Chapter 2 #2
He watched her. Watched fear give way to thought, watched thought deepen into understanding.
“So that is why this match was made with such haste,” she breathed.
“Aye.”
“And Hunter…”
“Was chosen because he is softer,” Maxwell said carefully. “Easier to accept. Easier to marry for alliance’s sake.”
Something like hurt flickered across her expression, but not for herself. For Hunter, perhaps.
Then her gaze flicked back to his, slow and steady. “And ye chase me tonight because if I run, it weakens the shield.”
He nodded once. “And I would have been the one to find ye. Well before ye crossed the borders of McIntosh lands. Well before dawn.”
She drew in a long breath, her shoulders squaring. “Then I willnae run.”
Just like that. No drama. No renewed argument. Only a firm, clear decision.
Maxwell blinked. Of all the reactions he had expected, that was not one of them.
He had been wrong about her. Completely.
For the first time since emerging from the shadows, Maxwell found himself at a loss for words.
The lass, Ariella, he reminded himself, stood quiet and resolute before him. Her cloak fluttered slightly in the wind, but her eyes were steady despite the remnants of tears. She looked nothing like the foolish runaway he had accused her of being.
“If me clan and me family’s safety depends on this marriage, then I will do me part.”
The simplicity of it struck him harder than any blade.
Most women, most men, would have cursed, wept, demanded another path. She merely straightened, gathering the torn edges of her dignity, and lifted her chin.
Maxwell cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the pull in his chest. “Good. Then ye understand why this foolishness had to end.”
Her eyebrow arched, faintly mocking despite the gravity of the moment. “Foolishness. Ye mean the part where a lass was left entirely in the dark about her own future.”
He grimaced. She had him there. “Aye. Well, I will speak to Frederick about that.”
That startled her.
“Ye will?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said curtly. “If ye are to wed into me clan, ye should ken the stakes. Secrets daenaehin’ but make chaos.”
She blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. Not the small, polite smile he had seen other women flash at feasts and formal gatherings. But a warm, genuine smile that lit up her face, deepening the little dimples in her cheeks.
Maxwell went very still. Something warm unfurled inside him, deep and unsettling.
“Thank ye,” she murmured. “Truly.”
He swallowed. The simple gratitude settled in him like a stone dropped into deep water. It had been a long time since anyone had thanked him for anything other than shedding blood or making hard decisions.
He looked away first.
“Come,” he muttered. “Ye should be abed, nae wandering the yard like a ghost.”
“I wasnae wandering,” she protested as she fell into step beside him.
“Aye, ye were fleeing.”
“I was considering me options.”
“Ye had none.”
She huffed. “Ye daenae ken that.”
“I ken enough,” he said, glancing down at her. “The road would have eaten ye alive.”
“I am nae as fragile as everyone thinks,” she huffed.
“Aye,” he muttered. “I am beginning to see that.”
She looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. He quickly looked away, feigning interest in the stable roofs and the lantern by the gate.
The silence that followed was not comfortable, nor was it strained. Something hummed in it, something new. Awareness. Caution.
She walked close enough that her cloak brushed his arm. When they reached the steps to the keep, she stopped. He turned to face her.
“Laird,” she said carefully, then cleared her throat and continued, “If I misunderstood ye earlier…”
“Ye didnae,” he assured.
She blinked. “Oh.”
He studied her face, the stubborn set of her chin, the faint redness around her eyes, the quiet strength that had not been visible until she was cornered.
“I shouldnae have spoken so harshly,” he said gruffly.
Her lips parted in surprise. “He apologizes.”
“Daenae look so shocked,” he snapped.
Her mouth twitched, the beginning of another smile threatening. “I only meant it was unexpected.”
He grunted, uncomfortable. “Go inside.”
“Will ye tell Hunter I tried to run?” she asked suddenly.
He stiffened. “I will tell him nothin’.”
“Why nae?”
“Because I want to hear what excuse the daft lad gives for his part in this.”
She tilted her head. “Ye think he encouraged me?”
“I think me braither has a talent for planting foolish ideas,” he said.
Her expression softened. “He did say somethin’. Nae outright, but enough.”
Maxwell cursed under his breath. He would deal with Hunter. Thoroughly.
“But I choose differently now,” Ariella added firmly. “I choose what is needed. Daenae worry, I willnae run again.”
His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “Good.”
Silence fell between them, and he broke it first.
“Get inside before ye catch a chill.”
But when she brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm, heat shot through him like a blade fresh from the forge.
She paused at the door and looked back, her hazel eyes bright, her expression unreadable. “Good night, Maxwell.”
He did not say good night. He only stood there, watching her until she disappeared inside the keep.
Long after the door closed, he remained still as stone, his hands curled at his sides, his heart beating too fast for a woman he had known for less than an hour.