‘As I said, we met at the prison when I went to free my servant.’
‘Aye, but that is not the whole story, is it?’ said Jasper with an indulgent, but not altogether kind, look in his eye. He leaned in. ‘I think the lovely Maren has some deep dark secrets to tell. And do not be offended by my assessment of my son’s proclivities, for it is the truth, and it is always best that the truth comes out sooner or later.’
Maren’s heart seemed to have climbed up to her throat. Jasper Cullan had as formidable a gaze as his son. It cut through her façade of respectability and exposed the quivering little jelly that hid within her breast, the frightened little mouse she tried so desperately not to be.
A cry went up from the beaters. ‘Fox, heading south, towards Balnakiel Woods.’
‘Can we drive it to more open ground?’ shouted Dunbar.
The hounds had taken up the scent of a fox. Their steady baying had turned to circling and yipping excitedly, tails wagging furiously. Finally, one hound started barking and crashed off through the undergrowth, followed by all the others.
Hew Dunbar was off first, not waiting for the rest of the pack, plunging into the dark woods. Maren set off in pursuit, keen to escape Jasper’s prying and Bryce’s control. Soon, the dense, gloomy forest was filled with the sound of baying hounds and shouting.
Maren had to concentrate hard to plot a safe course over fallen trees and ditches, swerving around brambles trying to snag her skirts and ducking under low branches, for Hawk was unstoppable and had committed to the chase.
A branch whipped across her face, stinging it, and when she looked ahead, the other riders had disappeared, and the sound of pursuit had faded into the distance. Had she taken a wrong turn and veered off from the party? Here, the woods seemed airless and fetid, thick undergrowth pressing in on all sides and ferns battling for light from the forest floor. The air was thick with flies buzzing. Hairs stood up on the back of Maren’s neck as though someone had walked over her grave.
The wind rose in a plaintive wail, and the ferns parted for a moment, revealing slanted amber eyes in a broad head. Maren’s heart leapt to her throat. Surely it could not be? It was but a glimpse, and she could not be sure. The ferns swayed again, and there was no mistaking her watcher. Not the fox they had been seeking, but another, far more dangerous adversary.
The wolf rose, shoulders hunched, head low, and crept forward. Hawk spotted it and whinnied and stomped, fighting the reins. The wolf bared its fangs and growled.
The stallion reared up and pawed the air, and Maren slipped down the saddle and off, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. A sickening pain ripped through her head as it connected with something hard, and her eyes darkened.
She must not pass out. She must get up and arm herself. Her little pistol was in her pocket. If she could just reach it, she could scare it away. Maren thrust her hand into her pocket and looked up.
Too late. She was face to face with bloodied fangs, a glutinous ribbon of drool sliding down, and hot, meaty breath in her face. The wolf would tear her throat out, rip her into little pieces and swallow them.
Maren brought her arms up to protect herself and braced, but suddenly there was a thudding noise, and hooves cannoned into the wolf, sending it fleeing back into the ferns. A curse sounded, and Bryce’s face loomed before her. He shook her hard, making her cry out.
‘Are you hurt, Maren? I saw you fall, but I did not see the wolf until I was upon you.’
Maren shook him off and sat up. ‘I am perfectly well. I just hit my head when I fell. My horse?’
‘Galloped off. Don’t fash. Hawk will find his way home soon enough.’
Maren grimaced as she felt in her hair, and her fingers came away bloody.
‘Good God, lass. What have you done? Let me see.’ Bryce was crouched down on one knee, and she was glad to lean against it to prop herself up. He probed gently in her hair and tutted. ‘A cut, not deep, but you should be calm for a minute. Are you dizzy?’
‘Not really. I am a little winded, is all. Stop fussing. I am well. And we should be going. That wolf may come back.’
‘I doubt it, but I will deal with it if it does.’
Maren pulled out her little musket and pressed it into his hands. ‘Use this. I made sure to load it before we set off.’
He smiled into her eyes. ‘Of course you did. God’s teeth, but you gave me a fright, lass.’
She tried to ignore the earnest look of concern on his face and the softness in his eyes, which melted her hard heart just a little. Bryce had such beautiful eyes, the colour of the ocean where it waves over sand, and they were fringed with thick golden lashes. It was a thrill when they looked at her with that spark of desire. Bryce raised his hand and stroked a stray hair from her face, then did the strangest thing. He bent in and kissed her forehead. It was a tender gesture and quite unexpected, as he was always so lustful and mocking.
‘A moment later, and I might have lost you,’ he said.
Maren put a hand up to push him away. ‘How can you lose what you never had?’ she said, trying to gather her scattered wits.
‘Don’t be like that with me. I would not see you hurt, lass. I meant it when I said I would look out for you.’
‘Empty promises, like all men and….’
Before she could finish, Bryce pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her. It was a dizzying kiss, deep, slow and almost heartfelt. The ground seemed to spin, so she clung onto Bryce to steady herself and without meaning to, kissed him back. The feel of his lips sliding against her own was sublime, intoxicating, and when he lay her down in the leaves and grass, she had no resistance to offer. A moment earlier, she had been facing a grisly death, so why not steal this little bit of happiness, catch it in her hand and hold it fast, even though it was like holding a snowflake and watching it melt away.
