Chapter 3
He studied her face for a moment. She looked ready to argue, yet too tired to begin. The path lay dark and narrow, a ribbon through trunks and roots.
“Come with me, lass. Enough of this,” he urged.
She groaned. “I’ll follow. Ye have knocked the breath out of me, so I cannae run again.”
They moved together, close but not touching. Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked, but none of them cared enough to stop. He kept half a step in front, more of a guide than a guard.
She must have been so frightened that she managed to get lost. His mission was to return her to the castle, and that was what he was going to do. She matched him just as well, her steps careful but slightly slower than his.
“Keep up,” he grunted.
“I am.”
“I daenae want to have to drag ye.”
“Then daenae.”
The silence that followed felt thin, like silk pulled too tight. He could hear her breathing even out and her stride smooth. At this pace, they would get to the castle gates before the sky turned completely dark.
His mind drifted to the people waiting for him at the makeshift chapel.
How was he going to face them? What would he even say about this whole thing when he got there?
Would that not reflect badly on him if he were forcing a woman to marry him?
Especially since people still thought he was a heinous beast for killing—
“Wait.”
Her voice was sharp, and it dug into the silence with utter precision.
“Can I take a break?” she asked, pressing a hand to her side.
“Why?” He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed.
“I need to take a breath. Ye can walk ahead. Forgive me, I’ve drunk nothing but water all day.”
He exhaled, letting the cold evening air settle on his face. “Fine. Take a moment, but we arenae going to waste time. The woods arenae friendly at night.”
“Good thing I have ye to protect me.”
He exhaled and stared at her, then her eyes narrowed at him.
“What?”
“Well, I cannae go if ye keep staring at me like that,” she huffed.
He swallowed, then moved three slow paces and leaned his shoulder against a straight tree.
He folded his arms and watched the track ahead.
The smell of incoming rain lingered in the air.
He could smell the wet leaves, the damp soil from the rains past. He felt the shift in the wind before it properly settled onto him.
When it did, it was too late.
The crack came clean and hard as wood hit bone. Pain splintered across his shoulder, and he dropped to one knee, a groan escaping his lips. He watched the log she had hit him with drop to her feet, and the pain flared hotter.
“Ye wee devil,” he muttered.
By the time he looked up fully, she was already a flash of green among the trees, then she was gone.
He stood up, feeling the heat burn along his shoulder. Then, he drew in a long breath through his teeth, trying his best to ignore the pain.
“It looks like ye enjoy being hunted, do ye nae?”
He set off once again at a steady pace, ignoring the ferns that brushed his cloak. Low leaves tugged at his sleeve and left damp streaks, but he didn’t stop. The more he ran, the hotter the pain in his shoulder grew, but he was determined to ignore it. He had suffered worse and had done more.
Soon, the familiar flash of green reappeared in the middle of the trees.
“Emma,” he called. “Daenae make this worse than it already is.”
“Why can ye nae just leave me?” she threw back.
“Ye said ye would follow me,” he panted, pulling his feet harder from a soft patch of soil.
“I lied.”
“Aye,” he said. “Ye did. See, I thought ye were mature enough for me to trust yer word. Seems I was wrong.”
He watched her cut to the left through a stand of thick shrubs, and he followed behind her. The ground dipped to a narrow, wet path where water must have run earlier that day. She jumped across it, but he crossed it in a single stride.
“Stop,” he ordered, cradling his shoulder.
“Make me.”
“I will.”
A low root caught the hem of her skirt. He watched her wrench free and run harder. However, the brief struggle allowed him to draw a step closer.
“Ye ken, I must admit, ye swung that stick like a lad,” he called. “Yer aim was fair.”
“I was aiming for yer head,” she hissed.
“Oh. Then I take it back. Yer aim is abysmal.”
Before she could retort, her toe struck a hidden knot beneath the ground, and she lurched forward. He reached her on the tilt and went down with her, taking the fall so she did not cut her skin on the rocks.
For a moment, there was nothing but the aftershock in his shoulder and the air trying to return to their lungs.
“Get off me,” she breathed after a moment passed.
“Be still,” he grunted.
“I said, get off me!”
“Nae yet.”
He dug his knees into the dirt on either side of her hips and pinned her wrists above her head. Her hair stuck to her cheek, and her breath hit his sleeve in sharp bursts.
“Ye struck me from behind,” he said. “While the impact was strong, the aim was still poor.”
