“I’ll be down anon,” Jacob replied.
With a nod, Gabriel turned back to Meggie. She lifted her face to him, the movement so instinctive it barely registered, and he bent to her at once, pressing a brief, familiar kiss to her lips before leaving the chamber.
The habit was so old, so effortless, that Jacob rarely noticed it at all—except in moments like this, when he was struck anew by how natural it was to them. He had seen it all his life, this quiet exchange, and had only gradually come to understand that not all couples shared such ease.
He found himself wondering how long it took to reach that point, where a gesture required no thought and no permission. Whether the repetition of it dulled its meaning, or if it only deepened it, settling into something steady and sure.
Naturally, his thoughts turned to Elena.
He frowned a wee bit, trying to imagine her tipping her face toward him so easily, waiting without question for his kiss. The image faltered almost at once, unsettling Jacob by the ease with which the thought had come, and for how great his disappointment was when it failed to materialize to his satisfaction.
His mother fussed with the lamp, trimming the wick, and Jacob dropped back onto the bed with a wince, the stitched wound smarting in protest.
She pivoted, standing over him, her hand on her hip as she looked down at him. “You didn’t answer my question earlier, Jacob. Does Elena know how you feel?”
Jacob’s throat tightened. “I canna say. There was... a moment.” He caught himself and threw his arm over his face. “It dinna matter. I would say Elena is, at most, confused about what she might believe, and yet it dinna matter, Mam. She will wed Hamilton, as will be dictated here and now at Strathfinnan. Sheunderstands that as well as I do.” Weary of the discussion, for all the displeasure it wrought, he simply repeated, “I dinna want to be the cause of trouble for her.”
Meggie’s smile deepened and then became defiant. “Who’s to say what trouble is?”
Jacob laughed outright, lowering his arm from his face to cast her a reproving look, their roles suddenly reversed. “Ye’re a menace,” he told her.
She only sniffed, unrepentant. “A long time ago, I almost let fear and expectations guide me, Jacob, rather than my own heart. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars I came to my senses ere it was too late.” She reached out then and brushed her knuckles lightly along his cheek, the gesture tender, not unusual. “Rest,” she said. “Whatever tomorrow brings will come soon enough, and you’ll meet it better with your strength and wits about you.”
Jacob nodded. “Aye, Mam.”
She moved toward the door, pausing there to glance back at him once more.
“You’ve a good mind, Jacob, and a good heart,” she said. “Trust yourself.”
The door closed gently behind her.
Jacob lay still for a moment, the room settling around him, the ache in his arm a dull, manageable thing. He exhaled slowly, letting the warmth of her presence linger even after she was gone, and allowed his eyes to close—steady, comforted, and no less resolved.
THE HORSE SHIFTED ASJacob finished tightening the girth, stamping once against the packed earth of the bailey. He soothed the animal with a low murmur, fingers steady on the leather as he checked the fit. Around him, the courtyard was already alivewith movement, the muted clatter of tack and harness carrying off the stone walls as men made ready.
Most were Jamisons and MacTavishes preparing for the day’s hunt. Lord Hamilton had lent a handful of his own men as well, as he had each day since Elena had been taken, or so Jacob had been told. And though he’d not asked, he’d been informed by his brother, David, that Thomas Hamilton had not once put foot in stirrup to offer his help with the search for Elena—and he was nowhere to be seen this morning, as they prepared to track down the raiders once and for all.
His prized destrier had been replaced by this one, a serviceable mount accustomed to travel and long days, meant to be ready when called upon rather than admired.
It was a good horse, steady, broad through the chest, willing enough, but it wasn’t his.
“Stables are practical, nae sentimental,” David had said as he’d delivered the mare, repeating an oft-sung tenet of Harry, the former captain of the Jamison army. He had shrugged then, sympathy plain despite the words, understanding Jacob’s attachment to his lost destrier—he felt much the same about his own.
Jacob sighed. His destrier had been built for weight and war, all power and muscle, a presence that could break a line when properly set to it. He had known the set of that horse’s ears, the feel of its stride beneath him, the way it leaned into the bit when danger pressed close. They had moved together for years, man and beast bound by habit and trust earned the hard way. And now it lay somewhere downstream, lost to the current and the rocks, its strength no match for either the jump or the river.
Jacob swallowed and tightened the strap another notch, perhaps more than necessary. He told himself—again—that there had been no choice. A man could replace a horse, but not the other way around. Their dive over the cliff had been the onlyway to save Elena, and he would make the same decision again without hesitation.
Gritting his teeth, he reached for the saddle blanket. Grief, like most things, had its place—and this was not it. He had a job to do today, hoping to God they could put those raiders to rest once and for all.
He was setting the saddle in place when the faint prickle at the back of his neck made him pause. Half a second later, he realized the awareness wasn’t so much a prickle as him noticing the fleeting hush that briefly quieted the courtyard. He straightened and turned, finding Elena striding directly toward him.
The pre-dawn light was pale and diffused behind her, catching on the loose strands of her dark hair. She wore a simple woolen gown, and had gathered a cloak sloppily around her shoulders, as if she’d dressed hurriedly. Her brow was drawn tight in a small, unmistakable frown.
“I just heard,” she said without preamble, stopping several feet away, “that ye are riding out again.”
Jacob gave a small nod. “Aye. We ken those raiders were close less than twenty-four hours ago—they could nae find them last night, but we mean to today.”
Her frown deepened, and she took a step closer, being close enough now that he saw what he’d overlooked in the last three days, the faint shadows beneath her eyes and a lingering pallor, not her normal healthy color.
