Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
"Mhairi!"
Mhairi's lungs burned as she crashed through the forest, branches whipping at her face and arms. She couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead in the darkness, but she didn’t care. She just had to run, had to get away.
The voice rang out behind her, closer than before. Her heart lurched.
"Mhairi, stop! I'm nae goin' tae hurt ye!"
She pushed harder, ignoring the burn in her legs, the way her torn skirts kept catching on brambles. Her hands—still aching from where the ropes had bitten into her wrists—reached out blindly, using trees to guide her deeper into the darkness.
"Lass, please, ye're goin' tae hurt yerself."
A root caught her foot. She stumbled, barely catching herself against a tree trunk. It was enough.
A hand closed around her arm, pulling her back.
"Nay!" Mhairi spun, her free hand swinging wild. Her fist connected with something—his jaw, she thought—hard enough to send a jolt of pain through her knuckles. "Let me go!"
"I'm tryin' tae help ye."
She twisted in his grip, fierce and desperate. "Let me go!"
Instead of releasing her, he pulled her against his chest, wrapping both arms around her and pinning her arms to her sides.
Mhairi went wild.
"Let me go, let me go, let me go—" The words tumbled out between desperate, panicked breaths. She kicked backward, felt her heel connect with his shin. "I'll kill ye, I swear I'll…"
"I'm nae Ashcombe." His voice was steady, calm, even as she fought like a trapped animal in his arms. "I'm nae goin' tae hurt ye. I just need ye tae stop runnin' before ye break yer neck in this damned forest."
"Why should I believe ye?" But her struggles were slowing. Exhaustion was catching up with her, draining the fight from her limbs. "Why should I believe any man?"
"Because I just risked me life tae get ye away from him." His grip loosened slightly, enough that she could breathe easier, but not enough that she could bolt. "If I wanted tae hurt ye, lass, I'd have let Ashcombe keep ye."
Mhairi went very still at that.
Her heart was still racing, throwing itself against her ribs like it wanted to escape. She could feel his chest against her back, solid and warm. Could feel his breath stirring her hair.
And beneath her fear, beneath her panic—something else. Something that made her aware of how close he was. How strong. How he smelled like pine and leather and the cold night air.
She shoved the thought away viciously.
"Who are ye?" The question came out smaller than she'd intended. The raw panic was fading, leaving behind bone-deep weariness.
"Alpin MacDougal. Laird of Clan MacDougal." He hesitated, then added, "I was at the auction house taenight. I saw what they did tae ye."
The auction. Mhairi's stomach twisted at the memory—the platform, the shouting men, the way they'd looked at her like she was livestock. And... wait.
She'd seen him.
That moment when she'd scanned the crowd, searchin' desperately for anyone who might help. The man near the back with fair hair and broad shoulders, who'd met her eyes with somethin' that looked almost like... recognition. Understanding.
"Ye were there." Her voice came out flat, accusing. "Ye saw them sell me."
"There were too many guards, and I was alone.
" She felt him tense behind her. The words came out bitter, like they tasted foul in his mouth.
"If I'd tried tae fight me way out with ye then, we'd both be dead or worse.
So, I waited. Followed. And when the odds were better…
" he paused. "I did what I should've done from the start. "
Mhairi wanted to rage at him. Wanted to scream that he should've done something, anything, instead of just watchin'. But... he'd come after her. He'd fought Ashcombe and his men. He'd freed her.
"Ye could've just let me go," she said quietly. "Once ye fought him off. Ye didnae have tae follow me intae the forest."
"Aye, I could've." His voice dropped lower, almost gentle. "But ye're alone, in the dark, in a forest ye dinnae ken, with nay supplies and nay weapon. How far did ye think ye'd get before ye either got lost or ran intae someone worse than Ashcombe?"
She flinched at the name and at the truth of his words.
"So, what dae ye want?" The question came out sharp, defensive. Her father had wanted coin. Graham had wanted profit. Ashcombe had wanted... her mind shied away from what Ashcombe had wanted. "Why did ye really come after me?"
His arms loosened—carefully, slowly—enough that she could turn to face him if she wanted.
Mhairi hesitated, then turned. Put a few inches of space between them, though not enough to run. Not yet.
In the moonlight filtering through the trees, she could see him properly for the first time. Tall, broad through the shoulders. Fair hair that looked almost silver in the dim light. And eyes... even in the darkness, she could see they were light. Green, maybe, or grey.
And his face... there was a scar runnin' from his left temple down to his cheek. A warrior's face. Hard. But not cruel.
