Chapter 14
If there was one thing Rhea was always ready for, it was a horse race. She had been more than happy to race him the last time they had been out there together, and now it was no different.
She knew this path well, though Callum seemed to know it, too. It was a long one, leading to the nearest village, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was where he was taking her. But he still hadn’t given her a single clue about their destination, and she knew better than to ask now.
Sooner or later, it would be revealed to her.
She didn’t wait for his signal before she urged her horse to go faster, laughing as her mare leapt down the path. Behind her, Callum’s curse echoed in the woods around them, a brief moment of silence following it before his horse thundered down the path.
Soon, he was right behind her. It was no wonder. His horse was fast, fearless, though he didn’t seem quite as gentle as hers, quite as steady on his feet. Callum had traded security and predictability for raw power and speed, and now he would pay for it.
Rhea could see him out of the corner of her eye, a blur of dark brown and green as he whizzed past her. Still, he was close, the two of them riding almost side by side down the path. Only this time, they did so while galloping at full speed.
“Come, lassie,” Rhea urged her mare, holding tightly onto the reins as she steered her. “Let us show them what we can do.”
It was as if the beast could hear her, as if she, too, wanted to prove herself. She sped down the path, going faster and faster, pushing herself to catch up to Slàinte.
Rhea laughed, the sound soon fading in the wind. All she could hear was the whistling of it, the sound deafening along with the thunder of hooves. All she could see was the bend in the path, where they would either stop or continue, the definitive moment of the entire race.
If she could overtake him there, if she could move just a little bit faster around the corner, then she was bound to win.
She kept checking up on Callum out of the corner of her eye, making sure he was still next to her.
He seemed more carefree now, his face more open, his expression more relaxed, as if this race was enough to take some of the burden off his shoulders.
It was so unlike him that she almost wanted to let him win just to see what he would be like.
Would he be happy? Would he be excited? Would he laugh?
Had she ever heard him laugh?
She couldn’t remember. But as much as she wanted to see what would happen if he won, she also wanted to win. She wanted to prove herself to him, to show him that she was just as good as he was, that she was capable.
Many men had underestimated her throughout the years, and she had made sure to become so skillful in the same things they were so that they would never doubt her again.
And though Callum didn’t seem to doubt her, especially when it came to her riding skills, she wanted to prove to him once and for all that she had nothing to envy men who rode just as well as she did.
They were so close to the bend now that Rhea could almost taste victory, their horses chest to chest as they were about to turn. But just as she sped past Callum, fearless in the way she hurried and balanced herself, he suddenly disappeared.
A thud followed, along with a groan of pain.
Rhea brought her horse to a sudden halt. Her heart racing in her chest, she turned her horse around to find Callum on the ground, writhing in pain as his horse lingered nearby. His saddle had fallen off, lying on the ground behind him.
Her heart leapt to her throat as she jumped off her horse and rushed to him, falling to her knees on the ground next to him.
Her hands hovered over his body, uncertain of what to do.
If he had broken a bone or several, then there would be no moving him out of there, not on her own.
And if he had broken his neck, then there was nothing she could do for him.
“Callum!” she cried, her hands landing on his chest, checking for any signs of serious injury. “Speak to me… Speak to me, are ye hurt?”
“Nay,” Callum wheezed, slowly breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I’m fine.”
“Ye daenae look fine,” Rhea pointed out. “Ye daenae sound fine.”
“I’m fine,” Callum insisted, pushing himself up on his forearms with a wince. “Truly, lass, I’m fine. It just knocked the wind out of me.”
That much was obvious, as he was desperately trying to catch his breath.
Ever so slowly, he managed to move and even stand on his own, and that gave Rhea some reassurance that he was indeed fine.
“Did ye hit yer head?” she asked. “I didnae… I didnae see what happened.”
“I was lucky,” Callum said. “Managed to land on me arm. But me arm isnae so lucky.”
Pulling up his sleeve, he revealed a bruise that was already forming on his right forearm—a nasty purple that would take a long time to fade. But at least the bone wasn’t broken and his head hadn’t suffered in the fall. With time, he would heal.
“Can ye walk?” Rhea asked.
Callum nodded as he hobbled over to the saddle.
Rhea followed him, her hands held out to steady him, though he didn’t seem to need it. When he crouched down next to the saddle, she did the same, her gaze tracking his fingers as they brushed over the leather straps.
“Here,” he said, picking up a piece of torn leather. “This is the culprit.”
“What is that?” Rhea asked with a frown as she leaned a little closer, trying to get a better look.
“Torn strap,” Callum said. Then he fell silent for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of the torn piece. “Nay, it wasnae torn. It was cut.”
It was indeed too clean a tear to be accidental, as if someone had deliberately cut the strap to cause this accident.
Laird Barclay… he must be the one behind this.
If the dark frown on Callum’s face was any indication, he had reached the same conclusion and was already thinking about that damned war of his.
In order to distract him, Rhea moved a little closer, laying a hand on his left arm. “Are ye certain ye’re nae hurt?” she asked, anything to take his mind off war. “Let me see.”
