She'd curledin on herself as much as his hold would allow, making herself smaller. One of her hands had come up to press against her mouth, as if trying to hold back sobs that wanted to escape.
The soundof her muffled crying was worse than if she'd wailed.
But he toldhimself he didn't care. Told himself her grief was irrelevant, that she'd get over it eventually.
But his armstightened around her anyway, pulling her more securely against his chest in what could almost be mistaken for comfort if he were the kind of man who offered such things.
Just to keepye stable on the horse.
Just to makesure she didn't fall.
The lietasted bitter on his tongue. He knew they were still alive. But Ewan swallowed it down and rode harder into the night, trying to outrun the uncomfortable realization that the woman in his arms might be far more complicated than he'd bargained for.
And far more dangerousto his carefully controlled heart than any enemy he'd ever faced.
Behind them,Castle MacMahon burned.
5
"Where are ye takin' me?"
Maia's voicewas hoarse from crying, but steady now. She'd been silent for what felt like hours, her body rigid against the stranger's chest as they rode through the darkness. But the tears had finally stopped, leaving her hollow and exhausted and strangely numb.
Mollie was probably gone.Dead. Burned alive because Maia's uncle had done something to anger this man, and now her only friend in the world had paid the price.
The grief wasa stone in her chest, heavy and cold, but she couldn't let it consume her. Not now. Not when she needed to understand what was happening, where she was going, what this man intended to do with her.
"Ye'll find out soon enough."His voice rumbled through his chest and into her back, deep and uncompromising.
Maia twisted slightly,trying to see his face in the darkness. "That's nae an answer."
"It'sthe only one ye're gettin', lass."
She bit back a sharp retort.Antagonizing her captor probably wasn't the wisest course of action, especially not when they were miles from anywhere, and she was wearing nothing but a thin shift. Still, the casual dismissal in his tone rankled.
They rodein silence for several more minutes, the horse's hooves eating up ground with mechanical efficiency. Maia could feel the shift in terrain beneath them; they'd left the packed roads near the castle and were now on rougher ground, picking their way through what felt like moorland.
The sky was beginningto lighten at the edges, the black fading to deep purple. Dawn wasn't far off.
"What's yer name?"she asked finally, when the silence became too oppressive to bear.
The man said nothing.
Maia waited,counting heartbeats. One. Two. Ten. Twenty. Still nothing.
Fine.If he wanted to be difficult, she could work around it.
"Me name is Maia,"she said, as if he hadn't just ignored her question. "Maia Ferguson."
Another stretch of silence.Then: "Aye. I ken who ye are."
"I figuredye already kent that, since ye came specifically to steal me away.”
"Aye.”
"So ye do havea tongue in yer mouth. I was beginnin' to wonder whether ye’d sealed yer mouth shut."
She heardwhat sounded like a snort, though it was hard to tell over the sound of the horse's breathing.
