Chapter Four
Alana awakened with a jerk, groaning at the stiffness in her back, and shivered. She was freezing. Her fingers and toes were numb with cold. Slowly, she sat up, running her hands through her hair, which she had somehow managed to get pine needles and dirt mixed into it.
Lovely.
She must look a mess. Her mother would be most displeased.
She could almost hear her mother’s voice as she scolded her about the importance of taking care of one’s appearance, especially in the presence of the opposite sex.
Though she was for certs that Rory was not someone she should fash about.
Once again her thoughts traveled to how her father or her husband-to-be would react when they found out how she had been mistreated by Rory Hart.
“Here.” Rory offered her the skin of ale and she took a long sip. “Good morn.”
“Is it?” She asked. “It doesnae feel good. As a matter of fact, it feels positively bleak.” She stood and groaned as her back cracked. “I dinnae believe I have e’er slept so uncomfortably in all my life.”
Rory shrugged, his eyes watching her. “We have at least one more night outside. Ye should be used to it by then.”
With his boot, he stomped out the dying embers of the fire as she sat on one of the rocks and slipped on her stockings and then her boots. Thankfully, both of them had dried overnight. Hopefully, she would manage to keep herself and her clothing dry this day.
She looked up at the gray sky and frowned. The dark clouds moving lazily across the landscape didn’t look promising. She feared more wet boots, stockings, and clothing were in her future.
“We should go,” Rory stated impatiently as if she were delaying him.
Standing, she winced as her muscles screamed in protest. She would not let him see her discomfort. Refused to. Nay, she would carry on, maintaining her dignity and denying him the pleasure of seeing her suffer.
Holding out a piece of bread to her, she just stared at it, having the mind to refuse when her stomach betrayed her and let out a mighty growl. Snatching it out of his hand, Alana ate hurriedly as she watched Rory pick up her plaid, shake it out, and then roll it afore placing it in his pack.
Rory waited to ensure she had finished and then slipped his bag over his shoulders. She did the same, biting back the moan at the ache in her stiff shoulders. Once this journey was done, she vowed to never go on a hike again. These treks were why carriages were invented. Why horses existed.
Why she wasn’t on one now still baffled her. All because Rory was put off because he’d been tasked as her escort when he had plans to hike.
He could have gone on his hike after he had delivered her to her betrothed.
Just like the day afore, Rory walked quickly, causing her to hurry her steps so she could keep up, no matter how much her body didn’t want to accommodate the pace. She didn’t have a choice. She truly believed if she fell behind, he would just leave her. His oath be damned.
As he slowed his steps just a wee bit, she fell in line beside him, refusing to show him any amount of weakness.
She could do this. She just needed to convince her body that it was capable.
The way her body kept protesting was a sign that she needed to leave the confines of her home more often and enjoy some time in the beauty of nature that surrounded her.
Her home, Auchenford, wasn’t set in such a beautiful backdrop as these lands offered, but it held its own beauty.
They climbed a particularly steep hill, and Alana slipped again.
She was surprised when strong arms closed around her, preventing her from falling.
Rory held her steady as she caught her balance, looking down at her with what looked to be genuine concern on his face.
As soon as she was stable, he let go quickly, as if he’d been stung by a hundred bees.
On and on they went, the rain thankfully not arriving and saving her from another wet walk. With the ground remaining dry, she had less chance of slipping, which meant less opportunities to have to rely on Rory for help—which she refused. Nay, she would not ask for his assistance again.
Even when her feet formed blisters from the fast pace in which they walked. She remained quiet. Nary a whimper escaped her gritted teeth as she pushed forward.
They continued on with no respite, her feet painfully blistered so that she finally had to speak up. “Must we go at such a pace all day? Cannae we slow down?”
“Nay.”
One word. That was all he gave her. She clenched her fists. This man was truly insufferable. Uncaring. “Ye are going too fast, and I believe ye are doing it on purpose.” She finally gave in. “Are ye trying to break me?”
He paused, his back stiff and turned to her. “As ye have said more than once, my lady,” he said sarcastically. “Ye are on a schedule. I am only trying to ensure ye dinnae leave yer dear betrothed waiting overlong for yer arrival.” He spun and continued on.
Alana had no choice but to carry on, seething, as she glared at his back. A very broad back, she noted, but chased away the thought as soon as it entered her mind. Rory Hart was not someone she would give another thought to after this trip was said and done.
At least the clouds had finally broken up and the sun appeared, warming her skin. She took relief in that and tried to think of aught but the blisters on her feet as they continued on their journey.
She looked at the thick trees, tall and strong as they swayed in the light breeze.
Listened to the birds twittering away as they passed.
The squirrels chittering as they scattered, jumping from branch to branch, as she and Rory drew near.
A hawk’s cry in the distance. The lush green of the forest. She had to admit it was beautiful.
The Highlands were like naught she had ever seen.
They were so very different than where she had spent all of her life in the lowlands.
The landscape there was more open with less trees.
The fields were green, but there was something about being this far north that changed the colors.
The green was deeper. Darker. More beautiful.
She had feared that she would miss her familial home when she had left, but the beauty of the Highlands for certs would help ease her sense of loss.
“We will stop here for a brief respite.”
Alana almost cried in relief. But she didn’t.
To do so would show Rory how much she was struggling, and she would not allow him to see that.
She wouldn’t give him whatever sliver of satisfaction that he might gain from seeing her suffer.
Instead, she nodded and excused herself so that she could take care of personal matters in private.
