Chapter 14 I DON’T BELONG HERE #2
All the same, the timing this morning had been perfect. She’d left while Craeg was in Lochbuie, meeting with some of his tenants. Cowardly, perhaps. But she didn’t want to face him. He’d only try to convince her to stay on longer.
Better to slip away.
Adjusting her basket on her arm, she focused on the path ahead. Her cottage was a short walk away now. Soon she’d be back amongst her herbs, her garden, and her blessed solitude. Her life would return to normal.
And she’d be away from dark eyes and gentle hands and a mouth that could so easily ruin her.
Aye, she had other problems to contend with now, for those men were likely still searching for her, yet face them she would.
“I won’t be forced from my cottage,” she said aloud, with more conviction than she felt.
Duncan’s ears suddenly flicked back. He stopped dead, his body tensing.
Then she heard it. The thunder of hooves approaching fast through the trees.
Her heart lurched. Christ’s blood. Had those men found her?
A horse and rider burst into view, a brindled wolfhound racing at their side, and relief crashed over her.
Craeg.
Duncan let out an ear-splitting bray. Ruadh reared violently, eyes rolling white, hooves slashing the air.
For a heartbeat, Craeg seemed to hang suspended, then his thighs clamped tight, and his hands worked the reins with practiced skill.
The stallion came down hard, still dancing sideways, but Craeg kept his seat.
Faolan dashed away to avoid being stomped on by Ruadh’s heavy hooves.
“Cursed donkey,” he muttered, wheeling Ruadh in a tight circle to keep distance between the animals.
Hazel grabbed Duncan’s halter, holding him firm. “What are ye doing here?”
Faolan rushed up to her then, tail wagging.
“Ye left without saying goodbye.” His voice was tight.
Hazel’s pulse leaped into a canter, heat flushing through her. “I thought it would be easier.”
She had, although the man had just complicated things by coming after her.
Turning away, she continued walking. Duncan followed, clearly pleased to put distance between himself and the stallion, while Faolan trotted companionably at her side. A thud followed, as Craeg dismounted.
A moment later, he appeared beside her, leading Ruadh. “I’ll walk with ye.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Nevertheless.”
She shook her head and gritted her teeth. The man was more stubborn than her donkey.
They moved through the forest in tense silence. The clouds thickened overhead, turning the afternoon light grey and flat. Wind stirred the oak and birch leaves, making them whisper. Somewhere, a cuckoo called, harsh and mocking.
“There was no need to rush off,” Craeg said finally. “Ye were welcome to stay longer.”
She swallowed, not sure how to answer. What could she say?
“I came to Moy for a purpose,” she said eventually, wincing at how stilted her voice sounded. “But yer mother has recovered now, and I’ve tended all those with ailments. It’s time to go.”
They walked on. Ruadh snorted occasionally, still wary of the donkey.
“I’d like ye to return to the castle … once a fortnight,” Craeg said, after a lengthy pause. “We shall keep yer infirmary ready for ye.”
“Moy can’t do without my help, eh?” she teased, desperate to take the edge off the simmering tension between them. She risked a look in his direction then. He walked beside her, the morning sun kissing his golden skin. His tone had been conversational, yet she marked the tightness of his jaw.
“No,” he replied, glancing her way. His gaze ensnared hers then. “Ye have become part of my household, Hazel. We’ll miss ye … I shall.”
Warmth rose to her cheeks. This conversation was getting awkward; she needed to steer him onto safer topics. Gripping Duncan’s lead rope tighter, she lengthened her stride.
“Of course, I shall return often to Moy,” she reassured him. “Its residents need me.”
“Ye wouldn’t consider moving into the castle permanently then?”
Hazel stumbled. Recovering, she shot Craeg a warning look. “I don’t think that’s wise, do ye?”
Their gazes fused once more, and emotion rippled over his handsome features. “Hazel,” he said huskily. “I—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, panic slamming into her. “Please, Craeg.”
And with that, she lurched forward, dragging her donkey after her.
“Hazel!” He was following her, yet she walked faster.
She had to outrun him—had to outrun whatever this was that bloomed between them.
A moment later, the twisted oaks gave way, and her cottage appeared.
Her breathing caught, her attention ripping from Craeg to her home.
The door stood wide open. And not just that. Even from this distance, she could see it was hanging crooked on its hinges.
She came to an abrupt halt, her skin prickling. Hades. Someone had tried to kick it down.
“Wait here.” Craeg was at her side, drawing the dirk from its sheath at his hip.
Heart in her mouth, she followed him to the gate and then watched him stalk down the path, his gaze cutting left and right as he went. Faolan stalked behind him, hackles raised. Moments later, both man and hound disappeared, only to reappear shortly after. He then beckoned to her.
However, as she rushed up the path, Duncan trotting behind her, she marked Craeg’s furrowed brow and the tense set of his jaw.
“What is it?”
“See for yerself.” His voice was hard with anger.
Hazel pushed past him and ducked inside. She then froze.
Her carefully organized herbs lay scattered across the floor, jars smashed, bundles torn down from the rafters.
Her table was overturned, the legs broken.
Shattered earthen pots oozed honey over the rush-covered floor.
Her pallet had been shredded, straw and wool everywhere.
Even her precious stores—the last of the elecampane, the rare tinctures she’d saved for years—were gone or destroyed. It was hard to tell which in the mess.
Someone had been here. Someone had done this.
Her hands shook as she knelt, picking up a broken jar of woundwort. The dried flowers crumbled in her fingers.
“Who would—” she started, then stopped.
She knew who.
Those men had discovered that a tall woman with black hair and blue eyes lived in the woods. They’d come for her. And when she hadn’t opened the door, they’d kicked it in. Their destruction of her cottage was a message.
We know who ye are.
We are waiting.
Her pulse started to thunder in her ears. Knowing she was being hunted was one thing, but seeing her cottage destroyed was another. If the situation hadn’t been terrifying before, it was now.
“Hazel.” Craeg’s hand on Hazel’s shoulder made her flinch. “Ye can’t stay here.”
“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t.