As she spoke, she lifted her hands to his shoulders, gently pressing and prodding them.
When he didn’t make a sound or a grimace, she continued to search him for injuries, her hands moving gently down his chest, over his back, down his arms. He only winced when she reached his ribs and his right forearm, and she knew he was injured there more than he wanted to admit.
Her hands lingered on him, and that alone was enough to bring a faint flush to her cheeks.
She could feel every muscle under his jacket and shirt, his shoulders and chest bulging with every movement, his body rigid and hard under her fingers.
He was like a statue carved from marble, just as solid, just as impenetrable.
She flattened her hands against his chest and pressed slightly, waiting for something even she couldn’t name.
Then she pulled back, lest she be tempted to do something foolish.
As she turned away and walked back to her horse, she heard Callum clear his throat and follow her after picking up his saddle.
“Should we head back?” she asked, concerned for his well-being.
“Nay,” he said, much to her surprise. “I’m fine. We should keep goin’.”
“But Callum… ye’re hurt,” she pointed out, turning around to face him.
He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he insisted.
Rhea wondered if there was any point in arguing with him, but in the end, she decided it was better to let him do as he pleased.
He was injured, but it was also clearly not bad enough to stop him.
He could walk on his own, he hadn’t hit his head, and though he seemed to have a little trouble walking, he didn’t wince with every step.
“Well, how will ye ride without a saddle?” she asked.
“I can ride without a saddle,” he scoffed. “What do ye take me for?”
“A man who is used to saddles,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It cannae be easy for ye. When was the last time ye did it?”
He thought for a little too long before responding. “A while. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“It’ll be harder now that ye’re hurt,” she argued. “Come, ye can share mine.”
He let out a soft snort of amusement and disbelief. “Yers.”
“Aye,” she said. “Why is it so strange?”
“Ye willnae be comfortable. I’m a large man.”
“Ye willnae be comfortable without the saddle,” she pointed out. “And it’s more than likely that Slàinte willnae be comfortable with ye on his back.”
That gave Callum pause, then he sighed.
“Fine,” he relented. “But I’ll steer.”
“Be me guest.” Rhea climbed back up on her mare.
Callum gathered Slàinte’s reins and draped the saddle over his back, then mounted behind her. Suddenly, she was entirely too aware of how close he was.
She said nothing as he nudged her mare into motion, riding slowly down the path with Slàinte following them. And yet every step had his chest brushing against her back, driving her crazy with every passing moment.
Rhea hadn’t accounted for this. She hadn’t accounted for how maddening it would be to have him behind her, to have his arms around her as he held the reins. Warmth pooled deep in her core, her face flushing despite the breeze, her heart beating like a drum against her ribs.
She had brought this upon herself, but how could she have known?
She had never felt like this before. Even when Callum had kissed her, it had been different.
The contact had been intense, much more so than this, but it had been brief both times.
Now, it was a prolonged torture, one that seemed to have no end when all was said and done.
It was as if something was building inside her, a strange pressure that she needed to direct somewhere but didn’t know where. The path was long, forcing her to stay between Callum’s arms, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same thing.
If he was, he was good at hiding it.
Rhea spent the rest of the ride in silence, and so did Callum, though that was hardly a surprise from him. She had come to find out that if he didn’t need to talk, then he wouldn’t. She had to be the one to initiate a conversation with him most of the time.
And yet now she found herself unable to say a single word, too busy thinking about this lingering, smoldering lust to come up with a neutral topic. Awkward as it was, she didn’t trust her voice. She didn’t trust herself not to say something foolish, either.
By the time they reached their destination, Rhea had almost been driven mad by the gentle brush of his arms against hers, by the heat of his chest against her back. She barely noticed when he brought her mare to a halt, but once he was off the saddle, the relief she felt was immediate.
Strangely, a sense of loss followed.
“We’re here,” Callum announced.
Rhea snapped herself back to the present, taking in her surroundings. They were in a clearing, and in the middle of it was a loch, its blue waters sparkling under the morning light.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the water. It was a mirror to the sky above, its surface calm and still. She slid off the saddle and approached the bank slowly as Callum tethered the horses to a nearby tree where they could graze.
“It’s so bonnie,” she said.
It was truly a stunning view, from the blue water to the tall, green, swaying trees that surrounded it; from the clear blue sky above to the weeds that grew around the bank, reaching for water.
“It is,” Callum agreed as he joined her by the water, staring off into the distance. “I thought ye may like it.”
“I do,” she assured him. She could hardly believe that he thought of this, let alone that he took her there.
Perhaps Lara had been right. Perhaps she was too harsh on him.
“Come.” He offered her his hand.
This time, Rhea took it, allowing him to lead her a little further down the bank, where the ground was firmer and less muddy. He seemed to know the place well. Likely he had spent plenty of time there.
Rhea couldn’t help but wonder if she was the first person he had brought there.
She couldn’t help but wish she was.