Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
B laine opened his eyes to freezing cold. Next to him, the fire had long since died out, only the last embers remaining. But Kathleen was warm in his arms, soft with sleep, and for a moment, he let himself bask in the joy of having her next to him.
It was only moments before horror struck him.
What have I done?
He hadn’t ruined her, that much was true, but he hadn’t shown the kind of restraint he had expected from himself. He should have never touched her; he should have never given in to his desires, even if he had only brought her pleasure .
The act had brought him pleasure, too. It didn’t matter that he had remained unfulfilled, not when he had seen Kathleen writhe underneath him and had felt her come apart on his tongue. He was certain that memory would never leave him as long as he lived. How could he ever forget it? The sweet sounds she had made, the way she had called his name, her fingers in his hair, tugging so demandingly?—
He stopped himself before he could plunge right back into sin. What was done was done, but he couldn’t allow it to happen again.
Gently, he extricated himself from Kathleen, but the movement disturbed her sleep. The next moment, her eyes were open and he couldn’t escape her gaze. Any hopes of having some time to himself were thrown right out of the window and he was left staring at her in silence, not knowing what to do next.
“We should… we should be on our way,” he said as he stood and began to strike camp. The entire time he worked to stomp out the last remnants of the fire and gather up their belongings, he could feel Kathleen’s burning gaze on him, but never once did he turn around to meet it again.
Before long, they were on their way, taking on the last stretch of road before they reached Castle Stalker. The wind whipped Blaine’s cheeks as they rode and the air was crisp, thin with chill, but it was precisely what he needed to clear his head. The night, the warmth, the close proximity to Kathleen—they had all lulled him into a false sense of security and he had slipped up, losing his self-control.
Never again.
Kathleen shivered in the cold, her hands frozen where she was holding onto the edge of the saddle. Blaine was riding fast that morning, pushing his horse as much as he could, perhaps just as eager as she was, to reach the castle.
She was eager because she craved the warmth of a big fire, the comfort of a nice bed, her friend’s embrace. She doubted the same was true for Blaine.
Daes he want tae be away from me now?
It sounded more likely than she wanted to think. She had feared this; she had feared that if they ever gave in to their desires, Blaine would immediately withdraw from her and retreat into his own world, as he so often did.
Daes he think it was all a mistake?
Kathleen certainly didn’t see it as one. She was glad Blaine had given her that. gift. She was glad she had experienced it once before she would be forced into what could easily be a pleasureless marriage. If that night was all she had for the rest of her life, then it would have to be enough.
If only he could see it the same way.
They would be in Appen before sundown, where Kathleen could busy herself with Fenella. If Blaine didn’t want to be around her, then he wouldn’t have to be, and they would both be released from the clutches of that awkward silence.
As they rode, though, Kathleen began to think there was something else at play—something much more serious than Blaine’s awkwardness and his refusal to acknowledge what they had done the previous night. He was too stiff, and Kathleen could feel him turn his head left and right as though he was searching for something. He had slowed down the horse, too, guiding down the path without ever stopping but also without rushing as much as before.
Had he noticed signs of danger that Kathleen had missed? It was entirely possible. After all, she hadn’t noticed the Campbell soldiers until it was too late, but he had immediately rushed to her aid. Even if she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary around them, if something was truly wrong, Blaine wouldn’t have missed it.
Just as they were rounding a bend, Kathleen’s fears became reality. A sharp crack broke the silence around them—a branch snapping in half under the weight of a boot. It was followed by thunderous footsteps as half a dozen men surrounded them, the entire stretch of road they occupied quickly erupting into chaos within mere moments.
Campbell men.
Kathleen could tell by their colors, identifying them immediately as the enemy. This was the second time they had managed to find her in the span of only a few days, and now, faced with an even bigger threat than last time, she couldn’t help but think it had been a mistake to leave the castle. Not only was she putting herself in danger, but Blaine as well. He was the one who had to fight them all off.
