His dark brows drew together. “No. They’ll not drive ye out.”
“I don’t understand.” She leaped to her feet then and began pacing inside the stone circle, her boots sinking into the soft, mossy ground with each stride. “I’mnobody. Just a chieftain’s bastard daughter. Plenty of men sire by-blows. Why should the Macquarie care aboutmyexistence?”
Angry now, she turned to face Craeg. He hadn’t moved. He merely watched her.
“Why would he send men after me? Why would they ransack my cottage?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice unusually gruff. “But I intend to find out.”
Her pulse fluttered. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to drag ye into this.”
He approached her. “Ye already have.” Stopping before Hazel, he ensnared her gaze with his. “But let’s get something straight. Ye are notnobody. Ye have just as much right to draw breath as any of us.”
Hot prickling shame flushed through her. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
His hand rose, his fingers hooking under her chin as she tried to look away. “We live in an unfair world … a world that divides us up according to rank and casts blame on the innocent … but none of that matters. Not between ye and me.”
She swallowed. His touch, his nearness, and his fierce words were making it hard to focus. And she had to.
“Ye must remain at Moy for the time being,” Craeg added. “Ye’ll be safe behind the castle walls.”
Her pulse fluttered. “But—”
“I’m yer chieftain … and I insist,” he cut her off.
Hazel stared up at him. Lord, the man had no idea how mesmerizing he was. His eyes were dark, fathomless. His black hair curled around his nape. The laced collar of his lèine was open, revealing a distracting amount of skin and a scattering of crisp dark hair.
“Just for a short while then,” she said, wishing her voice was steadier. It was unlike her to be this meek.
He nodded, relief flaring in his eyes. His jaw bunched then as he dropped his hand and stepped back from her. The distance was both a relief and a disappointment. “The first thing I shall do upon our return is apprehend those Macquaries.”
Queasiness churned in Hazel’s belly once more. She didn’t want to cause trouble, but the bullish look on Craeg’s face warned her she’d have a fight on her hands if she tried to stop him.
He was doing what a laird should. He was looking out for one of his own. Hamish Macquarie had no right to send men to hunt and terrorize her. She’d told herself she could handle this on her own, but the truth was she was out of her depth.
The wolves were circling now.
Craeg had just held out his hand. She’d be a fool to refuse it.
Anger pulsed in Craeg’s chest, in time with Ruadh’s heavy hoofbeats at his side. The walls of his castle, a dull grey in the overcast light, rose before them. The bleating of sheep, as a shepherd drove his flock back toward Lochbuie for the day, drifted across the green hills and patchwork of fields that had just been harvested. It was an idyllic, peaceful scene, despite the dull weather, yet all Craeg could think about was Hazel’s revelation.
Hamish Macquarie had raped a local lass, had sired a daughter.
A daughter he’d ignored for years—until now.
And now, he’d sent thugs to find Hazel.
The heat throbbing under his ribs started to burn.
This shit-bag was about to become his father-by-marriage. Their clans were about to be united. The thought made Craeg grind his teeth until his ears ached.
Hazel had no idea what problem her father had with her, and Craeg didn’t either.
It didn’t make any sense. She was right. Men sired bastards all the time, chieftains as much as any other. Rape was something else though. But the truth of it was that an illegitimate son might prove a threat, yet a daughter didn’t. Hazel couldn’t take Macquarie’s place on Ulva. She didn’t want it.
Until recently, she hadn’t even known of her true parentage.
He glanced over at the woman walking beside him then. Hazel kept pace with him easily, for she was tall and long-limbed. He studied her profile for a moment, taking in the proud cast of her features, looking for any similarity to Hamish Macquarie.
