Chapter 2 #2
For a heartbeat, the thought was tempting. The fair was bright with laughter, the scent of spiced pies thick in the air, and beside her stood a man whose presence alone steadied her pulse.
But she was not free to linger. Kenina, her only chance at safety, waited at Tor Castle.
To linger now, no matter how handsome the company, was to risk it all.
And beyond that, she knew nothing of him.
He had stepped in when no one else had, true enough, but men who fought well were not always men who meant well. She had learned that lesson too young.
“Thank ye,” she said, lifting her chin though her voice was tight. Pride stiffened her spine as she added, “but I can handle mesel’ fine.”
She did not wait for his answer. She turned on her heel, but the instant her weight shifted, pain lanced up her leg so sharply she gasped aloud.
The world tilted. She stumbled hard, her hand flying to catch the edge of a barrel, breath hissing through her teeth.
The ache in her ankle seared bright, humiliation burning hotter still in her chest.
“Handle yersel’, is it?” His tone was maddeningly mild, far too amused for a man who had just seen her nearly collapse.
She glared. “It’s naught. A twist.”
“A twist that had ye near fallin’ on yer face.” He crouched, already reaching for her hem.
Her heart thudded, heat rising to her cheeks. “What are ye—?!” She slapped at his hand. “Ye cannae just—”
“I can, when ye’re about tae cripple yersel’. Hold still.”
“Ye’re insufferable,” she hissed, though she could not quite pull back, not without looking the coward.
His grin flashed quick, boyish beneath all that muscle. “So, I’ve been told.”
He prodded gently, and though she tried to keep her face composed, a sharp breath hissed between her teeth. His touch was firm but careful, steady as Seoc’s when setting a bone.
“It’s nae broken,” he said at last, glancing up. “Tender, aye, but ye’ll live.”
“I told ye.” She crossed her arms, though her voice lacked its earlier bite.
“Aye, ye did. And if nae fer me, ye’d be limpin’ the streets till nightfall. That’s worth somethin’, lass.” He rose in one fluid motion, broad shadow falling over her again, and offered his hand. His smile tilted, half-charm, half-challenge. “So. Ye’ll share a drink wi’ me.”
Her lips parted to refuse, but her leg throbbed in protest, and truth be told, her heart throbbed worse at the sight of him standing there, golden and solid as the very walls of Inverness. Saints preserve her, she wanted to go.
“Fine,” she muttered, placing her hand in his.
The fair buzzed around them as he guided her toward the square.
Fiddles skirled, children shrieked with laughter, women bartered over bolts of cloth.
And there she was, walking beside a man who looked like he had stepped out of some bard’s song, his stride unhurried, his arm steady near her elbow in case she faltered.
The tavern’s tables spilled out into the street, tankards clattering, voices loud. He secured her a seat beneath a striped awning, ordered ale with the ease of a man used to being heeded, and returned with two frothing mugs.
“Tae freedom,” he said, lifting his tankard.
She blinked at him.
“Ye earned it, did ye nae? Better toast it than waste it.”
Slowly, she raised her mug, the wood cool against her fingers. “Tae freedom,” she echoed, the word sweet on her tongue.
The ale was strong, burning down her throat, loosening the coil in her chest. She dared a glance at him as he drank, head tilted, golden hair spilling loose where the fight had tugged it free.
God above, he was a man who looked as though he had bled and laughed and fought in equal measure, and carried every bit of it in the set of his shoulders.
And he was watching her, hazel eyes bright with something that felt dangerously close to interest.
Her cheeks flamed. She set her mug down hard. “Dae ye always spend yer days rescuin’ strangers?”
“Only the ones worth rescuin’.” His grin was wicked now, curling at one corner.
Heat rushed to her ears. She scoffed, reaching for bravado. “Ye’ve a glib tongue, sir.”
“And ye’ve sharp teeth, Marian Fraser. I’d wager ye bite as quick as ye speak.”
She laughed then, despite herself, the sound surprising her as it slipped free. It had been so long since laughter had come without cost or fear.
They wandered the fair after, drawn into games by his coaxing.
