Chapter 7 #3
He seemed to understand what she was talking about. “We had no choice.”
“You could have let me speak. I would have offered something else.”
“Such as? Ye’ve no coin. And dinna tell me ye would have given up more jewels, because I’ve already seen ye have none left.”
She flushed. He wasn’t wrong—between the ring, the bracelet, and now the locket, she’d been bleeding her possessions at an alarming rate. Still, hearing it thrown back at her like that didn’t make her feel any better.
“I just thought—”
“That’s the problem,” he cut in, his voice low and edged.
“Ye didnae think. Ye just blundered in. Just like ye did at the inn when ye gave me away to MacInnes’ thugs on the island.
What is wrong with ye, woman? Do ye think this world runs on good deeds and kindness?
It doesnae. It runs on coin and hard steel. The sooner ye learn that, the better.”
Ruby bit her lip, blinking hard against the sudden sting in her eyes. She hated that he could make her feel so hopelessly out of her depth. And worse, she hated that he was right.
She walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the caravan filling the gap between them. “All right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just blundered in here.”
He glanced at her, surprise and amusement flashing in his eyes.
Then it was replaced by something else. “I didnae mean to snap at ye. It’s just that.
..just...” He blew out a breath and then scrubbed a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“I dinna even know what I’m trying to say.
” He turned to her, met her gaze. “But I meant what I said, lass. I will see ye safely to yer cousin.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
His expression softened—just enough that she glimpsed something beneath the swagger and the sharp words. Something almost... warm. But then he looked away again, his voice rough. “Dinna thank me. Ye’ll only regret it.”
She said nothing more, concentrating on keeping up the pace.
The wagons didn’t move quickly but her legs were already beginning to ache.
First there had been the flight from the village and now this trek over rough terrain, but she did her best not to show it.
Even so, every stone seemed to find its way into her boots, and every root seemed determined to trip her.
Evan, damn him, walked easily beside her, as though the long road was nothing more than a stroll to the tavern. His stride was relaxed, hands tucked loosely into his belt, but his eyes never stopped scanning the fields and hedgerows. Always watching. Always wary.
A shout suddenly broke through her thoughts. “Hoi! Ye look exhausted!”
Ruby spotted a woman calling from a wagon up ahead. She reined her horse to a halt and patted the edge of the cart bed. “Hop on. There’s space at the back, and it’s a long road yet.”
Ruby blinked in surprise. The woman looked a little older than herself, with dark hair bound in a thick plait and sharp eyes that missed nothing. What really caught Ruby’s attention, though, was the sword strapped across her back, its hilt worn with use.
“Go on,” Evan said, giving Ruby a crooked smile. “Before ye topple over.”
“I’m not about to topple over,” Ruby said indignantly. Yet she climbed gratefully onto the wagon all the same, settling herself amongst the hessian sacks piled in the back. Evan swung up beside her, settling opposite.
The woman clucked to her horse and the wagon jolted into motion, the rutted track making Ruby clutch the side for balance. The woman glanced over her shoulder at them, her mouth curving in an amused smile.
“Ye have a queer turn to yer speech,” she said to Ruby. “Not Highland. Where are ye from?”
Ruby forced a casual shrug. “Wales. I was born in Cardiff, though I live in Edinburgh now. I’m Ruby. This is Evan.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Evan’s head tilt ever so slightly. His interest was clear, though he didn’t comment, just stretched his legs and leaned back as though he had not a care in the world.
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “Cardiff. Never heard of it. Sounds far.”
“It is,” Ruby said softly, feeling a sudden stab of homesickness. What were her parents doing right now? Her friends? Were they missing her? She tried to turn the conversation away from herself. “And you? I’m surprised to see a woman riding with the caravan. And carrying a sword, no less.”
Her smile widened. “My name is Isla. It’s my da who’s leading this train.
I’m his only child, so I’ve been riding with him since I was small enough to sleep in a flour sack.
And if I want to keep what’s ours safe, I need more than a sharp tongue.
” She tapped the hilt of her sword. “Steel tends to make men listen.”
“I’ll bet it does. Better than pepper spray, eh?”
Isla raised a brow. “Pepper spray?”
Ruby bit her tongue. Damn it. “Er...never mind.”
Evan shifted, the faintest scrape of leather against wood. He hadn’t said a word since they’d climbed aboard, but Ruby could feel him listening. He looked relaxed now, head tilted back, one arm draped over the side of the cart. But Ruby wasn’t fooled.
“So ye are from Cardiff but yer friend clearly isnae,” Isla said, her gaze flicking to Evan. “He has a Scottish accent more refined than I’m used to hearing.”
Evan’s voice cut in, low and even. “Does it matter where I’m from, lass? We’re all on the same road now.” Ruby didn’t miss the warning in his words.
Isla smirked. “Oops. Touchy.”
Evan’s lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile, and Ruby dragged her attention away from him. She looked over the guards that rode the perimeter of their little wagon train, and the way Isla rode with easy confidence.
She sighed. She was safe. For now.