Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
“That’s it.”
Amelia let out steady puffs of air as she pushed herself and her new companion further away from the walls of Fraser Keep.
The forest grew thicker around the pair, muffling the sounds of anything beyond nearby wildlife and the dead foliage that crunched beneath their feet.
She finally allowed the creature to slow her pace.
“We cannae stop just yet,” she whispered, scanning her surroundings.
Try as she might, Amelia couldn’t see very far past the trees immediately encircling her. It was a good thing, she told herself. If she couldn’t see her father, he couldn’t see her.
The trees changed as she went further, keeping herself low against the mare’s neck. Large-leaved, new-growth trees gave way to needle pines as she pushed deeper. Sunlight barely reached the ground, and the only witness to her flight was the wind and the occasional bird flitting by.
“We’re doin’ it, ye beautiful beast,” Amelia breathed, pulling the animal to a stop when they came upon a road.
It was overgrown, showing no signs of having been used in years. She was still cautious as she crossed it, though. At this point, she knew better than to trust things to truly be the way they appeared.
Finally, the tension in her shoulders melted away. She let the mare pick her own pace, and she tilted her cheeks to the sky. Even without the sun, she felt an invigorating warmth. She allowed herself to take a slow, deep breath of relief before her attention snapped back to her environment.
As they rode ahead, she heard… something.
It was far off, and from a distance, it sounded almost natural.
If she weren’t listening so closely, looking for anything that might be human and dangerous, she might have mistaken the rumble for some furry animals scuffling.
Still, the underlying thuds told a different story.
Riders. On the path up ahead.
She pulled her mare to a stop, but it seemed that she’d realized she wasn’t alone too late. The hoofbeats grew louder, closing in on her not just from the path but from behind her as well. Her body froze, her mind completely unable to make a decision, to see what would keep her safest.
The mare began moving again, her own self-preservation strong. She trotted toward thicker trees, each step she took sounding quieter than the ones before. Amelia tightened her hands on the reins, trusting the beast’s judgment to lead them as she put together a proper plan.
She didn’t have long to think, though. Just a few seconds later, a rider appeared in front of them. On instinct, Amelia stopped her mount once more. The animal snorted beneath her but obeyed. She shuffled on her hooves, doing nothing to hide her desire to get out of the area.
The thought barely registered in her head; all of her senses were on who was sitting atop the stallion in front of her.
Silver hair, windswept and wild from a nervous hand being run through it—the only giveaway that anything was amiss—glowed in the ambient light. Icy silver eyes were fixed on her. It was as though he were memorizing each and every move she made.
Amelia’s entire body turned to stone. She was sure that her heart stopped beating. In a desperate attempt to change her reality, she squeezed her eyelids shut. But when she opened them, he was still there, unmoving, his gaze boring into her.
What was most unsettling to her wasn’t that he’d appeared without her noticing his approach.
It was that he wasn’t looking at her as if she were his daughter.
Instead, the expression on his face told Amelia that she was nothing more than something he’d mislaid that he was now inconvenienced by having to retrieve.
“Father,” she squeaked, though she was much too far away from him to be heard.
Finally, Alistair began to approach her. His horse moved with a victorious dignity that made her feel small. With a satisfaction that made her sick and froze her in place, he looked her over.
Like he’s checkin’ his product for damage.
“There ye are,” he said, his dismissive, holier-than-thou voice snapping her out of her stupor.
Her entire body tightening defensively, Amelia pulled her mare back a few steps. Fear and fury twisted together in her chest and her gut. Disgust took hold of her features as she snarled, “Ye’ve nay claim over me.”
Her father’s mouth curved faintly as he brought himself even closer, closing the distance between them. She cursed herself for being unable to turn herself around and run. Even if he caught her, it would be so much better than letting him walk up and take her.
“I have every claim,” he said, stopping several paces away from Amelia.
She watched him, her breath caught in her throat. Her brain begged her to run, but she was stuck. The horse beneath her was obediently staying put because Amelia had asked.
It felt as if the world slowed down as Alistair dismounted his horse. The action was smooth, practiced. Her chest jerked, her heel flailed, but she couldn’t get purchase, couldn’t tell her horse to listen to her instincts and run.
Even if she had complete control of herself, she didn’t think that she’d be able to dodge the way he was coming at her. An open palm flew forward, connecting with her cheek and sending a deafening smack echoing off the trees. Reflexively, her hands on the reins relaxed.
She scrambled to keep her grip, but her father moved faster than she. Before she had time to think, the leather was yanked away from her reach. As she surged forward in an attempt to regain control, a strong, unkind hand caught her wrists.
Pain bloomed in the places that her old wounds had just healed. Gritting her teeth, she exhaled sharply and tried to break away. He was stronger than her, though. His footing was so much more solid. Amelia never stood a chance, and she knew it.
Alistair pulled her out of the saddle as though she weighed nothing. She clung to the leather, to the smooth surface of the mare’s hair. Nothing she did changed her reality, though.
Her body met the ground with a sickening crunch, all of the air leaving her lungs. Her ribs, despite being bandaged tightly, screamed in protest. The pain that shot through her stole her breath and her ability to do anything except desperately attempt to keep herself alive.
Even as her father pinned her in place with a knee against her spine, Amelia flailed. Her palms ran through dead leaves and broken twigs. A pebble lodged itself beneath her nail, digging deeper with each desperate attempt to get out from beneath him.
Laird Mackenzie didn’t even react to her attempts to break free.
She couldn’t see him, her vision filled with the litter on the forest floor.
That didn’t mean she didn’t know the exact blood-chilling expression that he was wearing.
She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was watching her the same way that he might observe an unruly toddler.
