“What makes ye think we’re in love?”
Lottie smiled at her, walking backward to look at her. “Oh, everythin’. The way he looks at ye. The way ye look at him. Every time ye two are in a room together, it’s exhilaratin’.”
Jeane smiled softly to herself. “Do ye really think so?”
“I really do. It doesnae matter who ye are. Ye are still the woman who helped me. Who healed me.”
“I wouldnae call ye healed just yet,” Jeane warned.
Lottie smiled. “I’m out of bed! I consider that progress.” She tilted her head, looking at Jeane. “Would ye tell me yer real name?”
Jeane hesitated. “I will. When I’m safe.”
Lottie pouted but then nodded. “All right, mystery healer.”
“Ye can still call me Liliana.” Jeane smiled. “Ye have made being away from me closest friends bearable. It’s been me honor to help ye and become yer friend.”
“I think of ye as a friend, too,” Lottie said brightly.
The two women had walked further out than Jeane had intended, and when they reached the clearing with all the dandelion puffs, Jeane breathed out a long sigh.
It was beautiful, the dandelion puffs flying here and there as they walked among them. Each step sent a rush of more dandelion puffs up, and Lottie laughed but then began to cough.
She doubled over, spitting clear mucus onto the ground which encouraged Jeane. It was probably just the dandelion puffs that were making her cough.
“We should go back,” Jeane said, and it was at that moment that she froze, feeling a presence behind her—a big one. She did not think much of it at first, putting her hand on Lottie’s lower back to turn her around, but soon enough, the presence became unbearable.
“Someone’s followin’ us,” Lottie whispered, and Jeane nodded.
“It has to be one of yer brother’s men,” Jeane said with more confidence than she felt. “Doesnae it?”
Lottie nodded. “Sometimes they can be a little overprotective. I’m sure that’s all it is.”
But as the women walked back toward the castle, a sense of unease swept over Jeane. The mankeptfollowing them, and as they turned a corner, Jeane heard a sharp gasp from Lottie.
They walked around the corner proper, and Jeane saw two of Fergus’ men tied up on the ground. Jeane opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late.
The man behind her swept her up into his arms, nearly lifting her off the ground. Another man grabbed Lottie, and bless her, she screamed, trying to alert anyone nearby.
The tied-up men struggled, muffled sounds coming from them, but no one came to help.
“Make her quiet, or I will hurt her,” the man murmured in Jeane’s ear.
She shuddered with revulsion as his arms tightened around her waist.
“Yer father has been lookin’ for ye, Lady Jeane. He will be glad to ken ye’re safe.”
Jeane struggled, all the blood seeming to drain from her face. Hearing her real name coming from the man’s throat made her shiver. She felt cold, as if she were standing outside her body looking in. Her father had found her. And now, what would he do to her?
Lottie continued to scream, but Jeane looked her in the eyes, trying to catch her gaze as her screams turned hysterical.
“It’s all right,” Jeane said. “I will go with them.”
“Nay! Ye cannae—” Lottie started, but the man twisted her arm painfully behind her. Lottie cried out and then fell silent.
But then Lottie shot her eyes to Jeane’s as if to signal her, and she stepped down onto the kidnapper’s foot, hard.
He cried out, letting her go only for a split second, but it was enough. Lottie took off, grabbing Jeane’s arm and tugging hard. The man holding Jeane, startled by the sudden events, loosened his grip, and Jeane was free.