Not like Ashcombe's.
"I want tae help ye," he said simply. "That's all."
Mhairi's throat tightened. "Men dinnae help women fer naethin'. What's yer price?"
She watched something flicker across his face. Shock, maybe. Or anger. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
"There is nay price."
"Everyone has a price." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very young and very lost. "Me faither certainly did."
His expression darkened. "What dae ye mean?"
The question caught her off guard. "Ye... ye didnae hear? At the auction?"
"I heard the biddin', and I heard that bastard Ashcombe buy ye."
So, he didn’t know. Didn’t know the worst of it.
Mhairi's jaw tightened. She didnae want to say it. Didnae want to speak the words that would make it real. But they came out anyway, bitter and broken.
"Graham... he told me it was me faither who sold me tae him. Fer coin. Tae pay his debts." Her voice cracked.
The look on Alpin's face—pure, savage fury—should've frightened her. Instead, it was almost... comforting. That someone was angry on her behalf. That someone thought what had been done to her was wrong.
"Christ," he breathed. Then, quieter: "I'm sorry, lass."
She didn’t want his pity. Didn’t want his sympathy. She just wanted...
What did she want?
Safety. That's what she wanted. And she had no idea where to find it.
"Ye still need somewhere tae go," Alpin said gently, like he could read her thoughts. "Somewhere safe."
Mhairi let out a bitter laugh. "And I suppose ye have just the place?"
"Aye. MacDougal Castle. It's two days' ride north." He kept his voice even, non-threatening. Kept his distance. "Ye can stay there as long as ye need."
"And then what? Ye'll send word tae me clan?" The clan that had sold her. The father who'd signed the papers.
"Only if ye want me tae." Alpin ran a hand through his hair. "But ye cannae stay out here. It's nae safe."
"And yer castle is?" The words came out sharper than she'd intended. "How dae I ken ye willnae just lock me in a room or turn me into yer slave?"
She watched him carefully, searching for any flicker of deception. Any hint of the same cold calculation she'd seen in Ashcombe's eyes.
But Alpin just met her gaze steady. "Because I give ye me word as a laird and as a MacDougal. Ye'll have yer own room, and if ye want tae leave, ye can leave. Nay one will stop ye."
Mhairi studied him for a long moment. "A room with a door that locks. I need that. I need tae ken that nay one can... that I can keep people out if I want."
"Aye," Alpin said without hesitation. "A room with a proper lock. And ye'll have the only key. I promise ye that."
Mhairi studied him for a long moment. Searching his face for lies. For ulterior motives. For any sign that he was just like all the others.
But all she saw was... earnestness. And beneath it, carefully banked fury—not at her, but at what had been done to her.
"Why?" The question came out barely above a whisper. "Why would ye dae this fer me? Ye dinnae even ken me."
"Because it's the right thing tae dae." His voice was gentle now, almost tender. "And because nay one should have to go through what ye went through tonight."
Something in Mhairi's chest cracked at those words. She'd been holding herself together through sheer force of will—through the auction, through Ashcombe's hands on her, through the desperate flight through the forest. But this... this simple kindness...
She blinked hard against the burn in her eyes. She wouldnae cry. Not in front of him.
"Ye promise?" Her voice came out smaller than she'd like. "Ye promise I can leave if I want?"
"On me honor."
"And ye willnae..." She trailed off, but he seemed to understand what she was asking.
"I willnae touch ye," Alpin said firmly. "Willnae force ye tae dae anything ye dinnae want tae dae. Ye have me word."
Mhairi's shoulders sagged slightly. Some of the tension draining out of her. She was so tired. And she didn’t have any other options.
"I dinnae have much choice, dae I?" she said quietly. "Either I trust ye, or I try tae make it through this forest alone."
"Ye have a choice." Alpin took another step back, putting even more distance between them. Giving her space. "Always. I'm offerin' ye sanctuary, but if ye'd rather I point ye toward the nearest village and give ye coin fer passage, I'll dae that too."
Mhairi blinked, caught off guard. "Ye would?"
"Aye."
"Why?"
"Because ye've had enough people trying tae control ye." His voice came out rougher now, edged with anger. "I'm nae about tae add meself tae that list."
And that... that was what decided it.
Not his promises. Not his offers of safety. But the simple fact that he was giving her a choice. Giving her back the control that had been stripped away from her that night.
Slowly, Mhairi nodded.
"All right." The words were barely a whisper. "I'll come with ye. But if ye try anythin'—anythin'—I'll gut ye in yer sleep."