“I will keep that in mind for next time when I have a dagger,” she spat. “Now, get off me.”
“I will. But ye have to promise me something first.”
“What?”
“Nay more running.”
She glared up at him, eyes bright and fierce in the fading light. The scent of incoming rain thickened. Somewhere, a jay clicked and hushed.
“Promise me. Now,” he pressed.
“A part of ye enjoy this, nay?” she taunted. “Pinning down a woman.”
“I ken what ye’re trying to do,” he said quietly. “It willnae work on me.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them. “Fine. I am done runnin’ tonight.”
“Good.”
“If ye promise me one thing as well.”
Jack felt his knees sink deeper into the dirt. “I daenae ken if ye are aware of the dynamics here. Ye’re nae in a position to make demands.”
“I want ye to let me go.”
“What?”
“Let me go, please,” she repeated, her voice shaking. “If I marry ye, I’ll be miserable for the rest of me life.”
He stared down at her, at her hair, which still clung to her face almost like a final act of desperation. He could hear the tremor in her voice and the way it vibrated against him. He hated how that made him feel.
He had known women who wept to be spared. She was not one of them. Her fight made her dangerous and probably more alive than anyone he had met in years.
He drew a breath and pushed the thought away.
“Please.” Her voice cut through the damp air once more, almost like the final straw to break his resolve.
Slowly, he let go of her wrists and pushed himself upright, his boots leaving dents in the damp soil beside her.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. “We will return to the castle, and ye will go back to yer uncle.”
Her head snapped up. “Truly?”
“Aye. I cannae be the reason another woman is miserable in me castle. I cannae force ye to marry me.”
She sat up, brushing soil from her sleeve, her eyes searching his face for the lie that wasn’t there… or wasn’t there yet.
“Thank ye,” she said, her breath still shaky.
He watched her without responding. The silence settled again, broken only by the rustle of the leaves around them. Her faith in his word flickered across her face.
She believed him.
Yer first mistake, lass.
He stood up and extended a hand toward her. She hesitated, then took it. Her palm was small and roughened with dirt as he pulled her to her feet. When she stepped back, he let her go without a word.
They began walking once again. The forest had grown darker, and all the light that remained fell in dull stripes through the trees. The smell of rain continued to linger even harder. Hopefully, they would make it back to the castle before the heavens opened.
“What about the alliance with me uncle?” she asked after a while, her voice quiet but sharp around the edges.
“So ye ken what ye’re getting into?” he asked, giving her a look.
“As much as it might be hard for ye to stomach, Laird MacLeod, I am nae a fool.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “Never thought ye were.”
“Well?” she prompted, her eyes boring into him.
Jack exhaled. “Aye, it’ll stand.”
She frowned, her eyes narrowing. “How, if I’m nae yer wife?”
“Because ye will be.”
She stopped walking, the fear returning to her face again. “I thought ye were lettin’ me go.”
“I am,” he said softly.
She kept her eyes on him. “Then why say that?”
He met her gaze once again. “Because ye’ll come back on yer own. Ye’ll be mine one way or another, and by then, I willnae have to force ye to stay.”
The air seemed to close in on them. Her lips parted, but no words came out. He could see the disbelief in her eyes as the silence stretched out longer than usual.
“Ye seem incredibly sure of yerself, me Laird,” she whispered, her tone echoing the breeze around them. “Ye really are that certain that I would return to ye of me own accord?”
“As certain as I am of the ground under me feet,” he affirmed.
She shook her head as if to clear the air between them. “Ye think this is a game, do ye nae?”
“Nae a game,” he said. “A choice. One I’ll see ye make.”
Her chin rose. “Then ye’d be the most patient man on earth. For that time will never come.”
“I am,” he said. “Patience is a soldier’s trade.”
They walked on as the castle’s dark outline rose ahead. Lamps flickered along the courtyard, and he could still see rather faintly the smoke rising from the chimney and into the dark grey sky.
Neither of them spoke again, and for some reason, the distance between them felt smaller now. However, it was comfortable enough that he didn’t want to bridge it. And it was clear from the way she walked beside him that neither did she.
He cast one last look at her as they neared the gates. He watched the mud streak across her gown and watched her bright eyes, still blazing with rebellion. He felt the ache in his shoulder and smiled to himself.
He was right about what he had said, and he knew it.
He would win her, that much was sure, but he would not do it by force. He would make her come to him instead.