She glanced up sharply at him. “Oh, will ye fix that, too? Will ye make everything right? Save me again?”
Astounded by her outburst, by the anger aimed squarely at him for no clear reason, Jacob dragged a hand through his hair. For a moment he could make no sense of it at all. Then understanding slid into place, though he could hardly credit it.
“Och, shite,” he muttered. “Elena—” He broke off, exhaled, then tried again, more carefully. “Ye’re upset about the betrothal being forfeited.” Honest to God, the idea had never crossed hismind, but clearly she was upset—and if not this, then what? “I dinna expect...” he said, searching for words to express sympathy he didn’t understand. When he couldn’t imagine any, he said instead, “Ye should ken this at least: Thomas Hamilton was nae good enough for ye. Nae in courage, nae in spine, nor in the way a man ought to stand for his wife.”
The thought sat heavily on him, almost painfully. It had never crossed his mind—not once—that she might grieve the loss of Thomas and the promise of that future, that her heart might have been given more fully than he had understood. He’d been so certain she felt something forhim.
“I dinna expect...” He faltered, searching for understanding, trying to figure out what he’d misinterpreted, what he’d overlooked. Everything, apparently. “Bluidy hell, I’m confused.”
Elena’s green eyes narrowed and her mouth hung open in confusion.
“I’m nae upset about Thomas,” she finally said, her tone indicating Jacob was daft to believe she might have been. She let out a short, breathless sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m relieved,” she said. “God help me, Jacob, I’m relieved.”
“Well,Jesu, then what?”
At last she exhaled, blowing out the breath through trumpeted lips. “I heard my father speaking with yours last night.”
Jacob frowned. “Aye?”
“About us,” she said, still not looking at him.
“And?” He prompted, now having some idea where this was going, rousing a different concern—she was upset by what she’d heard and he didn’t think that was a good sign, having some idea what her father and his might have been discussing. “What did ye hear?”
“Enough,” she said softly, “to ken that ye spoke with my father, and offered yerself as sacrifice to save me from rumor and scandal.”
Jacob opened his mouth, but she lifted a hand, stopping him.
Elena lifted her chin at last, though her voice wavered. “I ken ye, Jacob. I ken the sort of man ye are. If ye believe something is expected of ye—if you think ye’ve caused harm—ye will step forward with nae complaint. Ye’ll shoulder it. Ye always have. And that,” she continued, voice beginning to fray, “is precisely why it should nae happen, any... arrangement between us.”
His scowl darkened. “Elena—”
“Nae,” she said quickly. “Ye dinna owe me your life—ye’ve saved me enough. Ye dinna have to tie yourself to me because it cleans up a scandal which we both ken was my doing.”
“'Twas as much mine as yers,” he stated. “Or more so—I could have avoided it.” He waited until her green eyes snapped to his. “If I wanted to.”
She stared at him, mayhap a bit surprised by the admission, or the truth behind it. But then she caught herself, shaking her head. “I willna wed ye because ye feel it’s yer duty to do so,” she said, her grip tight on the reins, her posture filled with tension.
And he saw it then, or thought he did, the wavering of her certainty. She believed he was sacrificing himself. She believed she was sparing him.
Jacob swung down from his saddle, boots striking the ground, assuming they had at least a few moments before the others caught up to them. He walked around his steed to where Elena sat on hers.
“Come down here,” he said, flicking his fingers at her.
She stiffened. “Jacob—”
“Come down,” he repeated, and then didn’t wait her out. He reached up, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her cleanly fromthe saddle before she could protest. He set her on the ground before him.
“I’m nae a man to be pushed where I’ve nae will to go,” he said, calmly but intentionally. “If I take a step, it’s because I’ve decided it’s mine to take. And I’m nae so careless with my life—or yers—that I’d bind myself where my heart was nae engaged.”
She stood very still, breath quickened, eyes bright with a mix of alarm and something else he couldn’t decipher at the moment.
“Ye imagine ye’re sparing me,” he went on, not softening. “And that,” he said quietly, “is what we’ll set right. I’ve nae blundered into this half-blind, or been coerced by any threat or expectation. As though I dinna ken my own mind.”
Her lips parted, and her frown deepened but he imagined shock was the most pressing emotion.
“I’ve lived my life knowing precisely what I will and will nae accept,” Jacob said. “I’ve turned aside things that might’ve made my path easier. I’ve disappointed folk who believed they were owed my obedience. I’ve walked away from what dinna suit me, even when it could’ve set things right.”
He heard hooves and voices behind him, their families drawing closer.
