Chapter Eleven
Alex raced over the moors astride her large, white stallion with her tunic pushed high past her knees.
The wind blasted her face, driving back her hair into a tangled white-gold banner.
A smile, wide and jubilant, stretched her lips as freedom’s intoxicating potency gripped her innately restless being—which she suppressed for the sake of duty, title, and for the people she loved.
For at her core, her very heart, she was as wild as the wolf that prowled the night, racing over the moors to satisfy its animal desires.
Only during a mission could she release and satiate her true nature.
What’s more, after the shock of meeting her unexpected, not to mention, oblivious suitors, it felt rapturous to be outside the walls of Luthmore, far from the confines of her looming and life-altering choice.
She glanced back at Rory whose face mirrored her own fervor for the ride.
He smiled, bent low over his black mare, giving chase after her horse just for the simple thrill of it.
Locking eyes, they both laughed, allowing the exhilaration of their pace and the bright warmth of the day to be their masters.
More than that, the excitement of the mission coursed through her veins, and well she knew it lit a fire within him too.
Agents were inherently reckless. That was their one absolute commonality—that and their unyielding loyalty to Scotland.
She drove her heels into her horse’s flanks and raced toward the distant coastline.
Salt imbued the air. She inhaled the scent.
The gently sloping moors gave way to increasingly rough and pointed swells, like rocky waves churning a verdant sea.
And then the green was gone, leaving only jagged rocks that clustered together forming teeming cliffs, beyond which hid the gray-blue water.
“Whoa,” she said, bringing her horse to an abrupt halt at the very edge where terrain met air.
Rory eased his horse alongside hers. “Ye were right. I needed that.”
She laughed, her face flushed and vibrant from the exercise. He leaned toward her in his saddle and swept tangled flaxen strands of soft hair from her eyes.
“I’m good at guessing people’s needs,” she said. Then she turned away, nudging her horse forward to walk alongside the cliff edge. “Follow me, but don’t look down.”
Not heeding her own advice, Alex leaned over to peek at the churning waves crashing against the sheer rock face. She leaned farther still. Then a flash of silver caught his eye. His hand shot out, but it was too late.
“My necklace,” she said, clutching her bare throat.
He swung down from his horse and peered over the edge.
Her necklace had landed on a wide, flat rock protruding several feet down the side of the cliff.
Without hesitation, he crouched on his heels and lowered himself over the edge, his fingers straining to hold his weight.
Ridges in the wall allowed the narrowest shelf for his toes.
He tightened his core, climbing down until he was alongside the necklace.
Releasing one hand, his fingers snaked out, snagging the chain before quickly returning to grip the wall.
He looked up to find her peering down at him.
She stared hard, her body unmoving. He grunted, pulling himself up, all the while his eyes never leaving hers.
He found the surface and hauled himself to the top, every muscle in his body straining against the constant downward force.
A moment later he stood, hands on his knees, catching his breath.
“What were ye thinking?” she demanded.
He ignored her question and removed her charm from the silver chain, which he stashed in his saddlebag for safe keeping.
Then he reached behind his own neck and untied the strip of leather he wore, from which hung a small, silver cross.
He added her charm to the strip before turning to face her.
“May I?” he said gently. Her eyes flashed at him; clearly an admonishment sat just on the tip of her tongue, but she refrained and turned her back to him.
Warmth flooded up her spine as once more she felt his fingertips brush her skin.
His hot breath fell on her neck while he tied the string with her beloved trinity knot now nestled beside his silver cross.
She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him, the heat of his body pressed so closely to hers.
“Ye’re a reckless knave,” she whispered, a languid feeling claiming her limbs as she leaned into him.
“Ye just risked yer life for my necklace.”
“Nay,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her skin. “I just risked my life for ye.”
“Ye’re mad is what ye are.” She cleared her throat, trying once again to focus on anything other than her pounding heart. Stepping away, she turned and faced him. “I am grateful. It was a gift from my mother and is sacred to me. Still, it is not worth yer life.
He shrugged. “I’ve climbed many cliffs.”
“But ye could’ve died.”
“I do not fear death,” he said simply.
