Chapter 12
Evan didn’t look back as the last light from the merchant caravan vanished into the dark behind them. He’d made enough mistakes for one night—lingering on this moor with Ruby Douglas wasn’t going to be another.
The air had the bite of the season’s change, sharp enough to keep a man awake but gentle enough that the breath didn’t smoke in front of him. Far off, an owl hooted. The moors had gone lonely again, as they always did on nights like this.
Ruby walked beside him, her cloak drawn tight around her shoulders. She kept stumbling over the rough terrain but made not a word of complaint.
Of course she didn’t. She was the most determined woman he’d met in a long time. And—if he was being honest with himself—possibly one of the bravest. Brave or reckless. The line between them was thin, and he wasn’t certain which side she walked.
They reached a patch of uneven stone, half-hidden by the grass. Ruby’s boot caught on it and she pitched forward with a gasp. Evan reacted instinctively. His hand shot out, catching her elbow and steadying her.
He matched her pace, and they moved in silence for a while, the dark pressing close. She slipped on a patch of mud, but this time caught herself before he had to intervene. The tense set of her shoulders said she was annoyed with him.
He could hardly blame her. After all, she was in this situation because of him. Because of his secrets.
And yet, hadn’t he tried to do the right thing? Hadn’t he tried to leave her behind with the merchant train where she would be safe? Was it his fault she insisted on following him?
No, it wasn’t. He didn’t owe her anything. So why did her anger at him scald like a burn mark against his skin?
They crested a shallow ridge, and the world beyond revealed itself in a stretch of rolling heather under the moonlight.
Wind swept across the plain, bending the grasses into rippling sheets.
The night had a strange kind of beauty to it—lonely, wild, fierce.
The kind of place a person could vanish into if they wanted.
Ruby halted and looked out.
Evan should’ve been studying the land, searching for tracks, enemies. Instead, he found himself studying her.
She turned her head to look at him. “What?”
He blinked, unsettled at being caught staring. “Nothing. I was just wondering how ye’ve managed to get so far without falling flat on yer arse.”
To his surprise, a laugh burst out of her. “And I was wondering how somebody with such a glib tongue has gotten so far without getting a punch on the nose.”
He grinned and spread his hands wide. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
She snorted. The tension between them eased, and Evan was surprised by how relieved he was by that. A few paces away lay a tumble of fallen stones, half-covered in moss.
“We’ll rest here,” he said. “For a few minutes.”
Ruby didn’t argue. She lowered herself onto the stones with a sigh of gratitude, rubbing her calves.
He leaned against a taller stone opposite her, arms folded, watching the horizon. There was nothing out there but darkness and wind. Good. That meant they hadn’t been followed—yet.
Ruby spoke suddenly. “So. Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell ye what?”
“You know exactly what. Why these people who are after you are so determined that they’d chase you across a moor. Why they’d risk attacking an armed convoy. Why they keep saying you have noble blood.”
He shrugged. “Folk think they ken more about me than they do.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He growled in exasperation. “Does it matter? Lots of people have been after me at some time or another. Some want coin. Some want revenge. Some just want to see me hang. Ye might have noticed that I’ve a gift for inspiring strong feelings.”
“Evan, that’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
She climbed to her feet and faced him. “Who are you, really?”
He shook his head. “Why do ye need to know? What would ye do with the truth if ye had it?”
The question surprised her. “I...um...I don’t know. Plan. Prepare.”
“Run?” he asked quietly. “I’m not the only one hiding pieces of themselves. Or running from something.”
She crossed her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think ye know. Ye keep wanting to know my secrets, but ye havenae told me one thing about yerself. Who are ye really, Ruby Douglas? And where are ye really from?”
Her nostrils flared, and even in the gloom he saw two spots of color bloom on her cheeks. “I told ye. I’m from Cardiff but now I live in—”
“Edinburgh, I know,” he finished for her. “But I know a lie when I hear it. Or at least, an evasion of the truth. Ye dinna talk about yer life. Ye talk around it. Same as me. People who are content... they dinna do that.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. She was quiet for a minute before she murmured, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He exhaled slowly. “Then it seems we make a fine pair.”
She looked away, jaw tense, and he felt a sting of guilt. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could leave his mouth, the wind shifted, bringing a sound to him across the heather.
