Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The path from the castle curved gently downward before disappearing into the shadow of the forest. Morning had fully broken, though the sun still sat low above the hills. The horse moved at an easy pace beneath them, while hooves were striking the packed earth with a steady, rhythmic sound.
Duncan held the reins loosely, guiding the animal along the narrow trail, and trying very hard not to think about the woman sitting in front of him.
It was not going well.
Elaina was sitting straight in the saddle, despite the uneven path. Each time the horse shifted beneath them, the movement carried faintly through her body into his.
This had been a mistake…a very obvious mistake.
She was sitting close enough that he could smell her.
Rosemary. Always rosemary.
The scent drifted back toward him with every small movement of the horse, subtle but impossible to ignore. His gaze dropped for the briefest moment. The morning light had caught the edge of her hair again, making her dark-blonde strands shimmer faintly as they brushed against her shoulder.
Duncan dragged his attention back to the trail ahead.
Focus.
It should not have been difficult. He had ridden with soldiers pressed shoulder to shoulder for days on end during campaigns. He had shared saddles before when situations demanded it.
But none of those rides had involved Elaina. None of them had carried the quiet awareness that seemed to hum constantly between them now.
He shifted slightly in the saddle, and immediately regretted it, because the movement only made him more aware of the warmth of her body so close to his.
Duncan exhaled slowly through his nose.
This is absurd.
He was a grown man, a laird responsible for an entire clan. And yet his thoughts were behaving like those of a restless boy. Worse still, his body was beginning to betray him in ways he had not anticipated.
He cursed quietly under his breath. The last thing he needed was for her to notice how strongly she affected him. She sat so close that he could only hope the shifting of the horse concealed the evidence of his discomfort. Because if she realized…
Duncan tightened the grip on the reins.
The leather creaked faintly beneath his fingers as the horse continued along the narrow forest path. Sunlight flickered through the branches above them, scattering pale gold across the ground.
He forced his attention forward.
Trees. Trail. Focus.
Then Elaina suddenly leaned forward slightly in the saddle.
“Please, stop over there.”
Duncan blinked. “Where?”
She lifted one hand, pointing toward a small clearing just ahead where an old hawthorn tree leaned slightly over the path. Its twisted branches were dotted with delicate white blossoms, some already drifting to the forest floor in soft petals.
“There,” she said. “By that tree.”
Duncan did not ask questions.
“Gladly,” he muttered under his breath.
He guided the horse off the path and brought it to a halt beneath the hawthorn’s spreading branches.
For a brief moment he simply sat there, silently thanking every benevolent force in the Highlands for the interruption.
Then he swung down from the saddle in one smooth movement.
The moment his boots touched the ground he felt an immediate, profound sense of relief.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders once as if shaking off tension.
“Elaina,” he said, turning back toward the horse.
She had already shifted slightly in the saddle, preparing to dismount. He stepped forward automatically, reaching up to steady her.
“Careful.”
His hands settled lightly at her waist as she slid down from the horse.
For a brief moment, her weight rested against him before her boots touched the soft forest floor.
He released her at once. On her part, Elaina barely seemed to notice the moment of contact.
Her attention had already turned toward the hawthorn tree.
“How lovely,” she murmured, moving toward it.
The branches hung low, heavy with small white blossoms that carried a faint, sweet fragrance in the warm morning air.
“These are perfect.”
Duncan folded his arms loosely as he watched her step closer to the tree, studying the flowers with the same quiet concentration she had shown while grinding herbs the day before.
“Hawthorn,” she said thoughtfully. “The blossoms are useful for calming the heart and easing certain fevers.”
Duncan leaned one shoulder against the horse’s flank and watched her move beneath the low branches of the tree.
The morning light gently played with the leaves, scattering across her hair and shoulders as she reached upward toward one of the clusters of white blossoms. Her fingers brushed the petals, but the branch sat just beyond her reach.
She stretched slightly higher, rising onto the tips of her boots, but it was still too far.
Duncan was watching with growing amusement as she attempted again. The branch swayed gently above her hand, utterly indifferent to her efforts.
“Dae ye need help?” he asked.
Without turning, she answered at once. “Nay, thank ye.”
She shifted her position beneath the tree, eyeing the branches for another cluster that might hang lower. Duncan raised an eyebrow.
“Are ye certain?”
Elaina nodded absently, still studying the blossoms.
“I’ll manage.”
She reached again. The flowers remained stubbornly out of reach.
“We must gather them early,” she added, still not looking at him. “Before the sun grows too strong.”
Duncan bit back a smile. The branch wobbled slightly as she made another attempt. He pushed himself away from the horse.
“Well,” he said lightly, “if we wait fer ye tae reach them, we may be here until nightfall.”
She turned then, fixing him with a narrow look.
“I had nearly reached them.”
“Nearly is nae the same as actually,” he pointed out with a smirk.
Elaina made another determined attempt, stretching toward the blossoms with stubborn persistence.
Her fingers brushed the lowest cluster for a brief moment, but then the branch swayed back again, just out of reach.
