Chapter Seventeen
Jacob had spent the better part of the morning telling himself he needed to find the right moment.
He’d talked to Liam, but now needed to talk to Elena.
The road was wrong for it, was too exposed and too full of ears.
His brothers and hers made no attempt at subtlety, the glances they kept sending between Jacob and Elena sharp with expectation, as though they half believed passion might seize them again, here and now, and they would simply throw themselves at one another. Eejits.
What he wanted to say to Elena did not belong on the road.
He had hoped that he might have a better moment once they reached Blackwood.
Yet even that was uncertain. Liam would likely choose not to linger, being as Wolvesly lay only a few hours north; they would in all probability press on, tired or no, and if he meant to speak before then, it might have to be here whether he liked it or not.
Since speaking with Liam the day before, having said plainly what he wanted and finding it met without rebuke, things had settled in his mind.
He had not gone to Elena’s father out of duty or guilt, though plenty might assume as much.
He had gone because he wished it so. Saying it aloud had been.
.. lighter than he’d expected. Less like submitting to necessity and more like stepping onto a path that had been in front of him the whole time.
He had not intended the kiss, had gone out of his way not to rouse that kind of trouble. Still, he did not regret it. Not the honesty of it, nor the way it had clarified what he already knew.
At that moment, Elena urged her horse forward, easing away from her mother’s side and angling toward where her father rode near the front of the small party. She drew up beside Liam, said something briefly to her father, and then put her knees to her mare and surged ahead.
She did not merely move on. She bolted.
In a breath, she had cleared the line of riders and was cantering hard, the space between her and the rest of them widening with every stride.
Jacob shifted his reins and was already turning to follow when Liam’s voice cut across the road.
“Jacob—leave her be. The scouts are ahead. She kens well enough nae to ride past them.”
Aye, mayhap. If she meant only to ride hard for the joy of it, she would pull up soon enough, but if she didn’t, the bend in the road would hide her longer than he liked.
He broke into a gallop, the wind tearing at his cloak as he crested the rise, eyes fixed on the stretch of track ahead where she had vanished.
The path dipped ahead, curving between a low rise and a stand of scrub, and within moments the rest of the party was lost behind the fold of the land, their voices swallowed by distance and wind.
The ground rose again beyond the bend, long and uneven, the track narrowing as it climbed.
Jacob leaned forward, urging his mount on, the thunder of hooves loud in his ears.
He caught sight of Elena as they crested the rise—a hundred paces ahead now, her mare stretched out beneath her, her cloak snapping sharply at her back.
She rode as if the devil were at her back.
“Elena!” he called, his voice torn by the wind.
She did not so much as glance back.
Jacob pressed harder, the gallop eating up the distance until he drew alongside her at last, matching her speed, his horse blowing hard beneath him.
Only then did she turn her head.
The look she gave him was cool, enough to suggest she wished to hold him at arm’s length.
“Elena,” he snarled, “will ye stop a moment?”
She hesitated, possibly debating whether or not to ignore him, but at last she reined her mare to a halt. Jacob did the same, pulling his horse slightly to the side so they faced each other at a modest angle.
“What?” She snapped impatiently, in a tone previously reserved only for her brothers when they annoyed her.
Jacob studied her face, noting straight away that she didn’t meet his gaze. “What the hell, Elena? Why are ye riding as if someone’s on yer heels? As if ye might outrun them?”
She frowned and shrugged. “I want to gallop. I was sick of the plodding pace.”
He didn’t believe that for a moment. “Nae. Something’s amiss. I can see it in yer face.”
Her fingers tightened on the reins. “Ye see naught. Ye imagine things.”
“Ye lie poorly,” he informed her. “Tell me what has ye agitated.”
She glanced up sharply at him. “Oh, will ye fix that, too? Will ye make everything right? Save me again?”
Astounded by her outburst, by the anger aimed squarely at him for no clear reason, Jacob dragged a hand through his hair. For a moment he could make no sense of it at all. Then understanding slid into place, though he could hardly credit it.
“Och, shite,” he muttered. “Elena—” He broke off, exhaled, then tried again, more carefully.
“Ye’re upset about the betrothal being forfeited.
” Honest to God, the idea had never crossed his mind, but clearly she was upset—and if not this, then what?
“I dinna expect...” he said, searching for words to express sympathy he didn’t understand.
When he couldn’t imagine any, he said instead, “Ye should ken this at least: Thomas Hamilton was nae good enough for ye. Nae in courage, nae in spine, nor in the way a man ought to stand for his wife.”
The thought sat heavily on him, almost painfully. It had never crossed his mind—not once—that she might grieve the loss of Thomas and the promise of that future, that her heart might have been given more fully than he had understood. He’d been so certain she felt something for him.
“I dinna expect...” He faltered, searching for understanding, trying to figure out what he’d misinterpreted, what he’d overlooked. Everything, apparently. “Bluidy hell, I’m confused.”
Elena’s green eyes narrowed and her mouth hung open in confusion.
“I’m nae upset about Thomas,” she finally said, her tone indicating Jacob was daft to believe she might have been. She let out a short, breathless sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m relieved,” she said. “God help me, Jacob, I’m relieved.”
“Well, Jesu, then what?”
At last she exhaled, blowing out the breath through trumpeted lips. “I heard my father speaking with yours last night.”
Jacob frowned. “Aye?”
“About us,” she said, still not looking at him.
“And?” He prompted, now having some idea where this was going, rousing a different concern—she was upset by what she’d heard and he didn’t think that was a good sign, having some idea what her father and his might have been discussing. “What did ye hear?”
