Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Kenneth Elloway's jaw clenched as he rode through the moonlit Highlands, the silent lass before him a stark contrast to the thundering hooves beneath them.
Mason's cruelty gnawed at him – how could he do this to his own sister?
Yet, a part of Kenneth savored the quiet, a rare respite from his chaotic life.
He glanced down at Sophie, asleep against his chest. A protective instinct flared, along with an unexpected spark of desire.
Kenneth shoved the feeling aside, remembering his promise to Colette.
Still, he couldn't ignore Sophie's presence, her body a tempting warmth against his chest. The softness of her hair tickled his chin, carrying the faint scent of lavender that stirred something primal within him.
His eyes traced the elegant curve of her neck, exposed in sleep, and he found himself wondering how it would feel beneath his lips. The gentle rise and fall of her breath sent shivers through him, each inhale pressing her closer, molding her form to his.
Kenneth's hands tightened on the reins, knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself from exploring the enticing curves barely hidden beneath her cloak. He swallowed hard, his body thrumming with an awareness that both thrilled and terrified him.
As they crested a hill, the Highlands sprawled before them, bathed in ethereal moonlight. Sophie stirred, her breath catching at the sight.
"It's... it's beautiful," she whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse.
Shock hit Kenneth first, unable to keep the surprise off of his face as he looked down at Sophie.
From what Colette had told him, she didn't speak.
He forced a nod, despite the fact she couldn't see him.
"Aye, it is." He found himself seeing the familiar landscape anew, marveling at the play of light and shadow across the moors.
Sophie's hand came up, gripping his forearm. The touch, even through his leather gauntlet, sent a jolt through him. "I cannae believe I'm actually outside. After so long..."
Her voice trailed off, but the floodgates had opened. Suddenly, words poured from her like water from a spring, as if all the thoughts and observations she'd kept locked away for a year were determined to escape at once.
"Do ye think the stars look different here than they did from me window?
Oh! Look at that cluster there! It reminds me of a story I once read about a princess who was turned into a constellation by a jealous god.
Have ye ever heard that tale? Nay? Well, let me tell ye, it's quite fascinatin'.
Ye see, the princess was renowned for her beauty, and. .."
On and on she went, her voice growing stronger with each passing moment.
She wove from one topic to another with dizzying speed – from ancient myths to the types of flowers she hoped to see, to wondering about the customs of his clan.
Kenneth found himself torn between amusement and irritation.
Part of him was relieved to hear her speak, to know that her spirit hadn't been entirely crushed by her ordeal.
Another part longed for the peaceful quiet of earlier.
"...and of course, I'll need to find a husband soon.
Colette said ye'd help with that. Do ye have anyone in mind?
Not that I'm picky, mind ye, but I'd prefer someone who can read.
Oh! And who likes dogs. Do ye like dogs, Laird MacAdams?
I've always wanted one, but Mason never allowed it.
He said they were dirty beasts, but I think he just dinnae like anythin' that might bring joy to others. .."
Kenneth's head was spinning. It was as if she was trying to make up for a year of silence in a single night. "Lass," he growled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, "I appreciate that ye've found yer voice again, but could we perhaps enjoy a moment of quiet?"
Sophie twisted in the saddle to look up at him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief in the moonlight. "Quiet? After a year of silence? I think nae, me laird. I have far too much to say and far too little time to say it."
Kenneth sighed, exasperation warring with a grudging admiration for her spirit. "I assure ye, we have plenty of time. There's nay need to say everythin' at once."
"Och, but there is!" Sophie insisted, her voice taking on a hint of desperation that made Kenneth's heart clench. "What if I wake up on the morrow and find this all a fever dream? What if me voice deserts me again? Nay, I must gab while I can, even if it fair vexes ye."
"It does vex me," Kenneth muttered, but there was no real heat in his words. Despite himself', he found her blather oddly endearing. It reminded him of the bubbling burns that crisscrossed his lands – constant, energetic, and somehow soothing' in its own way.
They continued on, Sophie's endless stream of words punctuated by Kenneth's occasional grunts and half-hearted attempts at silence.
