Chapter 7
Skye shifted her weight from foot to foot, watching Evander prepare for their departure. Now that they’d decided to leave, she found herself unable to settle. The lengthening shadows seemed to creep toward her.
Fury tightened her chest.
How dare they? How dare they attack me like this? Who are these people who want me dead, and what on earth did I ever do to them?
There would be no answers, not yet, and frustration coiled in her gut. She raked through her mind, trying desperately to find a clue, to find anything that could explain her predicament. It was so unfair. The answers were in her mind; she was sure of it. She just couldn’t get to them.
The woods around the road, already dark and forbidding, jumped with movement. Or so she thought. Something rustled, and she barely suppressed a terrified yelp before a rabbit poked its head out of the greenery. It inspected them, nose twitching, then dived back to safety once more.
Come on, lass, she scolded herself. Ye arenae so frail and ridiculous as to jump at shadows, are ye?
She forced herself to relax, but it barely worked.
Evander trudged past her, leading two riderless horses by the reins. She realized then that he’d moved all three of his men’s bodies, lining them up in the undergrowth in lieu of a burial.
I could just run, could I nae? Dive into the woods and make a home. They might nae find me. I wouldnae put anyone else in danger.
“Go and take a look at the attackers,” Evander ordered briskly. “See if ye recognize their faces.”
She shivered. “Do I have to?”
He paused, glancing at her. “Ye daenae have to, but I’d rather ye did. If ye ken them, or if their faces trigger a memory, we may find ourselves better off now than we were before. We’ll leave soon.”
“Where are we going?”
“An inn, I told ye.”
She bit her lip, fighting not to roll her eyes. “I meant where.”
“There’s a decent place I ken, midway between here and Inverness.”
She blinked. “We are still going to Inverness?”
Evander grinned, tilting his head. “Of course. Did ye nae want to change out of yer dress? Come, lass, take a look at them. If ye can bear it, of course. If ye cannae, then—”
“I can bear it,” Skye snapped, lifting her chin stubbornly.
So he thought she was weak, did he? Fragile, or even damaged?
I am no such thing. I am the daughter, sister, and cousin of lairds, and me maither is the strongest woman in all of the Highlands. I can do whatever I need to.
Lifting her head until her chin was parallel with the ground, she stormed over to the first body.
This was the first man Evander had killed, pulled over to the opposite side of the road to where the Bryden men lay.
His eyes were glassy, his face blank and blue.
She did not recognize him, no matter how hard she stared.
The next man was a little trickier to see, his head having been severed from his body. She didn’t look very hard this time, just enough to convince herself that he wasn’t a familiar face.
Last of all was the youngest one, the boy. Jim, that was his name, wasn’t it? Skye bit her lower lip until it stung, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
He looks even younger now that he’s dead.
She stared into his empty eyes until her vision blurred.
“Nay,” she said abruptly, turning away. Evander was watching her, his expression neutral. “I daenae recognize any of them. I’m sorry.”
“Daenae apologize. The fault isnae yers.”
She flinched at that and turned away so he couldn’t see the surprise crossing her face.
Nae me fault? Whose fault could it be? I cannae remember a thing. I am useless. Useless.
When she glanced up again, he was watching her with narrowed eyes.
What is it about the wretched man that makes it feel as though he’s staring straight through me head, raking through me thoughts as if he’s reading a book?
Determined not to be cowed, she met his gaze squarely and evenly.
Go on. Speak first. I dare ye.
With a long, ragged sigh, he dropped the horses’ reins and took slow steps toward her. She tensed, and he stopped about three paces away.
“Skye, ye ken that I would never let anyone hurt ye, aye?” he murmured, his voice low and a little tremulous.
No, not tremulous. He wasn’t a man whose voice trembled. Was it uncertainty? No, that didn’t sound right, either. If Evander, Laird Bryden himself, had ever felt uncertain, he wouldn’t let anyone else know about it.
Skye gave up on trying to interpret his emotions and instead shrugged woodenly. “I’m sure that ye wouldnae. But would ye hurt me?”
A flash of surprise and, yes, hurt crossed his face. The expression only lasted for a split second before a cold blankness took its place, a neutral mask coming down over his eyes like a shutter. His arms dropped to his sides.
“Ye think that I had something to do with yer disappearance,” he stated. Not a question. A cool, bland statement.
She forced herself to hold his gaze.
I willnae blink first. I willnae do it.
“It’s easy for ye to kill people,” she responded. She didn’t gesture to the dead men who’d attacked them, including that boy who would never see his twentieth year. She didn’t have to. “Ye hate me clan, so I can safely assume that ye hate me.”