Blaine’s horse bucked under them, threatening to throw them both off the saddle, but he managed to control it just in time. Kathleen held on as securely as she could, gritting her teeth to stop herself from crying out in fear. The last thing she needed was to spook the horse even more, and so she did her best to remain calm even as Blaine maneuvered the beast to escape the ambush.
They had the advantage of being on horseback, while all attackers were on foot. Kathleen only had to hold on for just a little longer and Blaine would guide them to safety, away from those men. Tightening her grip on the saddle and flexing her thighs to keep steady on the horse, she prayed to God that Blaine would find an opening for them to get away .
The Campbell men surrounded them entirely, closing in on them. Behind her, Blaine tried to steer the horse with one hand, his other reaching for his sword. Just as he was pulling it out of its sheath, though, a hand closed around Kathleen’s forearm, yanking her right off the saddle.
One of the men had taken the opportunity to pull her off now that she didn’t have Blaine’s arms around her to shield her. As she hit the ground, all the air rushed out of her lungs, leaving her breathless and gasping. A dull, throbbing pain coursed through her upon impact, her back colliding with the hard ground with a thud, and the only thing that saved her from being trampled to death by the horse was Blaine’s expert riding, his quick reflexes pulling the creature away before it could hurt her in its fear.
But death seemed unavoidable. The man who had pulled her off the saddle was now looming over her, his hands reaching for her, and Kathleen could only hope she would meet her end quickly, unlikely as it was. Those men didn’t simply want to kill her; they would first take her back to their lands and use her as leverage before they even thought about disposing of her. Her death would be slow and miserable, and her captivity would be even worse.
The world blurred around the edges as panic gripped Kathleen at the thought of spending weeks, maybe even months as a captive. Her entire body was frozen, refusing to move no matter how much she tried to force her limbs to do something, anything. Her eyes prickling with unshed tears, she looked at the man who loomed over her like a beast, and made one last, feeble attempt to scrabble away from him.
Then there was a flash right before her eyes—sunlight glinting off a blade as Blaine put himself between her and that man, swiftly cutting him down before he could touch her. Blood sprayed all over, staining her skin and clothes a deep red. Once again, Kathleen was frozen in place, her eyes wide as she watched the blood fountain from the man’s throat where Blaine had sliced him open. A sickening gurgle escaped him as he tried to speak, only for him to fall wordlessly to his knees, the life draining out of him and his blood seeping into the ground below.
A soft, high-pitched sound reached Kathleen’s ears. It took her several moments to realize it was coming from her own throat—a long, shuddering sob that she couldn’t control.
To her right, a shadow passed with dizzying speed and Kathleen’s head whipped to the side to catch a glimpse of another soldier making a move for her. Adrenaline kicked in and her body moved on its own accord, her hand reaching for the small knife she carried on her as she tried to scrabble away from the man at the same time. Before she could get far enough, though, Blaine was there once again, a shield between her and the threat, putting himself in harm’s way without any hesitation.
Their swords clashed with a deafening clang, the sound echoing all around them. Kathleen had never seen anyone move the way Blaine did—so efficiently, so mercilessly. She had seen him fight before, but it was nothing like then. He was not merely trying to get away from the men with her. He was aiming to kill, and he did so with such practiced ease that there was only one thought in Kathleen’s mind as she watched him.
He’s done this afore, many times.
There was no other explanation. Blaine was a warrior—someone who knew precisely where to strike, someone who never once hesitated before taking a life.
Someone who seemed to have no remorse.
It took him only moments to corner the man and deliver the killing blow, slicing through his stomach. Kathleen averted her gaze as quickly as she could, but she still caught a glimpse of the carnage that followed. Bile rose to the back of her throat, burning and worsening her nausea, but she had no time to consider the dead, not when another soldier was about to attack Blaine.
He hadn’t seen him. The man approached him from behind, sneaking in just as Blaine took a moment to catch his breath. Kathleen had no time to think; all her instincts were working on overdrive, and her body moved automatically with only one goal in mind .
She had to save Blaine’s life.