“Just as I remember ye,” he drawled, gathering both of her wrists.
The bones that sat just where her hands began, that had finally been getting the padding that came with being well-fed, ground against each other ruthlessly.
Amelia let out a strained, high-pitched cry as she struggled against his hold.
All she wanted was for the pain to stop; escape was secondary to the pressure on her already-sore old injuries. It was nearly too much to bear.
Relief didn’t come in the form of being released but in a length of rope that was somehow more forgiving than the touch of her father. With the kind of quickness and practiced ease that made Amelia’s stomach turn, he tied her wrists behind her back. He dropped her hands but didn’t move away.
Instead, he seemed to derive some sick sense of amusement from watching her struggle.
She lost track of how long she fought against his knee and the dirt.
It wasn’t until she heard others approaching, the same cavalry she had been trying to escape, that his weight shifted, allowing her to draw in deeper breaths.
Her entire body shook, but she knew that fear wasn’t the culprit. The anger inside her roiled, becoming too big for her frame. If only she were stronger, if only she could do anything.
“I wondered whether Fraser would keep ye hidden longer,” he said mildly, his cool patience only making her anger flare even hotter. “I had a feelin’ ever since I heard rumors of a girl found in that tower…”
She turned then, using the extra bit of mobility his shift had granted. He was staring down at her as if she were nothing more than vermin. Without looking away from her, Alistair gestured for his men to stay atop their mounts.
With a roughness she was no longer accustomed to, her father yanked her to her feet. She stumbled, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. These men would not see weakness in her. She hadn’t been weak in a long time.
“Come along, daughter,” he said, finally taking his eyes off of her to look at his men. “We have business to finish.”
Her heels left a path in the dirt as he pulled her toward his stallion. Even though she knew there was no point to it, she fought harder. Her heart sank as she managed to land a targeted blow with her elbow, and he didn’t even flinch.
Me injuries… me rest… they’ve stolen me strength.
As he prepared to hoist her onto the saddle, his gaze flicked back toward the direction of the Fraser lands.
It was brief, lingering barely long enough for Amelia to catch it, but there.
She went still, the fight in her stopping as her mind began calculating, her gut churning with a sick realization.
“After the two of us square that away,” Alistair said, speaking as if he wasn’t about to tie her to his saddle, his tone casual and conversational, “I do believe the young laird and I have a matter to settle.”
Like a bowstring pulled too tight, Amelia snapped.
The fire broke from her chest and melted away the fear that had frozen her in place.
She managed to take two steps away from him, feeling wild.
He watched her, an eyebrow raised as his men tightened the circle around the two of them.
His fingers tightened around her forearm, the pressure from the tips aching all the way down to her bones.
“Please,” she pleaded, the word ripping from her chest suddenly.
The force of it seemed to catch everyone off guard, all of them stopping to stare at her as though she might do something unpredictable.
“If ye mean to spill blood,” she said, her voice shaking with rage and fear and a desperate desire to save the keep, “then do it here.”
As her father stared at her, his expression unreadable, Amelia lifted her chin and set her jaw. He took a slow, measured step towards her. She didn’t back down. She didn’t fear for her life but for all of the ones he was set on destroying without reason.
“Kill me and be done with it,” she said, swallowing hard. Somehow, she managed to steady herself, her tone deadly when she finished with, “Ye will leave him out of this. If someone must pay for me… for me actions… for me existence… let it be me.”
* * *
“Ahead,” a scout called, already riding back hard from his sweep. “Riders in the distance, Laird Fraser.”
Darragh acknowledged him with a grunt, already following the trail that the scout had placed in front of him. His mare moved with greater purpose. Even she sensed that what they were doing now was much more important than a hunt for leisure.
As the scout fell into place at his left side, Darragh caught the first signs of riders having been through this area.
Parts of the ground were flattened. Lower branches were broken off the trees.
One trunk bore the mark of a knife, either left so someone could find their way back or to send a message.
On me lands. I’ll send a message of me own. Hand delivers it.
“I caught sight of two groups of them,” the scout reported. “Both headin’ toward the same central location. That’s where we’re goin’ now.”
“Aye,” Darragh growled, pushing his mare to go faster, leaves hitting his face, wind whipping his hair and the horse’s mane. “Blow the huntin’ horn when we arrive. Gather our guard.”
As Darragh crested the hill, the trees opened up a bit. It wasn’t quite a clearing, but a stage in the center of thick forest. The first thing he saw, hanging proudly and drawing attention to the undulating crowd, was a banner bearing a green stag.
Rage hitting him like fire, he urged his mare forward. His hands tightened on the reins, the leather creaking in his palms, as he took in the scene and strategized his next moves. Men everywhere, all of them circling around… something.
A girl. They were standing guard, though it really looked like nothing more than watching, as two men forced a girl onto a saddle. She was fighting, kicking, and making a low, desperate noise. Even though her hands were bound, she was still using her elbows and shoulders as weapons.
“Amelia,” he growled.
Seconds later, the hunting horn sounded. It was a singular, biting note that cut through the forest like a blade. Almost immediately, he heard the approach of the riders searching nearby, responding to the call.
No longer able to think about anything but getting his lass away from her captors, Darragh shot forward. Branches whipped past him as he rode hard. The horn blared again, getting further away with each moment.
He didn’t register it as anything more than noise in the background.
Each and every one of his senses was focused on the image of Amelia fighting two men twice her size for her freedom.
He couldn’t get to her fast enough, and his hands ached to tear into the flesh of the bastards touching what was his as if they had any right to her.
This is the last mistake any of them will ever make. Amelia is under me care. Permanently.