Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The necessary arrangements were made quickly, and before Sorcha knew it, she was standing outside with her brother and Rowan, her final moments at Sinclair Castle coming to an end.
She pulled the hood of her cloak up as the sun drew low, bringing with it a brisk wind.
Callan’s expression remained cool as he placed her hand in Rowan’s. His fingers lingered on hers for the smallest moment before he released her, but they exchanged no words of goodbye.
Rowan’s expression mirrored his. Sorcha didn’t expect any less, but still, it stung. One man did not care that she was leaving, while the other did not care that she was going.
Nay one cares.
Rowan wasted no time, lifting her onto his horse without asking permission. Her breath left her sharply as she landed against his chest, his arms sliding around her front to hold the reins.
“Ye’ll sit steady,” he murmured against her ear. “Or ye’ll fall.”
The brush of his voice against her ear sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.
He took off at full speed, not bothering to wait for his men or her carriages. The scenery was painted in blurs of green, the keep growing smaller and smaller too quickly for Sorcha to comprehend.
“Do ye always ride this fast?” she yelled over the wind.
“Aye.”
She waited, thinking he would give her a reason.
He did not.
“Yer lands… are they far from here?”
“Aye.”
Sorcha gripped the saddle. “Ye’re nae much for conversation, are ye?”
A quiet breath brushed her ear, but he did not answer.
So, this is how it will be.
Whether the sting in her eyes was from the wind whipping at her skin or the heaviness tugging at her chest, she did not know. But she could not stop the tears that escaped.
She did not try to speak again. Whatever words she had left felt wasted on the wind.
Her hands grew numb as time went on, a chill spreading through her. Reluctantly, she leaned back against Rowan’s chest, letting the warmth of his arms soothe her.
How unfair that the only comfort I have left is in the arms of a stranger.
She felt his arms tighten slightly around her. Or perhaps it was only the horse shifting beneath them.
Suddenly, a child’s sob pierced the quiet.
Sorcha’s heart clenched, her grip tightening on the saddle. Looking around, she spotted a child in the middle of the field behind the tree line.
“Rowan, stop.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to speak over the wind.
He ignored her.
“Stop!” she cried, twisting in the saddle.
She slipped her foot from the stirrup, her heart pulling her forward, but his grip on her wrist stopped her.
“Sinclair,” he said sharply. “Hold.”
He would leave the child there.
Pulling forward with a jerk, she jumped down before he could protest further. Her boots struck the grass, momentum sending her pitching forward to the ground. Pain shot up her arms as she caught herself on her hands, but she pushed through it, scrambling to her feet.
She heard Rowan call out, hooves pounding the ground farther behind her, but she did not stop. She kept running, practically sliding on her knees when she reached the boy.
He was young, at least seven years old, and his face was stained with tears. His clothes were dirty, his hair unkempt.
How long has he been out here? He must be freezing.
“It’s all right,” she said gently. “Ye’re safe now.”
She moved to unfasten her plaid and wrap it around his shoulders.
“What happened to ye? Are ye lost?”
The boy sniffed loudly, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. His eyes were wide, darting around.
“M-me da… he went to fetch the cart,” he stammered. “He told me to stay here.”
Sorcha glanced toward the road, but there was no cart, only Rowan a few paces away on his horse, watching them. A shiver racked her body as a cold breeze gusted between them.
She looked up at the sky. The sun was going down quickly.
Who would abandon their child like this?
“And how long have ye been waitin’?”
The boy shook his head. “I daenae ken.”
She sighed, standing up and brushing the dirt off her dress. “All is well, wee one. Ye can come with us. Daenae want ye freezin’ out here. We’ll come search for yer da in the mornin’.”
She turned to find Rowan still on his horse, watching them.
He’s probably angry. Well, so am I. Why did he nae listen?
She lifted her hand, about to wave for him to approach, but his expression stopped her. His eyes went wide, before he charged toward her with his horse, yelling, “Run!”