“Enough,” she said softly, “to ken that ye spoke with my father, and offered yerself as sacrifice to save me from rumor and scandal.”
Jacob opened his mouth, but she lifted a hand, stopping him.
Elena lifted her chin at last, though her voice wavered.
“I ken ye, Jacob. I ken the sort of man ye are. If ye believe something is expected of ye—if you think ye’ve caused harm—ye will step forward with nae complaint.
Ye’ll shoulder it. Ye always have. And that,” she continued, voice beginning to fray, “is precisely why it should nae happen, any... arrangement between us.”
His scowl darkened. “Elena—”
“Nae,” she said quickly. “Ye dinna owe me your life—ye’ve saved me enough. Ye dinna have to tie yourself to me because it cleans up a scandal which we both ken was my doing.”
“?Twas as much mine as yers,” he stated. “Or more so—I could have avoided it.” He waited until her green eyes snapped to his. “If I wanted to.”
She stared at him, mayhap a bit surprised by the admission, or the truth behind it. But then she caught herself, shaking her head. “I willna wed ye because ye feel it’s yer duty to do so,” she said, her grip tight on the reins, her posture filled with tension.
And he saw it then, or thought he did, the wavering of her certainty. She believed he was sacrificing himself. She believed she was sparing him.
Jacob swung down from his saddle, boots striking the ground, assuming they had at least a few moments before the others caught up to them. He walked around his steed to where Elena sat on hers.
“Come down here,” he said, flicking his fingers at her.
She stiffened. “Jacob—”
“Come down,” he repeated, and then didn’t wait her out. He reached up, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her cleanly from the saddle before she could protest. He set her on the ground before him.
“I’m nae a man to be pushed where I’ve nae will to go,” he said, calmly but intentionally. “If I take a step, it’s because I’ve decided it’s mine to take. And I’m nae so careless with my life—or yers—that I’d bind myself where my heart was nae engaged.”
She stood very still, breath quickened, eyes bright with a mix of alarm and something else he couldn’t decipher at the moment.
“Ye imagine ye’re sparing me,” he went on, not softening. “And that,” he said quietly, “is what we’ll set right. I’ve nae blundered into this half-blind, or been coerced by any threat or expectation. As though I dinna ken my own mind.”
Her lips parted, and her frown deepened but he imagined shock was the most pressing emotion.
“I’ve lived my life knowing precisely what I will and will nae accept,” Jacob said. “I’ve turned aside things that might’ve made my path easier. I’ve disappointed folk who believed they were owed my obedience. I’ve walked away from what dinna suit me, even when it could’ve set things right.”
He heard hooves and voices behind him, their families drawing closer.
Elena glanced beyond him, over his shoulder.
“Nae, ignore them,” he said. “Look at me, Elena.”
She blinked and stared, seeming to hold her breath.
“I should have spoken sooner, Elena—years ago,” he confessed. “That’s on me—for being held back by the words of others, about the plans they had for you.”
Their families came closer yet, within hearing range, no doubt, but Jacob didn’t care.
“So when I went to yer father,” he said, “it was nae because I felt pressed. It was nae because I was shamed into it. And it was most certainly nae because I mistook obligation for want.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
“I spoke to yer father because I chose to,” he said quietly. “I chose ye years ago, Elena.”
That did it. Her shock broke, and her lower lip trembled.
“I’ve loved ye since we were bairns,” he said, the truth no longer something he was willing to skirt.
“Since before I understood what it meant. I loved ye when ye were fierce and sharp-tongued and too proud for yer own good. I loved ye when ye doubted yourself. I loved ye when ye were frightened and when ye were brave. I’ve loved ye in every season of yer life—and I’ve never once mistaken it for duty. ”
She shook her head faintly, as if the words were too much to take in at once.
“So dinna stand there and tell me I’m binding myself out of kindness,” he said, his voice still firm, employing the same tone his father used in lectures.
“Dinna tell me I’m settling or sacrificing.
And dinna say yes, ye’ll wed me, if ye consider it yer own sacrifice.
” He reached out then, hooking the frog closure of her cloak, and then met her still-startled gaze.
“Say that ye love me and there, it’s finally settled. ”
Her lips moved for a moment without any words escaping. Finally, she managed, “I’ve loved ye for as long as I can remember.” Tears slid from her eyes. “I love ye, Jacob. I always have.”
He pulled her into him, one arm firm around her back, the other rising to cradle her face, his thumb brushing away the wetness on her cheek.
The world narrowed to just them and when he kissed her, it was not hurried but certain, a promise sealed in the press of his lips against hers.
He poured years of longing into that kiss, feeling something tight within his chest unravel. Finally.
Somewhere behind them, someone let out a whoop.
Elena startled, her body stiffening within Jacob’s arms. Reflexively, she buried her face against his shoulder, mortified that her brothers, her parents—hell, perhaps half the world—had just witnessed the sort of soul-baring confession usually reserved for private corners of the night.
Jacob turned as well, his arm flung over Elena’s shoulder.
“About bluidy time,” Alexander called out, shoving his hand into the air in celebration.
David clapped his hands once, sharp and loud. “Ye owe me six pence, Malcolm! I said, did I nae? That Jacob would set it right?”
A cheer went up then—uneven, enthusiastic, wholly unrestrained. A few whistles followed. Gabriel Jamison’s horse danced sideways, but its rider was smiling. Meggie clapped a hand over one cheek, her eyes bright with happy tears.
Jacob grinned and kissed the top of Elena’s head, before pumping his fist into the air.
Liam MacTavish watched them for a long moment, his expression almost unreadable, until he nodded once, then again, slower and more deliberate, as if granting not only his approval but also a blessing.
The End