Something warm unfurled inside him, low and unwelcome.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly. “Truly.”
He swallowed. The simple gratitude settled in him like a stone dropped into deep water. It had been a long time since anyone had thanked him for anything other than shedding blood or making hard decisions.
He looked away first.
“Come,” he muttered. “Ye should be abed, nae wandering the yard like a ghost.”
“I was nae wandering,” she protested as she fell into step beside him.
“Aye, ye were fleeing.”
“I was considering me options.”
“Ye had none.”
She huffed. “Ye daenae ken that.”
“I ken enough,” he said, glancing down at her. “The road would have eaten ye alive.”
“I am nae as fragile as everyone thinks,” she muttered.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “I am beginning to see that.”
She looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. He quickly faced forward again, pretending interest in the stable roofs and the lantern by the gate.
The silence that followed was nae comfortable, but neither was it strained. Something hummed in it, something new. Awareness. Caution.
She walked close enough that her cloak brushed his arm. When they reached the steps of the keep, she stopped. He turned to face her.
“Maxwell,” she began carefully, tasting his name for the first time.
It did something to him, an unfamiliar tightening beneath his ribs.
She cleared her throat. “If I misunderstood ye earlier…”
“Ye did nae,” he said.
She blinked. “Oh.”
He studied her face, the stubborn set of her chin, the faint redness around her eyes, the quiet strength that had nae been visible until she was cornered.
“I should nae have spoken so harshly,” he said gruffly.
Her lips parted in surprise. “He apologizes.”
“Daenae look so shocked,” he snapped.
Her mouth twitched, the beginnings of another smile threatening. “I only meant it was unexpected.”
He grunted, uncomfortable. “Go inside.”
“Will ye tell Hunter I have tried to run?” she asked suddenly.
He stiffened. “I will tell him nothin’.”
“Why nae?”