“If ye do not fear death, then what do ye fear?”
“My own cowardice.”
She grabbed the reins of her horse and started to walk along the cliff edge, puzzling over his words.
When he joined her, she said, “Ye mean to say ye’re afraid of being afraid?”
He nodded.
“That’s all?”
Again, he nodded.
Alex shook her head. “I’m not certain I understand.”
She saw a slight smile curve his lips just before he shifted his gaze and looked forward.
When he spoke next, his voice was unhurried and intimate like an old friend’s.
“When I was seven years old, I started working the docks with my da. As ships came into port us wee lads would unload the smaller cargo. One time, this lad, Henry, and I grabbed a crate too large for our scrawny arms and dropped it, shattering whatever was inside. A man as big as a giant with cruel eyes grabbed Henry by the back of his tunic and tossed him off the ship, but he couldn’t swim.
His screams reached my ears. I wanted to jump in after him, but the man grabbed my face hard between his hands and bent at the waist, sneering at me.
A red, puckered scar ran down his cheek.
It turned white when he laughed in my face.
After what seemed like an eternity, he let me go.
I was free, but I stood frozen. I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded as I looked into his bloodshot eyes.
‘Aren’t ye going to save yer friend?’ he said and pulled back his fist to hit me.
My senses returned just in time to dodge the blow.
I darted through his legs, then overboard after Henry.
I reached him, but I wasn’t strong enough pull him to the docks.
I could barely keep his head afloat and nearly drowned myself for trying.
Then suddenly, my da was there and another man, and they pulled Henry and me to safety. ”
“Did Henry survive?” she asked.
“Aye, though he never went near water again.”
She stopped, turning to face him. “Ye saved him though, keeping his head afloat while ye waited for help.”
He looked down into her eyes. “After the man released me, for moments, breaths, I just stood there—tethered to nothing but my own fear. I vowed that day never to allow fear to be my guide again. If I am afraid, that is when I act the fastest. When fear strikes me, I hear that man’s laughter in my head.
I smell his breath.” Rory shrugged. “Some have called me reckless; I say I’m breaking free. ”
She smiled then. “I believe I called ye a reckless knave.”
“Reckless to be sure, but a knave?” He slowly shook his head, drawing closer.
“I think ye’ll discover that I’m gentle,” he said, his soft voice like a whispered caress.
“A good man.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb outlining her bottom lip.
She closed her eyes against the sweet ache of his touch.
Clenching her fists, she dug her fingernails into her palms as she fought to regain control over her racing heart.
“Anyway,” she said briskly while she moved out of reach, “yer fear saved yer life. For had ye leapt into the water sooner, yer da may not have gotten to ye in time, and both of ye would have died. Then where would that leave me?”
Smiling, he reached for her hand and pulled her back, wrapping his arm around her waist. Lightning bolts of desire shot through her. His lips were so close to hers. “Ye tell me,” he rasped. “Where would ye be without me?”
She wanted to kiss him. With her every thought, every breath, with every beat of her heart, she wanted to kiss him.
But she couldn’t.
She had to remember that her people came first.
“I...I wouldn’t have my necklace,” she stammered as she gently pushed against his chest and stepped free from his arms.
Grasping her horse’s reins, she started forward.
The land had begun to change, the cliffs slowly subsiding into green earth once more.
Trudging carefully down the steep slope, she stopped near the water where a narrow pass hugged the coastline.
It felt cooler by the sea. She inhaled the crisp air, inviting its calming effect.
With her mind clear, she could focus once again on the mission ahead.
Reaching into one of her saddlebags, she grabbed a fistful of oats and offered the snack to Rory’s mare.
“Tether her to one of those rocks,” she said, pointing to a series of protruding stones. “And ride with me. She’ll only be in the way.”
Rory looked unconcerned. “She’s a brave horse and takes direction. Do not worry about her.”
“Trust me,” Alex said, lifting her tunic high and pulling herself into the saddle. Then she slid forward to allow Rory room to swing up behind her.
Rory frowned for a moment, confused about why he would have to leave his mare, but then he drank in the sight of Alex pressed against the front of her saddle, her tangled, flaxen hair, cascading down her back.