He barked out a laugh. “If ye are talking about how I dispatched the men who would have murdered us, then aye, I did kill them. I am trained in the art of warfare. Just like yer beloved braither, might I add.”
“Daenae ye dare bring Hunter into this,” she hissed. “He’s no killer.”
He laughed again, mockingly this time. “Oh, come on, lass. Ye cannae truly believe that he’s never raised a sword against another. Or… Or do ye believe it? Aye, I think that ye might. Come now, Skye. Ye are cleverer than this.”
She growled. “I’ll say it again. Ye hate me clan. Why would ye want to wed me?”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Ye daenae bloody remember it, I ken, but ye were the one who proposed the marriage! And for what it is worth, I daenae hate yer clan. I have no reason to! Ye are the one who supposedly hates me.”
“Ye took me from me family! Yer faither killed mine!” she burst out, ignoring his point.
She didn’t remember proposing the marriage, and in any case, it would have been easy for him to make it look like her idea. Yes, that seemed most likely, didn’t it?
A memory sparked at the back of her mind, a flint struck in pitch darkness.
“Me guard,” she gasped. “Ye sent away me guard.”
Evander’s jaw tightened, a muscle drumming in his cheek.
“Remembering now, are we?” he asked wearily.
“So ye daenae deny it? Ye sent away me guard, a man that I trusted?”
“He’s nae a man that I trusted,” he scoffed.
Skye bit her lower lip, searching his face for any hint, any clue that he knew more than he was letting on.
“Did ye have anything to do with me kidnapping?” she whispered. “Were ye so repulsed by me that ye couldnae imagine marrying me, but didnae feel as though ye could refuse? Did ye arrange for me to be shipped off on me wedding night? Did ye have a lover? That would explain why ye didnae—”
“Lass, ye are mad as a March hare,” he interrupted wearily. “There’s no lover. Question as many people as ye like once we get back to the keep; they’ll all say the same thing. And by the way, arranging for the disappearance of a woman like ye is a foolish thing.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
He advanced the last few paces between them, towering over her. He stood close enough for her to smell petrichor and grass, nostrils twitching.
“It means,” he whispered, “that I am nae foolish enough to disappear a woman with a laird as a braither and as a cousin. A treaty hinged on yer safety, ye fool. It would have brought two clans to me doorstep in war, and nearly did, by the way. Oh, and one more thing.” He leaned toward her, his lips twitching into a smile.
“If I were to kidnap a person, I’d ensure they werenae found again. ”
“Is that a threat?” she gasped.
He chuckled. “Heavens, nay. If I threatened ye, lass, ye would ken it. Now, which one?”
“Eh?”
He gestured. “The horses. Which one would ye prefer? I’d suggest the red gelding for ye. The sandy mare looks a wee bit spirited.”
Skye bristled. “Actually, the sandy mare looks perfect. I’ll take her.”
He looked as though he were biting back a smile.
“Suit yerself.” He shrugged, turning away. “But either way, we should get going.”
She stared at his broad, impassive back and resisted the urge to snatch up a stone from the ground and throw it at him. She’d probably miss, in any case. Her aim had never been much good.
Grumbling under her breath, she spun around and marched toward the sandy mare. The horse eyed her with vivid dislike and snapped at her hand when she tried to grab the reins.
I might have made a mistake, she thought, swallowing hard.
She could sense Evander’s eyes on her and knew without looking that if she turned around, she would find him watching her with an amused grin. There was no chance, no chance at all, that she would give him that satisfaction.
Gritting her teeth, she jammed her boot into the stirrup and hauled herself up. The mare whinnied in outrage, turning her head and trying to bite Skye’s leg. There was a moment where the two of them grappled for dominance, bucking and shuffling along the road, raising dust.
At long last, Skye won. With a ragged breath, she settled herself in the saddle and tossed back her hair. She caught Evander watching her with a wide, unabashed grin.
There is that crooked canine.
“Well,” she managed breathlessly. “Shall we go, or do ye intend to stand there and stare at me?”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “I am ready when ye are, lass. Ready when ye are.”
The sun was setting by the time they spotted the inn. Evander had told her the name—the unpleasant Gristle-Pig Inn—and she could see a crooked wooden sign hanging by the door, its lettering too faded to read anything. However, the sign was in the shape of a pig, which surely meant something.
“Ye said ye kent this inn?” Skye asked with trepidation, slipping out of her saddle.
“Well enough,” he answered briskly.