Hoofbeats.
“Down!” he hissed.
He grabbed Ruby’s hand, pulling her into the deeper shadow by the pile of stones. The hoofbeats grew louder.
Ruby pressed against him, breath shallow, her shoulder touching his chest. He felt the tremor of her breathing, the quickness of her pulse, the grip of her fingers curled unconsciously into his sleeve.
In the distance, two riders crested the ridge, their silhouettes sharp against the moonlight. MacInnes’ men. They scanned the moor, swinging lantern casting jagged slivers of golden light in all directions.
Evan lowered his head until his cheek brushed Ruby’s temple. “Keep still,” he murmured. “They canna see us.”
The riders lingered a moment. Then, as quickly as they’d come, they rode on, disappearing over the far rise. Evan waited until the last hoofbeat had faded, and only then did he relax.
Ruby didn’t move away. Neither did he. There was not even a hand’s width between them, and her face was so close he could feel her breath against his cheek.
His eyes fell to the exquisite bow shape of her lips.
For one agonizing heartbeat, he wanted to kiss her.
The pull was so strong that he felt himself beginning to move before he was able to take hold of himself.
Pulling in a breath, he climbed to his feet, shaken by more than just the sight of MacInnes’ men. What was wrong with him? He held out a hand to help Ruby up.
He pulled her to her feet and she looked up at him, her eyes like silver pools under the moonlight. “Evan, I—”
“Let’s get going.”
He marched off and she followed, neither of them speaking. At least she no longer plagued him with questions. Perhaps she was scared of the answers.
By the time they reached the sheltered dale where he’d planned to camp, the moon had dipped low, not long from setting.
There had been no more sign of MacInnes’ men, for which he was grateful.
He led Ruby into the narrow valley, all but invisible from above, and to a shallow cave that he’d used many times when needing to disappear for a while.
Once he’d checked it was empty, he busied himself with building a fire.
He felt Ruby’s eyes on him as he worked, but she said not a word. Soon he had a fire crackling in the hollow, chasing away the dark. Yet the fire had nothing to do with why heat curled through his blood.
And that wasn’t safe for either of them.
RUBY EDGED A LITTLE closer to the fire, stretching her hands toward the wavering orange flames.
The cave felt damp and cold, the stone beneath her thin blanket unforgiving. Outside, the wind moved across the moors with a lonely whistle that slipped through the cave mouth and curled around her ankles. She shivered and hunched closer to the crackling flames.
What a day.
Since leaving Isla, Duncan, and the merchant caravan, they’d trudged mile after mile across rough ground, her boots soaked through from crossing streams and the muscles in her legs aching with every step. Why had she followed Evan? Why hadn’t she stayed with the wagons?
She closed her eyes and pictured the caravan. The laughter. The warm glow of lanterns inside the canvas tents. Isla’s cheerful chatter.
Ruby sighed softly. She could almost feel the thick wool blankets, warm and heavy over her as she shared a tent with Isla.
And the wagon—dear God, the wagon. She hadn’t realized how much she appreciated being carried along instead of walking until she’d spent the night scrambling over heather and stones.
Maybe she had been an idiot. Maybe she should have stayed with the merchants. Continued south in relative comfort. Chasing after Evan Campbell now seemed like an idiotic choice.
Then she glanced across the cave. Evan sat near the entrance, half in shadow, sharpening a knife with slow, careful strokes. The firelight flickered across his face, catching the strong line of his jaw and the thoughtful crease between his brows.
He looked tired but alert. Always watching. Ruby studied him quietly for a moment. And just like that, the doubt melted away. No. She hadn’t made a mistake. Something deep inside her knew that she’d made the right choice in coming with him.
Her gaze lingered on him as she thought about their conversation earlier.
Who are you, Ruby?
The question had caught her completely off guard. And the way he’d looked at her—sharp, searching, almost accusing.
You’re keeping secrets.
She swallowed. Several times during that conversation the truth had nearly spilled out. The words had hovered on the edge of her tongue.
I’m from the future. I came through a portal. I’m not supposed to be here.
But every time the same thought had stopped her—he wouldn’t believe her. Or worse—he would. And if he did...everything would change.
So she had deflected instead, offering half answers and vague explanations that had clearly satisfied neither of them. Ruby drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.