The animal had always been smarter than the other horses, seeming to understand both spoken language and non-verbal cues.
So, when she jerked him to the side a little harder than entirely necessary, he knew that it was in response to being ordered around.
“I ken,” he whispered, stroking her neck as they slowly traversed the rocky terrain. He kept his gaze on the trees in the distance, looking for signs of animals lurking. “Soon, I’ll take ye out and let ye run as hard as ye wish, but we’re huntin’ today.”
He didn’t get a response, but that was favorable. It meant she understood and that she would cooperate for the day. However, he also knew that he had received his last warning with her. She would be running wild soon enough, regardless of what else Darragh asked of her.
Just like someone else I ken.
He sat up taller as the mare’s footsteps became smoother. In the distance, a shadow darted from behind one tree to the next. It was too big to be a fox, too graceful to be one of the men.
When it showed itself again, strolling slowly as if it didn’t sense the predator moving toward it, light caught on the magnificent antlers crowning its head.
The buck leaned down, languid and confident, nipping at the grass poking through the detritus.
He’d lived a long, respectable life, which was obvious in the way that he moved.
Darragh brought his mare to a stop and reached for his bow.
His muscles coiled with practiced ease. Without looking away from the buck, he positioned his weapon. His fingers caressed the light, solid wood of his arrows, not stopping until the grain felt just right against his callused flesh.
The arrow came away from the quiver easily without so much as a whisper. With a flick of his wrist that felt like coming home, Darragh strung the bow. His back grew straighter as he pulled the string back. Below him, his mare stilled, giving him the steady base that he’d need to take the shot.
Taking a deep breath, Darragh brought the buck into his sights. The animal was still grazing leisurely, his antlers brushing against the leaves and vines around him. As Darragh exhaled, he loosed the arrow.
It flew through the air, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The sharp tip buried itself into the beast’s chest, a thin trickle of blood running down his chest. Then, with no sound aside from the dull thud of his body against the dirt, he fell.
The buck felt no pain; his breathing stopped the second Darragh’s projectile hit. The animal would make a fine feast, and Darragh would see to it that each part was used with the respect it deserved. As he reslung his bow across his back, he nudged his heels against his horse’s sides.
“Go on, now,” he said, his hands finding the reins again. “Nae too fast; let’s nae ruin this for anyone else.”
She took the direction like a dream, speeding up but picking each step she took carefully to minimize the noise she made. The challenge was one she enjoyed, though most people would tell Darragh he was imagining it.
When he got to his kill, he dismounted gracefully.
The leaves crunched beneath his feet, but the sound was centralized to the area.
Even though it had been months since he’d truly hunted anyone or anything other than Amelia, it was still second-nature to land with soft feet.
At his core, he was a hunter, a predator that walked amongst men.
As he removed the arrow, the kill felt hollow. It wasn’t as if the buck was going to go to waste. They’d celebrate this appropriately, feed as many people as they could with him. But Darragh hadn’t been itching to kill to provide. He wanted to protect.
What I’m doin’ out here… it’s nae protectin’ anyone.
Standing up, he looked in the direction that he knew his group was. He’d need help carrying this back. Whatever victory he felt initially was hollowed out. The gnawing need to act only intensified, an instinctual knowledge that his issues weren’t being solved by hunting for fun.
And, while he couldn’t explain why, he felt as though there was something important that he was missing. Perhaps the stress of planning the hunt was finally catching up with him.