Chapter 5 #2
She was still reeling from his words when he leaned forward abruptly, putting his face far too close to hers. Or perhaps it simply felt too close.
“Shall I tell ye that we spent hot, passionate summer nights in bed together, sheets twined around us, as eager as a pair of young lovers?” he whispered, his voice dropping to a deep, husky growl. “Would ye believe me if I said that?”
Her mouth had gone dry again.
“Shall I tell ye that ye begged me to marry ye? Would ye believe that?”
“Nay,” Skye managed. “I wouldnae. I would never beg a man for anything. Besides, ours was a political alliance, was it nae?”
“Aye, it was,” he responded, his voice returning to normal.
“Ye are a sensible and logical woman, and ye quickly saw that our marriage would do good for our respective clans, and beyond that, for the Highlands. Ye decided that we would marry soon, instead of waiting for the betrothal period to elapse. Ye said—and I quote ye word for word here—that anything could happen, and we had better nae wait. Because after all, tomorrow isnae promised to us.”
His face changed, and he glanced away abruptly. “Ye were right about that, as it turns out. When ye vanished on our wedding night, I wondered if ye had ken something of what was ahead.”
“Well, I didnae,” she uttered. “Nae as far as I ken, at least.”
He nodded. “I am only thinking out loud. And daenae fret, lass. We spent very little time together before we were wed. Certainly nothing untoward happened.”
She shifted again, clearing her throat. “Aye, well, I should hope so.”
“Ye daenae need to hope. I am assuring ye of it.”
He watched her thoughtfully. She made herself stare back, meeting his gaze squarely.
What is he thinking? Is he thinking about me? That seems like a decent guess. And if so, am I a problem to be solved, or only a curiosity?
No answer presented itself. He just kept watching.
The space between them seemed to constrict. He hadn’t so much as shifted his legs, but suddenly she found that the curve of his ankle pressed against the toe of her boot. The point of contact seemed to generate heat, despite the fact that two layers of leather separated them.
Flinching, she dragged her feet away.
His lips twitched again, as if longing to draw up into a smile.
He has a crooked canine tooth, her memory volunteered, sudden and powerful enough to make her flinch. The right one. Ye will see it when he smiles wide.
She gave her head a tiny shake. If her memories were coming back, then surely that was a good thing? Surely the rest would follow.
If it’s a good thing, then why am I nervous? Why is me heart fluttering like a bird in a cage?
No answer presented itself.
She cleared her throat—it would be raw at this rate—and racked her brain for something, anything to say to break the taut silence.
She’d just hit on a decent subject—the weather and the likelihood of rain in the next few days—when the litter jolted and began to slow down.
Evander frowned, his eyes sharpening. He rose to his feet. Well, he half rose to his feet because the litter was not tall enough to let him stand to his full height. He wobbled over her, one hand braced against the wall, and knocked on the ceiling.
“Angus?” he called. “What is it? Why are we slowing down?”
“Thought I saw something, me Laird,” came the muffled reply. “Movement in the trees. The darkness is already spreading there.”
Evander scowled. “So much for getting back to the keep before dark,” he muttered. Aloud, he called, “What do yer instincts tell ye, Angus?”
“I daenae ken. I daenae feel at ease.”
“Very well. I’ll come out and see what there is to see.”
Skye flinched. “What? Ye are leaving?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Earlier, ye couldnae stand the thought of sharing the litter with me, and now ye daenae want me to leave it? Ye gods, lass, ye are easy to win over.”
She reddened. “I daenae like yer teasing.”
“Ye never did,” he responded simply, then reached for the door.
At that moment, as silence rushed in, Skye heard a strange, sharp noise. A sort of whoosh, followed by a minute thunk and a short, sharp intake of breath. The sound was oddly familiar and sent nausea running up her throat.
Evander’s eyes widened.
“Angus,” he breathed, throwing open the door.
At that moment, Skye understood what the noise was. It was the sound of an arrow cutting through the air and thudding into flesh.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Evander let out a nasty curse, flinging himself out of the litter. Light rushed in, revealing just how dark the interior had been.
Flinching, Skye lifted her hand to shield her eyes, which adjusted to the new light just in time to see a heavy body drop like a weight past the open door, a feathered arrow protruding from the figure’s chest.
“He’s hurt!” she cried, clambering toward the door.
She wasn’t a healer, not really, but both she and Hunter were reasonably skilled in the art. It came in handy, after all. However, an arrow could be fatal if it were dirty or pierced the wrong place. If she could just get to the man and take a look—
“Nay!” Evander shouted, holding up his hand. He was already looking at something else beyond the litter, something in front of the road. “Stay inside, lass. I mean it.”
She clenched her jaw. “I daenae care to be locked up in a box, cowering, while others fight over me,” she snapped. “Step aside. I’m coming out.”
She didn’t wait for him to move. Instead, she scrambled out of the litter and into the open air.
And promptly saw an arrow flying toward her face.