Chapter 10
Megan wondered what would have happened if she’d simply stood there and called his bluff.
Probably nothing good.
She tore through the forest, wet leaves slapping at her face, twigs catching her hem. She knew that the Keep was behind them, to the north, and so she headed north. It might even be quicker to go through the forest instead of following the road.
If I were a fast runner, I could have stuck to the path and simply concentrated on outpacing him. I’m nae confident that I could outpace him, though. He’s a large man, but I feel as though he is deceptively quick.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him scything through the attackers, his sword glinting, quick as a flash.
She wondered briefly if he was cold from the rain, which plastered his shirt to his skin.
That thought sent heat pulsing through her, and she scolded herself, shaking her head.
The last thing she needed was a distraction right now.
She paused in a clearing, tilting her head, and tried her best to listen.
I probably look like a deer at bay, she thought grimly. Like a prey animal.
She could hear no sound of approaching footsteps, no warning rustles or creak of branches pushed aside. Surely a man of Ryder’s size would not move quietly. He would certainly make a noise coming through the forest; of that she was sure.
She headed off again at a run. Not the frantic, headlong dash that had initially propelled her into the forest, but a slower, more controlled jog she was confident she could maintain for a good long while.
Long enough to reach the Keep. As she jogged, Megan hesitantly wondered what Ryder might do to ‘punish’ her once he caught her.
Somehow, the idea that he would hurt her—beat her, tie her up, or something awful—did not occur to her. That is, she did think of it, but dismissed the idea.
He’s nae that kind of man. I cannae say how I ken, but I do ken.
I hope I’m right.
A rustle echoed in the forest somewhere off to her left, and Megan froze, tilting her head, listening. The rustle didn’t come again, but her anxiety did not fade away.
It could have been anything, she reminded herself. A rabbit, a deer… anything. Even water filtering down from the tops of the trees.
The rain seemed lighter inside the forest. It still fell, of course, and the ground was thick and miry, but most of the raindrops were caught up in the trees, preventing them from falling.
The forests, of course, loved the rain. The thick old tree trunks soaked up whatever they could from the ground. The grass and undergrowth glowed a vivid, healthy green, and the clean, earthy smell of petrichor filled Megan’s senses with every breath.
There was something tantalizing, something invigorating about it all.
Her lungs were starting to burn, probably due to her heart hammering wildly in her chest.
It was time to take a break, even if only for a few minutes. She ducked down behind a clump of bushes, crouching low to the soggy ground, and breathed.
The key to pursuit, she knew, was patience. Patience was necessary for the hider and the chaser. She’d learned that long ago, when playing hide and seek with her sisters.
People lost their nerve and bolted out of their safe spots. People also grew impatient and started to make noise, tramping around and shouting out stupid things like, ‘Where are ye?’ as if there was going to be an answer.
You had to be patient. You had to stay still, take stock, and breathe. You had to…
At that moment, a figure stepped out of the bushes, walking noiselessly across the grass, quiet as a ghost.
Megan froze, jaw dropping.
It was him. It was him. He’d even stopped to sling his cloak over his shoulders again!
How did he catch up so quickly? She thought, bewildered. And he made nay noise!
That didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here now. Whatever game they were playing, Megan did not intend to lose. She waited, breathless, until Ryder passed by her and melted into the undergrowth again. He hadn’t even glanced around him, but it was shocking to see how close he was.
I mustnae underestimate him again, she thought grimly.
She waited for a few more minutes to be sure that he was gone and then slipped out of her hiding place.
She had no intention of staying there, or of rushing in panic in the opposite direction.
As carefully and quietly as she could, she slunk over to a large oak tree.
Glancing around once more, Megan began to climb.
She’d always been good at climbing trees.
Long, heavy skirts and damp cloaks made climbing more difficult than was ideal, but she knew what she was doing, at least. Her boots were good and didn’t slip on the mossy bark.
She hauled herself upwards, bit by bit, until she was nestled in a forked bough about halfway up the tree.
The foliage should hide her from anyone looking up from below.
