“Five minutes,” he repeated slowly.
Greer could almost see the fantasies his mind spun. “Would three suit you better? I’m sure other girls would be much easier to track, if you think me too much of a challenge.” She nodded toward the group of girls still watching them.
“Five is fine. Make it ten,” he said with gallant loftiness.
“Ten, then.”
“And when I win?” Lachlan asked, lowering his voice with suggestion. “When I catch my prize, what shall she give me?”
Greer leaned in, lowering her voice. “Anything you like.”
His breath caught; his pupils dilated. “Anything?”
“I’d head outside and start the counting if I were you.”
He was gone in a clattering of eager footsteps.
Greer turned and spotted a pair of women watching the scene play out with narrowed, disapproving eyes.
“So much goodness,” the older one said with atsk,“wasted on such a girl.”
Greer longed to throw a pithy retort back at the sour-faced widow, but the clock had begun, and she could feel every passing second. Ducking from their glares, she slipped to the back of the barn and lost herself in the maze of tack rooms and equipment storage. All she wanted was to find Ellis and pull him away from the festivities.
As if he were summoned by her thoughts, she heard Ellis’s voice call through the noise of the gathering, as clear as a bell, as unmissable as the Bellows: “Greer.”
She turned, thinking he must be behind her, but the corridor was empty.
“Come find me,” he continued, and a flush of warmth rushed over her.
They’d played this game throughout childhood, wasting away summer afternoons in sun-dappled meadows. Ellis would hide within the tall grasses and wildflowers and whisper to her, knowing she could hear his every word. Knowing she would always follow after him.
Greer loved that her peculiarity, her ability to hear far and wide, was never a source of bewilderment for Ellis. He never thought it odd, never found frustration with it. He embraced the quirk as readily as any of Greer’s attributes, the color of her eyes, the freckles across her face.
Greer searched the stalls and birthing pens, but they were empty, save for piles of fresh straw and a trio of children playing their own hide-and-seek. She peeked in room after room, mindful of each minute Lachlan was counting.
“Wrong level,” Ellis whispered.
She looked up, grinning. Heaps of feed bags and hay bales were stored in the upper loft. He must have hidden away in their shadows, watching her progress. Greer found the loft ladder and began climbing. After hoisting herself onto the platform, she pulled the wooden frame up, too, which would stop Lachlan from following after.
Satisfied, she wiped her hands, surveying the shadows surrounding her.
Bales of straw were arranged in towering stacks, turning the loft into a miniature maze. She cocked her head, listening, but the only thing that caught her attention was Lachlan at the fire circle, chatting with friends.
“Where are you off to?” Greer thought it was Callum Cairn who spoke.
“Tired of wasting the night with you lot. I’ve already found my girl. Might as well go and claim her now. Who needs to wait for the Hunt?”
“Charming,” Greer muttered.
The boys hooted with delight. “Who? Who is it?”
“Mackenzie’s daughter.”
Noises of surprise and disgust followed, each a tiny twist in Greer’s heart.
“Greer?” Stephen McNaleigh asked. “She’s completely crazy! My old man said she’s got the Devil himself whispering his secrets to her.”
“So? She’s Mackenzie’s only child,” Lachlan explained. “She’ll inherit everything he’s got. The farm. The mill. All that money.”
