Chapter 21
"Are ye sure this is the right way?"
Mollie's voice was tight with apprehension as they pushed deeper into the forest. The trees had grown thicker, the underbrush more tangled, and the fading light made it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead.
"I think so." But Maia wasn't sure at all. She'd only been to the forest a handful of times since arriving at Castle McGill, and always with Ewan guiding the way. Now, with darkness falling and her heart still aching from what she'd witnessed, she felt utterly lost.
In more ways than one.
Every step away from the castle felt wrong. Every breath she took felt hollow. Her chest ached with a pain that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the image burned into her mind—Laura straddling Ewan's lap, her hands on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him.
Stop thinkin' about it. It doesnae matter anymore. Ye're leavin'. Ye'll never have to see them together.
But somehow that thought hurt even worse.
"Maybe we should stop for the night," Mollie suggested, her voice pulling Maia from her spiral of misery. "Find somewhere to shelter until mornin'. It's gettin' too dark to travel safely."
Maia knew her friend was right. The forest was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate, shadows deepening with every passing minute. They could easily get lost, or worse—fall and injure themselves with no one around to help.
But the thought of stopping, of having time to sit and think about everything she was leaving behind, about the look on Ewan's face when he realized she was gone—
Would he even care? Or would he just shrug and return to Laura, grateful that the complication of Maia Ferguson had resolved itself?
"Just a bit further," she said, her voice rough. "If we can get to the main road, we can follow it to the next village. Find an inn or somewhere safe to stay. I have some coin, nae much, but enough for a room and maybe some food."
"Maia—"
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, cutting off whatever Mollie had been about to say.
Maia's scream died in her throat as she was yanked backward against a hard body. Panic exploded through her chest, white-hot and overwhelming. Her heart slammed against her ribs as strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
She struggled, tried to bite, tried to kick backward at whoever had grabbed her. But the grip on her was iron-strong, unbreakable, and the hand over her mouth pressed so hard she could barely breathe.
"Got ye, ye little bitch."
The voice was horribly familiar. Rough and cruel and full of vicious satisfaction.
Uncle Callen.
"Let her go!" Mollie's voice rang out sharp with fear, followed immediately by the sound of a struggle. Then came a meaty thud and Mollie's cry of pain.
"Mollie!" Maia tried to scream, but the hand over her mouth muffled the sound into nothing more than a desperate whimper.
She twisted in her captor's grip—not her uncle, she realized with sick clarity, but one of his guards—and saw Mollie being held by another man. Blood trickled from her friend's split lip where he'd struck her, and her eyes were wide with terror.
"Well, well." Callen Ferguson stepped into view, materializing from the shadows like something out of a nightmare. His beady black eyes gleamed with malicious triumph in the dying light. "Look what we have here. Me wayward niece, runnin' away from her supposed protector. How very convenient."
Maia's blood ran cold. How was he here? How had he known where to find them? How had he gotten this deep into McGill territory without being caught?
"I've been watchin' the castle for days," Callen said, as if reading the questions written across her face. "Waitin' for an opportunity. Hopin' ye might do somethin' stupid."
His lips curved into a cruel smile. "And then—then I see ye sneakin' out like a thief in the night, headin' straight into the forest with only yer maid for protection. Did ye really think I wouldnae be watchin'? Waitin' for exactly this kind of foolishness?"
Maia tried to speak, tried to say something—anything—but the hand over her mouth prevented it. She could only stare at her uncle with growing horror as he moved closer.
"Ye've defied me for the last time," Callen continued, his voice dropping to that low, venomous tone she remembered from six years of abuse.
"First ye let that McGill bastard steal ye away—oh, daenae look so surprised.
I ken ye helped him. That traitorous maid of yers told me everythin' before I had her family thrown out of their home. "
A muffled sound of anguish came from where Mollie was being held. Maia's heart clenched.
Mollie's family. Oh God, what has he done to Mollie's family?
"And now," Callen said, moving even closer until Maia could smell the whisky on his breath, "now ye've made me look weak in front of the entire region.
Made me look like a man who cannae even control his own niece.