However, she had noticed one thing about people—they always forgot to look up. They tramped through life with their eyes on the road ahead of them, or even fixed on their own feet, and took the sky for granted. She was fairly confident that Ryder wouldn’t spot her.
But then, ye were fairly confident that you’d be able to slip away from him, remember? She reminded herself. Ye must stop underestimatin’ him.
With this cheery thought, she shifted her position. She was already getting uncomfortable, and the rain somehow seemed heavier up here.
In another twenty or thirty minutes, he’ll reach the Keep, she reminded herself. And then he’ll decide that he’s missed me. He’ll be in a temper, nay doubt, but why would he come back this way?
She rested her head against the trunk and closed her eyes, letting time drift by. That was what she needed—time. Time to straighten up her head and forget about how Ryder made her feel. It was just a reflex, nothing else. Nothing to worry about.
When about ten minutes had gone by, she felt the familiar twinge of impatience.
Maybe I should move trees, she considered. To throw off the trail, if he does somehow track me down.
Holding her breath, she pulled aside a leafy branch and peered down into the clearing below. It was empty. Nothing moved. It was safe for now, then.
She began her descent as carefully as she could, feeling with her feet for the next branch down. Already, she was mapping out in her head where she would go next, and how long she would wait. Once she was sure that Ryder wasn’t coming back, she would…
It was the wrong branch. When Megan put her weight on it, the branch cracked audibly. Stretched out as she was, Megan lost her grip on the branch above and fell.
She didn’t scream, which was a good thing, but she did gasp, the air rushing out of her lungs. With about ten feet to go, she shouldn’t break anything, but…
She landed squarely in a pair of strong arms, bouncing against a broad, warm chest.
Megan knew at once who was holding her. She blinked, staring up at him, and Ryder grinned down at her.
“There ye are,” he said cheerily. “It’s a good thing that I am here, eh?”
She squeaked and struggled, kicking and flailing to free herself. She managed to get her feet on the ground, but he caught her up again neatly, pulling her against him. Somehow, her legs tangled around his, and both of them went tumbling to the ground.
He landed on top of her, of course. Ryder somehow managed to prop himself up on his elbows so that his weight didn’t fully crush her, but her breath was entirely pushed out of her body.
The world seemed to stop around them. Megan stared up at him, eyes wide, and found that she was unable to manage a single word. This was not how she’d imagined the little game going.
He stared down at her, and she wondered whether he could feel the strange, powerful prickling in her chest. Was it only her feeling? Did he feel nothing?
He never had any inclination to wed before. Everybody says so. Perhaps he doesnae feel the same urges as others.
No, that didn’t seem right. That wasn’t right at all. The shiver rolled up her spine again, and she swallowed thickly, pressing her hands against his shoulders.
“I cannae breathe,” Megan gasped, voice hushed.
He moved at once, lifting his weight from her, but did not climb off her.
Instead, he seized her around the waist and managed to roll the two of them over, so that he was on his back and Megan straddled him.
She gave an involuntary gasp, thighs pressed tight against his sides, his hands warm on her waist. He was so warm underneath her that it made her shiver.
“How about now?” Ryder inquired, flashing a grin. “Can ye breathe now?”
She cleared her throat. “Aye. That’s… that’s better.”
They looked at each other warily, like a pair of duelers, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
At least, that was how Megan felt. Ryder was looking up at her with a narrow, almost predatory glint in his eyes.
His ribcage rose and fell with his breath, pressing firm against the insides of her thighs.
It was like sitting on a horse, only… well, entirely different in so many ways.
She imagined the movement one would make with their hips if one was riding, and cleared her throat uncomfortably.
There was something like an ache forming in her gut, something that was probably best left unnamed.
Ryder watched her with a faint grin on his face, as if he knew what she was thinking.
She didn’t think that he felt out of control at all.
“Well, then,” he said at last, breaking the silence. Around them, the susurrus of rain pattering through the foliage echoed. “I win, it seems.”
“Aye,” Megan muttered, with a bad grace. There were no claims she could make of cheating or an unfair advantage. She was the one who’d wasted her head start, and he’d caught her, fair and square.
“Will ye disobey me again?” he whispered, voice harsh.
She lifted her chin. “I probably will, aye.”