She reached for a branch that had fallen near the road, gripping it tightly with both hands as she pushed to her feet. The bark was rough under her fingers, the wood heavy in her hands as she took one step, then another, stomping up to Blaine’s attacker. Somewhere within her, she summoned the strength to swing the branch with force, and it whizzed through the air and connected with the back of the man’s head, sending him stumbling forward, disoriented.
Blaine whirled around and upon seeing the man, he immediately struck him down. His blade plunged into the soldier’s gut and Blaine twisted the handle, drawing a pained gasp out of him. When he wrenched the blade free once more, the man’s hands uselessly tried to plug the wound. He fell to his knees before Blaine, taking one last look at his torso as though he couldn’t believe he had been injured, and then finally collapsed onto the ground.
Kathleen stood there, heaving, looking at the log in her hands as they began to tremble. The man was facing her, but his eyes were glassy, devoid of any signs of life.
The log was covered in blood. She didn’t know if she had been the one to kill the man or if it was Blaine’s attack that had ended his life, but either way, she was at least partially responsible for it. Whatever relief washed over her at the knowledge that the man couldn’t hurt her was quickly overshadowed by that and the sense of regret and shame that followed.
With three men down, the rest of the Campbell soldiers were unwilling to take Blaine on. Within moments, they had fled, rushing back into the woods from where they had come. Kathleen saw them from her peripheral vision, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to understand it was all over—nor did she have the capacity to worry that they could come back with reinforcements.
There was blood everywhere. It pooled under the three bodies and the scent of it, metallic and sickening, hung heavy in the air.
Never before had Kathleen seen a single dead body, let alone such carnage. The sight of it brought upon wave after wave of nausea and her stomach threatened to empty itself right then and there. The log fell off her hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud, and she pressed one of them against her mouth, trying to keep herself from vomiting. Cold sweat dripped from her back, her chest. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably and she heaved again and again, desperately trying to look anywhere but at the three bodies.
She drew her gaze to Blaine, who stood above his last victim, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He was covered in blood, drops of it dripping from his hands and his blade. But he was looking straight at her, his expression unreadable .
What was he thinking in that moment? What could a killer like him be thinking after taking three lives?
A logical part of Kathleen’s mind insisted that she should be afraid of him. This was a man who could take a life without even flinching. This was a man with a violent side, someone who was used to this kind of brutality.
And yet she wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, the display of violence had left Kathleen feeling even safer with him. He had proven once and for all that he would never let anyone harm her and wouldn’t hesitate to strike down anyone who dared to try.
And she needed him. As much as she had thought herself capable before leaving Moy Hall, she now had to face the bitter truth; she was not ready for the world that lurked outside the castle walls. She knew nothing of this danger, this violence. She knew nothing about protecting herself from harm and she had been foolish to think none would come to her when she decided to travel all alone.
Kathleen’s ears rang with the rush of blood to her head. Her body, too exhausted and too unstable, finally gave in and her knees buckled under her weight. She never hit the ground, though. Before she could collapse entirely, Blaine was right there, holding her up .
The sob that wrenched itself from Kathleen’s chest surprised even her. It was so sudden, so raw, and only the start of what was to follow. Tears streamed ceaselessly down her cheeks, staining Blaine’s shirt where she laid her head on his shoulder, but he only held her tightly in his arms, refusing to let go even as she tried to pull free, confused by the release of her emotions.
“I dinnae ken why I’m cryin’,” she admitted through heaving sobs. “Why? Why cannae I stop?”
“Ye’re in shock,” Blaine said, softly yet firmly. “It’s alright. Ye’re alright, it’s better tae cry than keep it all inside ye.”
Kathleen could hear Blaine’s voice. She could even understand what he was telling her, but the moment he had stopped talking, she forgot all about it and the confusion returned.
The only thing that kept her sane was the steady pressure of his arms, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Kathleen tried to mimic it at first, but soon found her body refused to cooperate.
“Dinnae fash,” Blaine told her. “I’m here. I’ve got ye.”
And even if only for an instant, Kathleen believed him.