He watched her. Watched fear give way to thought, thought deepen into understanding.
“So that is why,” she breathed. “Why this match was made. Why the haste.”
“Aye.”
“And Hunter…”
“Was chosen because he is softer,” Maxwell said carefully. “Easier to accept. Easier to marry for alliance’s sake.”
Something like hurt flickered over her expression, but not for herself. For Hunter, perhaps.
Then her gaze came back to his, slow and steady. “And ye chase me tonight because if I run, it weakens the shield.”
He nodded once.
She drew in a long breath, shoulders straightening. “Then I will nae run.”
Just like that.
No dramatics. No renewed argument.
Only a firm, clear decision.
Maxwell blinked. Of all the reactions he had expected, fear, panic, outrage, that was nae one.
He had been wrong about her.
Completely.
For the first time since stepping from the shadows, Maxwell found himself at a loss for words.
The lass, Ariella, he reminded himself, stood quiet and resolute before him. Her cloak trembled slightly in the wind, but her eyes were steady despite the remnants of tears. She looked nothing like the foolish runaway he had accused her of being.
“I will nae flee,” she said again, softer this time. “If me clan’s safety depends upon this marriage, then I will do me part.”
The simplicity of it struck him harder than any blade.
Most women, most men, would have cursed, wept, demanded another path. She merely straightened herself, gathering the torn edges of her dignity, and lifted her chin.
He had misjudged her. Badly.
Maxwell cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the pull in his chest. “Good. Then ye understand why this foolishness had to end.”
Her brow arched, faintly mocking despite the seriousness of the moment. “Foolishness. Ye mean the part where a lass was left entirely in the dark about her own future.”
He grimaced. She had him there. “Aye. Well. I will speak to Frederick about that.”
That startled her.
“Ye will,” she asked.
“Aye,” he said curtly. “If ye are to wed into me clan, ye should ken the stakes. Secrets do nothin’ but make chaos.”
She blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
Not the small, polite smile he had seen at feasts and formal gatherings from other women. A warm, genuine smile that lit her face from within, deepening the little dimples in her cheeks.
Maxwell went very still.
