“I am sure ye did,” he murmured, unimpressed. “But whether they were good ones remains to be seen.”
She took a step back. He took two forward. Her fingers twitched, clearly readying to bolt.
Maxwell sighed inwardly. Of all the messes Hunter could make, sending him a runaway bride on the very night of their betrothal was perhaps the most predictable.
“I daenae ken what me braither said to ye,” he said. “But ye are his intended. Yet here ye are, scurrying about like a frightened rabbit.”
“Daenae call me that,” she snapped.
“A frightened rabbit?”
“I did nae ask or wish to be any man’s intended.”
“Ahh… I see. Well, that makes the two of ye, then, I suppose,” he muttered.
Her eyes flashed at that. “If yer braither does nae wish to marry me, then I fail to see the problem.”
“The problem,” Maxwell growled, “is that yer safety becomes me responsibility the moment he takes yer hand. Running into the dark like this... it’s senseless.”
“I am nae yer responsibility,” she cut in.
He arched a brow. “Nae yet, perhaps. But ye will be.”
She bristled. “I have nay intention of marrying a man who does nae wish to marry me.”
“Then why leave without speaking to Frederick,” he asked. “Or to yer maither. Or even to me.”
“Because none of ye would let me go,” she bit out. “I wanted…” She stopped suddenly and clamped her mouth shut.
Freedom.Choice.He saw it clearly in her eyes.
Maxwell exhaled, irritation prickling. “Running solves nothin’, lass. Ye daenae even have a plan.”
“I do,” she insisted.
“Oh aye,” he said dryly. “Let me guess. Run until ye reach the border, then hope the wind carries ye the rest of the way?”
Her cheeks flushed a furious pink. “I would have figured out the rest.”
“Aye. When? Before or after the wolves found ye.”
She drew herself up, small but fierce. “Ye assume I am helpless.”
“I assume ye are ill-prepared.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. “Ye have nay weapon. Ye have nay horse. And I doubt ye have ever spent a night alone on the road.”
“I could learn,” she said, though her voice held a betraying tremor. “I could defend meself.”
Maxwell let out a humorless breath. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
He studied her for a long moment. Stubborn. Reckless. Fire wrapped in softness. Not at all what he had expected Hunter’s bride to be. And far more trouble.
“Very well,” he said suddenly.
She blinked. “What.”
“If ye can prove ye can protect yerself, I will let ye walk right out that gate.”