"Tell me about yer clan, Laird MacAdams," Sophie chirped, her curiosity seemingly insatiable. "Are yer traditions very different from ours?"
Kenneth sighed. "Aye, I suppose they are. We're kenned for our strength in battle and our loyalty to kin."
"Och, that sounds fascinatin'! Do ye have any special ceremonies? We have a bonnie harvest festival where—"
"We've our own ways," Kenneth interrupted gruffly.
Undeterred, Sophie pressed on. "And what of yer family? Do ye have any siblings?"
Kenneth's jaw tightened. "Just the one. Me sister, Arabella."
"Only one? How bonnie! I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. Is she older or younger? What's she like? Does she—"
"Younger," Kenneth cut in. "And entirely too nosy for her own good. Much like someone else I could name."
Sophie laughed, the sound bright in the night air. "I'll take that as a compliment, me laird. Now, what about marriage customs? In our clan, we have this tradition where the bride must—"
"I think that's enough questions for now, lass," Kenneth said, his tone brooking no argument.
But Sophie was not so easily silenced. "Oh, but there's so much more I want to ken! Like, how do ye choose yer warriors? And what about—"
"Silence, lass!" Kenneth snarled, his patience finally snapping. His voice was low and dangerous, carrying the weight of a man accustomed to instant obedience. "Yer endless prattlin' is drivin' me mad. Hold yer tongue or I'll find a way to still it for ye."
The moment the words left his mouth, Kenneth felt a wave of shame wash over him. He saw Sophie flinch, her body tensing against him, and he cursed himself inwardly. He was no better than her brother, threatening a lass who'd already suffered so much.
The silence that followed was heavy and oppressive, no longer the peaceful quiet he'd craved.
Kenneth swallowed hard, tasting bitterness and regret.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words stuck in his throat.
Instead, he tightened his arm around Sophie, hoping the gesture might convey what he couldn't bring himself to say.
The silence only lasted for a few moments; it was clear that Kenneth's influence only had so much hold over the spritely woman.
"Silence?" Sophie echoed, as if the word were foreign to her.
"But there's so much to talk about! For instance, I've always wondered about Highland music.
Do ye play any instruments? I once tried to learn the harp, but—"
Kenneth groaned inwardly, realizing this was a battle he was unlikely to win. Despite his irritation, he found himself impressed by her quick mind and genuine curiosity. Her questions, while numerous, were thoughtful and showed a keen interest in his people and their ways.
"Very well," he conceded. "I'll answer three more questions. Choose them wisely."
Sophie's face lit up with delight. "Oh, thank ye! Now, let me think..."
'Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she turned to Kenneth. "I've always wondered, how do ye track a criminal through the wilderness? Is it true ye can tell where they've been just by lookin' at broken twigs and disturbed leaves?"
Kenneth felt a flicker of surprise at her genuine interest. Despite his resolve to remain distant, he found himself drawn into the conversation. "Aye, it's true. But it's more than just twigs and leaves. Ye have to read the whole story the land tells ye."
Sophie leaned forward, eager for more. "What do ye mean by that?"
"Well," Kenneth began, his voice taking on a teacher's cadence, "ye look for things out of place. A snapped branch at shoulder height, grass bent in an unnatural direction, even the absence of morning dew where someone's passed. It's about seeing the forest as a whole, not just individual signs."
"That's fascinatin'," Sophie breathed. "Have ye ever tracked someone for days?"
Kenneth nodded, surprised to find himself enjoying her enthusiasm. "Once, aye. A cattle thief who thought he could outsmart us by crossin' a river. But he dinnae count on the mud he tracked onto the rocks on the other side."
"How clever!" Sophie exclaimed. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she asked, "Do ye think ye could track me if I tried to hide in the forest?"
For a moment, Kenneth allowed himself to imagine it – Sophie darting through the trees, him in hot pursuit, the thrill of the chase. He quickly shook off the thought, but not before a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Aye, lass," he said softly. "I daenae think there's anywhere ye could hide that I wouldnae find ye."
By the time they reached the waiting carriage, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
Kenneth's head was pounding from the constant chatter, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
There was something refreshing about Sophie's unguarded enthusiasm, so different from the calculating politics he usually dealt with.