He tossed coins at the knife-throw, sinking every blade dead center with infuriating ease.
She tried her hand, missed twice, then finally struck near the middle.
He cheered her as though she’d bested him, earning her glare and her reluctant smile.
At the ring toss she beat him clean, her aim steady, and he protested so dramatically the onlookers laughed outright. She stuck her chin high, feigning haughtiness, while he bowed with exaggerated grace.
“Ye see? Skill bests brute strength.”
“Or perhaps ye’ve charmed the rings tae obey ye.”
“Perhaps I have.” She let the words slip with a smile she did not mean to give.
As dusk deepened, lanterns lit, their glow softening the fair into something almost dreamlike. Music lilted through the square, couples spinning in dance. Marian stood at the edge, heart aching at the sight of such simple joy. She had not been allowed to dance since she was a girl.
Evander leaned close, his voice brushing her ear. “Dance with me.”
Her pulse leapt. “I cannae,” she whispered, the old fear clamping her chest.
He stepped back, no pressure in his gaze, only that easy smile. “Then watch. But I’ll wager ye’ll wish ye had.”
She watched as another lass laughed and let Evander lead her into the reel. The sight sent a sharp twist through Marian’s chest, though she told herself it was only foolishness. Still, each time he spun the lass, his smile easy and unguarded, her pulse drummed faster.
Before she could stop herself, she moved closer, his name slipping out low, almost grudging. “Evander?”
His brows lifted, that infuriating smile tugging at his lips, but with a courteous word he released the lass and turned to Marian. “Aye, then. Come.”
When his hand closed around hers, steady and warm, the fair seemed to fall away.
He drew her into the music, guiding her through the steps with practiced ease.
At first her body resisted, stiff with jealousy, but the rhythm carried her until her skirts swirled and her laughter broke free despite herself.
His gaze never left hers, hazel eyes alight, as though the crowd and lanterns and music were all for them alone.
Each turn brought her closer, until she could feel the heat of him, the sure press of his hand at her waist, the dangerous tug of wanting more.
Later, as they wandered down a quieter lane strung with lanterns, the laughter and music soft behind them, she felt the pull between them grow taut as a bowstring. His hand brushed hers once, twice, until at last she let her fingers linger.
He stopped, turning to her with a slowness that made her heart falter.
His hazel eyes caught hers, steady and intent, carrying a warmth that burned beneath the surface until she could scarcely stand to look at him.
The noise of the fair seemed to blur, fading into nothing but the space between them.
“Ye’re starin’,” she managed, her voice thinner than she wished.
“Aye,” he said, unrepentant. “Hard thing nae tae, when ye look at me wi’ eyes like that.”
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she scoffed, though the sound trembled. “Ye’re far too sure o’ yersel’, Evander.”
He bent closer, his smile a ghost at the corner of his mouth. “And ye’re far too stubborn tae admit ye want me tae kiss ye.”
Her breath caught, her chest tight with something perilously close to longing. “I never said—”
But her protest broke off as his mouth touched hers, unhurried, giving her every chance to pull away. She did not. Her breath caught, her chest tight with something perilously close to longing, and when his mouth touched hers, the world vanished.
The kiss was gentle at first, testing, as if he feared she might vanish like smoke.
His lips brushed hers warm and sure, tasting of ale and spice and something fiercer still, something that belonged to him alone.
The restraint in him only made her dizzy, because she could feel the strength he held back, the fire caged just beneath the tenderness.
Without meaning to, she leaned into him, her body yielding even as her mind screamed against it. Her heart thundered like a drum in her ribs, wild and ungoverned, every beat a betrayal of the vows she had made to herself. For the first time in longer than she dared recall, she felt wanted.
And then it ended. He drew back, slow as a tide pulling from the shore, and she was left gasping, the world tilting round her as if she had been flung from a great height.
“Nay,” she breathed, voice breaking on the word. Panic crashed hard and cold through her veins, scattering the warmth his lips had lit within her. “This… this was a mistake.”
Before he could speak, she turned and ran, her ankle screaming in protest, her braid coming undone, her breath ragged. She did not look back. If she saw him again, she feared she would not have the strength to leave.