Made me a laughingstock because some Highland bastard walked into me castle and took what was mine without consequence. "
I was never yers. I was never anyone's property.
But Maia couldn't say the words. Could only glare at him over the guard's hand, her chest heaving with fear and fury and desperate, helpless rage.
"Well, nae more." Callen's hand shot out and gripped her chin, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
He wrenched her head around, forcing her to look directly at him.
"Ye're comin' back with me. Tonight. Right now.
And I'm goin' to find ye the worst, most brutal husband I can—someone who'll beat that defiance out of ye, who'll break ye the way I should have broken ye years ago.
Someone who'll remind ye every single day of yer miserable life what it means to disobey yer laird. "
Terror flooded through Maia's veins, cold and paralyzing. She shook her head frantically, tried to pull away from his grip, but the guard holding her only tightened his hold until she could barely draw breath.
"Oh, ye'll come," Callen said, his lips curving into a smile that made Maia's skin crawl.
"Ye daenae have a choice in the matter. And once ye're properly wed and under yer husband's control, McGill will have nae claim on ye at all.
The political embarrassment will destroy his reputation, and I'll finally be rid of ye and yer constant threat to me position. Two problems solved with one marriage."
The guard's hand pressed harder over Maia's mouth, and she tasted salt and dirt and her own fear.
This couldn't be happening. She couldn't go back. Couldn't let her uncle win. Couldn't let him lock her away again, or worse—marry her off to some brute who would hurt her, control her, destroy whatever small pieces of herself she'd managed to reclaim over the past two weeks.
Ewan. I need Ewan.
The thought came desperately, instinctively, rising from some deep place in her chest that refused to accept what her eyes had seen.
Even knowing about Laura, even believing he didn't want her the way she wanted him, she needed him now.
Needed his strength, his protection, his fierce determination to keep her safe.
Please. Please somehow ken that I'm in danger. Please come for me.
But why would he? She'd run away. Had left without explanation, without giving him a chance to explain about Laura. For all he knew, she'd simply decided to leave. Why would he chase after a woman who'd made it clear she didn't want to stay?
The guard's hand shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip, probably getting tired of holding her struggling weight.
It was all the opening Maia needed.
She bit down. Hard.
Her teeth sank into the fleshy part of his palm, and she tasted blood—copper and salt and absolutely worth it. The guard roared in pain and jerked his hand away instinctively, and Maia seized the opportunity with both hands.
"EWAN!" Her scream tore through the forest, loud and desperate and full of every ounce of fear and hope she possessed. "EWAN, HELP ME!"
"Shut her up!" Callen snarled, his face contorting with fury. "Shut her up now!"
The guard's hand came back toward her face, but Maia screamed again, louder this time, putting everything she had into it. "EWAN! PLEASE!"
The guard's fist connected with her temple, and stars exploded across Maia's vision. Pain radiated through her skull like lightning, white-hot and blinding. She felt herself sag in his grip, her legs going weak, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.
"Maia!" Mollie's voice, distant and terrified, barely penetrating the ringing in her ears.
"Get them both to the horses," Callen ordered, his voice seeming to come from very far away. "And if either of them makes another sound, kill the maid. Let's see if the niece is so defiant when her friend's life is at stake."
Maia's vision swam, the world tilting dangerously. She could feel herself being dragged, her feet stumbling over roots and stones, but it all felt distant and unreal, as if it were happening to someone else.
But through the pain and the fear and the gathering darkness, one thought burned bright and clear in her mind.
Please. Please let him have heard me. Please let him come.
Even if he didn't love her. Even if what they'd shared meant nothing to him. Even if he was with Laura right now, and wouldn't even notice Maia was gone until tomorrow.
She needed him to come.
Because if he didn't, if her uncle succeeded in taking her away, in marrying her off to some monster who would hurt her—
She'd never escape again. Never feel sunlight on her face without fear. Never touch lake water or see mountains or experience any of the freedom she'd finally, finally started to believe could be hers.
Please, Ewan. Please.
The tracks were faint, barely visible in the fading light, but Ewan's eyes were trained for this kind of work. Years of hunting, of tracking game through these very forests, of learning to read every bent blade of grass and disturbed leaf.