“Dinnae stray far.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Where’er would I go? I dinnae ken where we are.”
His face softened, just a touch. “I only want ye to be safe is all.”
“I will be certs to watch my surroundings as I relieve myself.” She rolled her eyes as she moved out of sight.
Once she had, she slumped over, walking gingerly, trying to nurse her feet the best she could.
She darenae remove her boots for fear that she would not be able to put them back on.
She would administer to them when they stopped for the night.
How long from now would that be she couldn’t ascertain. They’d been walking for quite some time today, but she was sure dusk was far from them.
Slowly, she made her way back to where Rory was leaning against a tree waiting. She straightened when she saw him, forcing herself to walk without limping.
He offered her some dried meat and ale.
This time she didn’t fight him and accepted his offering.
“We have gone aboot half the distance we need today.”
Half? She fought back the tears that threatened. However was she going to make it through the rest of the day?
“If ye are ready, we can push forward.”
She wanted to whimper and beg for lenience but kenned it would get her nowhere. Still, she asked for a small boon to see if he would appease her. “Can we please slow our pace? Just a wee bit?”
“I am keeping the pace that will get us to yer betrothed in the allotted time. If ye cannae keep up, ye’ll be left behind,” he added coldly.
She sighed, closing her eyes, and tilting her head up to the sky. Why? Why did it have to be Rory Hart to escort her? Clearly, he did not want the task. And he was making her miserable on purpose. As if he was trying to prove some unkenned point. What? That she wasn’t a hiker?
Aye.
He only had to ask her and she would admit to that.
For him to hold such anger against her because she delayed his planned hiking trip seemed like a dastardly thing to do. She hadn’t ordered him to escort her. If aught, he should be angered with his father. He was following his orders, not hers.
Alana was beginning to think she would have been better off with the men her husband-to-be had sent to her. They hadn’t taken kindly to her, that was obvious, but they hadn’t made her hike.
Nay, they only abandoned ye the first chance they got.
Sighing, she ignored the stabbing pain in her feet and the blisters that were for certs growing larger with each step and hurried to catch Rory.
They moved on in silence. Alana refusing to say a word. Refusing to complain. To show weakness. She would not. But she could barely stifle her cry of relief when he finally announced they would be stopping for the night.
She did not even care that once again, they would be sleeping outside on the ground. She could only think of getting off of her feet, removing her boots and surveying the damage the days of hiking had done to them.
Just as the night afore, Rory handed her a blanket, then set about starting a fire to keep them warm for the night—and to roast the hare he’d snared.
All the while they spoke not one word to each other. Instead, they ignored each other. She found she much preferred the silence than his dismissive conversation.
Alana rolled out the plaid, laying it flat on the ground and nearly collapsed onto it. Quickly, she untied her boots, each loose of the lace took off the pressure on her feet and throbbing pain replaced the numbness she had begun to feel.
Slipping off the boots with a groan, she rolled down her stockings, the gray wool stained with blood from the blisters that had burst and the skin that had been rubbed raw.
With a wince, she dabbed at the numerous pustules covering the bottoms of her feet, the tops of her toes, and her heels with the water Rory had handed her earlier.
He probably meant for her to drink it, but she couldn’t right now.
She needed to treat her wounds. These would take forever to heal.
She for certs will be traveling with the painful abscesses for the rest of their journey.
“Here. Ye need to eat.” Rory’s eyes dropped to her feet and blew wide for a moment afore the uncaring mask he always wore slipped back into place.
Taking what he offered with a ‘thank you’, she nibbled at the meat, which he’d somehow prepared to taste quite pleasant on her tongue.
Alana wasn’t sure how he had managed such a feat, unless he carried a small stash of spices in his backpack.
She supposed he could be. She hadn’t paid any attention to what he’d brought along.
She only kenned that he was much better equipped than she was.
Not for his lack of warning. He had tried. She had just refused to listen. She could acknowledge her own stubbornness.
After Alana had finished her meal, she rinsed her stockings and laid them out to dry.
Rory was propped up against a nearby tree, wrapped in his plaid as he watched the woods around them. They hadn’t crossed any other travelers today, so she wasn’t sure why he seemed on edge this eve.
She laid down, trying not to think about how she would manage the journey on the morrow. She kenned that she would. Failure was not an option. Showing Rory weakness was also not an option.
Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the keepsake her mother had slipped into her hand as Alana was loaded into the carriage just afore she left Auchenford.
The bauble was amber with a tiny bud of heather encompassed within.
She had always admired it when it was on her mother’s chest of drawers.
The shorter one where she would sit in front of the looking glass whilst getting ready.
Her mother had always kept it there, in a small, round silver dish.
Now, it brought tears to her eyes. They slipped down her cheeks and wet the blanket beneath her.
She missed her mother. Her father. She sniffed softly, not wanting to draw Rory’s attention to her cries.
She thought about her future. The reason for her arranged marriage—to provide a strong alliance for her clan.
Financial safety for her family. Peace for her clan that would keep them from war.
She understood the reasoning, but it didn’t mean that she agreed with it.
Outwardly, aye. She would never bring shame upon her family by showing any resistance to the match. Alana would do what she had to do to keep her family safe and secure. That was the duty she had been tasked with and she would fulfill it accordingly.
But that didn’t stop the tears from falling as she turned onto her side, the amber clenched in her fist.
For the briefest of moments, her eyes met Rory’s. His look was softer as he assessed her, but he said naught. He only watched her, and Alana could only imagine what he was thinking.