Duncan folded his arms, watching her struggle with growing amusement.
She shifted her footing, rose onto her toes again, and reached higher. Still nothing.
For a moment he let it continue. Not out of cruelty, though he suspected she might accuse him of that, but because the sight of her determination was strangely captivating. Then, he approached her.
“Stand still,” he said.
Elaina did not turn. “I am perfectly capable—”
Duncan stepped behind her. Then, without further warning, he placed his hands firmly around her waist. Her reaction was immediate. Her entire body went rigid.
“What on earth—”
The protest cut off in a startled gasp, because Duncan had already lifted her, quite effortlessly so. One moment she had been standing on the forest floor, the next she was suddenly several feet higher, the world shifting beneath her as he swung her up toward the low branch of the hawthorn.
“Reach,” he said calmly.
For a heartbeat Elaina simply stared in stunned silence. Then instinct took over.
“Och…”
She grabbed the nearest cluster of blossoms at once, plucking them quickly before the branch could sway again. A second cluster followed, then a third, her fingers moving hastily now, as though she feared he might lower her at any moment.
“That should be enough,” she said breathlessly.
“Good.”
Duncan lowered her carefully back to the ground.
Her boots touched the forest floor again with a soft thud.
For a breathless moment, she did not move.
Then she turned to face him. Her eyes were wide.
Her cheeks had flushed a deep, unmistakable shade of pink, and her nostrils flared slightly as she drew in a sharp breath. She looked thoroughly flustered.
And Duncan found, rather inconveniently, that she had never looked lovelier.
She stared up at him.
“Ye could have warned me,” she said at last.
Duncan’s mouth curved slowly. “And miss the surprise?”
Elaina opened her mouth, clearly ready to deliver a very sharp reply. But the words never quite came. Now that she stood in front of him again, far too close, he felt the same pull he had been fighting all morning return with renewed strength.
He had held her only moments ago. His hands had closed around her waist so easily, lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all. He could still feel the warmth of her through the fabric of her gown and the quick intake of her breath when the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.
And to his own surprise, he wanted to touch her again. The realization struck him like cold water.
Duncan went very still. His gaze dropped briefly to the hawthorn blossoms in her hands, to the soft white petals she had gathered, before returning to her face.
For one dangerous moment he considered reaching out, just to brush away one of the petals caught in the fabric of her sleeve, just to feel…
Nay.
Duncan stepped back. The movement was abrupt enough that Elaina blinked in surprise. He turned slightly away from her, dragging a hand across the back of his neck as he forced himself to breathe steadily again.
The forest seemed suddenly very quiet around them. A distant bird called somewhere deeper among the trees, and the horse shifted softly behind him.
Without quite meaning to, the words slipped out.
“Me maither loved fresh flowers.”
Elaina didn’t say anything. Duncan did not look at her as he continued.
“She used tae keep them in every room of the castle.” His voice had lowered slightly now. “Wildflowers, mostly. Whatever grew nearby.”
He glanced briefly toward the hawthorn tree.
“Hawthorn sometimes. Heather when it was in bloom.”
Elaina listened without interrupting.
“I used tae gather them fer her,” he revealed. “When I was younger.”
The memory surfaced with surprising clarity: the early mornings, the damp grass beneath his boots, his mother’s laughter when he returned with his arms full of uneven, tangled bouquets.
“She always pretended they were the finest flowers she had ever seen.”
A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“She had a remarkable talent fer that.”
“She sounds like a kind woman,” Elaina spoke softly.
Duncan nodded once. “She was.”
A brief silence settled between them. The breeze stirred through the hawthorn branches above, sending a few pale petals drifting slowly toward the forest floor. Somewhere deeper among the trees a bird called once, sharp and distant, before the woods grew quiet again.
Duncan expected the moment to pass. Instead, Elaina lowered her gaze to the small cluster of blossoms still in her hands.
“Me maither died as well,” she confessed quietly.
Duncan looked at her. The words had been spoken simply, without ceremony, yet something in her voice made them feel heavier.
“She died some years ago,” Elaina continued, her fingers turning the delicate hawthorn stem absentmindedly. “And afterward… the world felt different.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Emptier.”
He understood that feeling too well, the way a place could remain the same, with the same walls, the same rooms and the same people moving through their daily routines, and yet everything within it felt altered beyond recognition.
Duncan cleared his throat softly. “Aye.”
The single word carried more understanding than explanation.
Another petal fell between them. He glanced briefly toward the path where the forest opened back toward the castle.
He regretted opening up, thinking he had made a mistake, that he had somehow burdened her with more sorrow, and she already had enough of her own.
“The sun will climb soon,” he told her.
Elaina looked up. “And the herbs?”
“Ye gathered enough.”
She watched him for a moment, as though sensing the change in his mood. Then she nodded.
Duncan stepped toward the horse, resting one hand against the saddle.
“We should return,” he said.
The words came gently, but there was a quiet finality to them, because suddenly the morning felt heavier than it had when they first rode into the woods, and Duncan was no longer certain he trusted himself to remain there much longer.