With a quick glance behind him, he was startled to see that the woman was huddled on horseback, hiding her face. Why hadn’t she fled? Didn’t she know that these men would ravage her, taking what they wanted, if she didn’t leave?
The brief flicker in his attention was all it took for one of the men to strike, and Dougal’s jaw snapped backward at the force of the punch. Rage coursed through him, and he unleashed his fury, glorying in the madness of battle rage. His dirks sliced through the air, seeking enemy flesh. He no longer thought about his actions but let himself fall into the familiar blur of fighting.
There was no MacKinloch better with a dirk than he. It was an extension of his hand, a lethal slash that allowed no man to threaten him. Not even this one.
For a moment, the outlaw stood motionless, his body in shock as a thin line of blood appeared across his throat. He stumbled forward before collapsing to his knees.
The other hesitated, and Dougal flipped the dirk in his palm, catching it again. “Are you wanting to join your friends in death?”
It was enough. The man backed away, mounting one of the horses, before he took off in terror. Dougal didn’t bother following him. The MacPherson Clan could easily find the outlaw within a day or two, if he alerted them.
He turned his attention back to the woman, cleaning his blades before sheathing them. She was holding her veil across her face, as if trying to hide from him. Dougal seized the reins of her horse and demanded, “Why in the name of God didn’t you run?”
Because you were the one I wanted to find.
Celeste wanted to bury her face in the veil, anything to keep Dougal from seeing her. Not like this. As soon as he recognized her, he would turn away. She needed more time.
Her heart was thundering in her chest, for she’d never expected to find him so quickly. Of all the men who could have rescued her, why did it have to be him? It was both a blessing and a curse.
The two years had changed him, and he was even more handsome than she remembered. Dark haired with brown eyes, he was a ruthless fighter, lean and powerful. His strong jaw held a hint of stubbornness, and his mouth was tight with anger. But he would be even more angry when he learned that it was her.
His arms were crossed as he regarded her, his brown eyes glaring. “Well?”
She kept her head down, still concealing her face. “I didn’t know where to go,” she admitted. “I—I was hoping to find the MacKinlochs. When I saw you, I thought you could escort me to your clan, since my men…”
Her words trailed off because she didn’t know what to do about the escorts who had died trying to protect her. Inside, she was numb, for none of this had gone the way she’d intended. She’d journeyed northwest with her two guards, believing she could visit the MacKinloch Clan and ask for help.
“Should we bury them?” she asked, glancing behind with her face still veiled.
“The ground is too rocky,” he said. “We’ll burn the bodies, and I’ll take you back home.” He didn’t even glance at her when he began walking up the hillside. Within moments, he returned with a gray mare, the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.
He’d always been good with animals. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they understood him. The urge to touch the mare was irresistible, and Celeste dismounted to move in closer.
“Show me your face,” he commanded.
Though she didn’t want to, there was no choice. He would learn the truth soon enough. Celeste allowed the veil to fall away, afraid of what he would say. Dougal stared at her as if she weren’t there. As if he were dreaming at the sight of her.
To distract herself, she ran her hand over the mare’s head. “She’s lovely.” She caressed the horse’s skin, smiling when the mare nudged her cheek.
“Aye, she is lovely.” Dougal held on to the mare’s reins, running his hand over her creamy mane. Celeste found her attention drawn to those hands, and a sudden ripple of uncertainty slid over her. Those hands had touched her, years ago. A bleakness centered in her heart, reawakening the wounds she’d thought had healed.
“Why did you leave Eiloch?” His voice had turned to ice, in silent rebuke.
“My husband is dead.” She took a step backward, faltering as she considered what she must do. “It’s not safe for Melisandre and me to stay there.” At least, not unless she were pregnant with an heir. Perhaps not even then.
Risking a glance at Dougal, she saw that he’d completely shielded any expression. There was no emotion there, no hint of what he was thinking. Did he despise her so much, even after all this time?
“I need help for both of us,” she admitted. “And… it seems I need an escort, now that my men are dead. I could pay you—” The moment she spoke the words, she realized her mistake.
“I want nothing from you, Celeste. Except, perhaps, to watch you ride away.”
“I can’t return to Eiloch. Not yet,” she argued. Not until she had a means of protecting her sister.
“Then why should I help you?” After you betrayed me, he didn’t say. But she sensed the accusation, nonetheless.
“We were friends, once.” She mounted her horse again, hoping he would accompany her. Instead, he held his ground, watching.
“Were we?” He took the mare and led her up the hillside. Celeste didn’t know if he was guiding her or walking away. She nudged her horse forward, following him. Dougal said nothing, nor did he turn to acknowledge her. There was a faint path etched in the grass that led through the woods. Sunlight slipped through the edges of the leaves, casting shadows over him as he walked. She didn’t know whether he was deliberately taking her into the woods to remind her of the place where they used to meet…or whether it was safer. Celeste gripped the reins hard, trying to blot out the visions of the past.