Sorcha turned around quickly to grab the boy, afraid of the danger Rowan had seen. But the boy was not there. Instead, there was a man holding up his sword to strike her.
She staggered backward and fell on her bottom, barely missing the blade. He did not waste time, lifting his sword again. She tried to crawl to her feet, but the pain made it hard to stand.
Damn it!
She rolled to her right, dirt flying as his sword missed her again.
Another shadow emerged from the trees, a second man running in her direction with a mace. The shadow of a sword across her face drew her attention back to her attacker.
Her eyes caught Rowan, coming at full speed.
I daenae think he can make it.
She looked up at her attacker, taking a breath. Her hands were trembling, but she did not dare look away.
“Brave one, are ye?” the attacker sneered, going in for the kill.
But just as he struck down, another sword blocked him, the resounding clash of metal echoing in the air.
Rowan stood there, holding back the attacker with no effort at all. He pushed against him, making him stagger. As he lifted his sword to strike, the second attacker blocked him.
“Sorcha!” Rowan yelled, the anger in his voice making her heart lurch. “Run to the horse!”
Sorcha stumbled as she got up and ran toward his horse. Through sheer willpower, she was able to hoist herself onto the large steed.
She looked back at Rowan to find him fighting left and right. Blocking one way, attacking the other. He was much larger than they were, and yet more agile. She was in awe of him, watching him hold his own.
He glanced at her, just for a moment. And in that split second, the first man swung at him. He dodged the attack but stumbled.
The second man lifted his sword.
Nay!
Sorcha pressed her heels into the horse’s flanks, riding at full speed towards Rowan. She drove the horse into the side of the second man, knocking him to the ground.
Rowan took advantage, about to swing his sword at the first man, but the bastard ran away. Sorcha watched as he ran into the shadows behind the tree line.
“Who are they?”
Rowan walked to the fallen man, using his sword to turn his head from side to side.
“Dead,” he said with a heavy sigh, wiping his blade on the man’s cloak before sliding it back into his sheath.
He leaned over him, checking his pockets, but his hands came up empty.
“Now he cannae tell us anythin’,” he muttered, climbing onto the horse behind her.
Sorcha finally took a moment to get a good look at the dead man. He wore dark, plain clothes with no crests. Bruises were forming where the horse had trampled him.
She hadn’t meant to be so reckless. But when she saw that boy all alone, she did not think.
I daenae regret it. I had to do it.
But the knowledge settled heavy in her chest all the same.
Rowan turned the horse toward the main road and took off at the same speed as before. She glanced up at his face to find he was already looking at her.
Her breath caught.
He looked angry, but there was something else. His eyes lingered on her for the briefest moment before turning away.
“I apologize, me Laird.” Sorcha lowered her gaze, heat rising in her cheeks. “I should have listened.”
He firmly gripped her arm, leaning close enough that his warm breath brushed the back of her neck. “If ye move again without me, lass,” he said quietly, “I’ll tie ye to me side.”
Goosebumps rose all over her skin.
“I saved yer life, ye ken. Ye could be thankful,” Sorcha scoffed, turning her head so he could not catch her flush.
His voice lowered further. “I wouldnae have been in that position if ye listened in the first place.”
She felt frustration rise in her chest, her jaw clenching at his words. “So what? Ye would’ve left the wee one out in the cold? Left him to die? Are ye that heartless?”
She saw his grip tighten on the reins, his muscles flexing. He took a deep breath, his chest meeting her back again, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers.
“Nay, I wouldnae have.” She looked up at him, surprised. Instead of meeting her eyes, he looked straight ahead. “But I would’ve been careful, nae run headfirst into danger.”
Sorcha opened her mouth, ready to fire another sharp reply. But the memory of the blade swinging toward her made the words die in her throat.
If Rowan hadnae reached me in time…
Her throat tightened at the thought.
She turned her eyes back to the road, letting the wind cool her burning cheeks.
And this time, she did not argue.