The bucket surfaced with a wet slosh. Magnus lifted it onto the stone rim, and Ada leaned in to examine it.
The water looked clear. No obvious discoloration, no floating debris. But when she breathed in…
"There," she said. "Dae ye smell that?"
Magnus moved closer, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. He bent his head over the bucket, breathing in deeply. "Smells like water tae me."
"Nay, there's somethin' else. Somethin' bitter. Almost like—" Ada leaned in further, trying to place the scent. It was faint, barely detectable beneath the smell of wet stone and earth. "Like metal, but nae quite. More like?—"
Her foot slipped.
One moment she was standing on solid ground, the next her boot had caught on something—a root, a rock, she didn't know—and she was pitching forward toward the well's opening.
She saw the dark water below. Felt her heart leap into her throat. Reached out desperately for anything to stop her fall.
Strong hands caught her around the waist, yanking her backward so hard she gasped. She stumbled, her legs tangling in her skirts, and would have fallen anyway if Magnus hadn't had such a firm grip on her.
"Careful!" His voice was sharp with something that might have been fear or anger, she couldn't tell which.
Ada's heart hammered against her ribs. She'd been inches from falling headfirst into that well. If Magnus hadn't caught her…
"Are ye hurt?"
"Nay, I'm—" Ada tried to step back, but her skirts were caught on something. She tugged once, twice. Heard fabric tear. "Oh nay."
She looked down. Her skirt had snagged on one of the gorse bushes, and in her struggle to free herself, the fabric had ripped clean up the side. A long tear that exposed her leg from ankle to mid-thigh.
Heat flooded her face. "Oh God."
Magnus still had one hand on her waist, steadying her. His other hand moved as though to help with the torn fabric, then stopped abruptly when he saw how much skin was exposed.
Torvald, who'd been standing near the cottage, started forward. "Is the lady all right? Daes she need help?"
Magnus's head snapped up. The sound that came from his throat was low and dangerous, almost a growl.
"Leave," he said.
Torvald stopped mid-step. "What?"
"I said leave. Go back tae the village. Tell them we'll close the well taenight and post guards." Magnus's voice was tight,controlled, but something burned beneath it. "Lady Ada and I will return tae the keep. Alone."
Torvald's eyebrows rose. He looked between Magnus and Ada, seemed to understand something Ada didn't, and nodded once. "Aye. As ye say." He turned and walked back toward the cottages without another word.
Ada stared at Magnus. "Ye didnae have tae send him away. I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye nearly fell into that well." Magnus's hand was still on her waist, his grip firm. "And now ye're standin’ here with yer leg exposed where anyone could see."
"It's just me leg."
"It's naejustanything." His gaze dropped to the torn fabric, then away quickly, as though looking hurt him. "Ye're tae be me wife. I'll nae have other men seein' ye like this."
Ada's breath caught. The possessiveness in his voice, raw and unexpected, sent heat spiraling through her chest. She should have been offended. Should have told him he had no right to speak to her like that, to order Torvald away like she was property to be guarded.
But instead, all she felt was a strange, fluttering warmth.
She swallowed hard. "I didnae mean tae cause trouble."
"Ye're nae trouble." Magnus released her waist slowly, as though reluctant. "But we need tae get ye back tae the keep before anyone else sees ye like this."
