She dropped to her knees beside the burn, cupping water to her mouth. It was icy, tasting of peat and stone. She drank deeply, then splashed handfuls over her face and neck, gasping at the cold shock of it.
Sitting back on her heels, she drew in a deep breath, gathering her strength once more. That was better. With each furlong that she put between herself and Moy Castle, she was severing the bond between her and Craeg.She was ensuring he didn’t throw away his future over reckless passion.
Water dripped from her chin, and she wiped it away with her forearm. Her hair had come loose from its braid, wild and tangled. She should probably comb her fingers through it and plait it again before she moved on.
A twig snapped behind her.
Hazel froze. Every muscle in her body locked.
Heart kicking against her ribs, she slowly turned.
Men stepped out from the trees. Around half a dozen of them. Their faces were hard, their clothes travel-stained. Dirks and short swords hung from their belts.
Her breathing caught.
Outlaws? No. Worse. Moving with loose-limbed stealth, they fanned out in a loose circle around her, cutting off escape.
Hunters.
And she was prey.
25: SOMETHING PRECIOUS
THE WIND SLAPPED at Craeg’s face, making his eyes water. Leaning forward over Ruadh’s neck, he urged the stallion into a fast canter. Faolan raced beside him, a grey and brown streak.
He had to get home. Back to Hazel.
Ahead rolled lush green hills framed by a wide sky full of racing clouds. The thunder of hoofbeats cut through the shriek of the wind. Craeg led the way southwest, with his warriors fanning out behind him.
They sensed his urgency.
It had been a brief but gut-wrenching visit to Duart Castle. He’d offended his clan-chief, and his best friend had sustained a grave injury. Greig’s gaunt face, the despair in his eyes, still haunted him.
But his advice had worked.
Earlier that morning, Craeg had gone to Loch’s solar and humbled himself.
The first thing he’d done upon entering was to apologize. His chest had burned as he told Loch that he would accept whatever decision he made. The words had scraped his throat raw, but he’d forced them out. There wasn’t any point in fighting the clan-chief on this. He’d injured Loch’s pride, and only genuine contrition would do.
His gut had clenched the whole time though. If Loch demanded that he let Hazel go, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.
And yet, the Maclean had surprised him.
A rueful smile tugged at Craeg’s lips then.
Aye, the meeting with Loch had taken an unexpected turn. Mairi, the Saints bless her, had torn strips off her husband the eve before, it seemed. Loch had been in a bleak mood following Greig’s unexpected return and grave injury. Both he and his wife were worried about what this would mean for their son’s future. He was the eldest, destined to take on the mantle of clan-chief one day. If he was lamed, he could still carry out his duties, but what if he ended up bedridden? The title would go to the second of the three brothers, Alistair—something that might break Greig.
He’d grown up so sure of his place in the world, of the future that awaited him. But sometimes, life could be a cruel bitch.
Mairi had told Loch in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t to stand in the way of Craeg and Hazel’s union, that happiness was hard enough to find as it was without men like him caring only about politics and clan alliances.
And so, Loch had given his blessing.
Craeg still couldn’t believe it.
“Maclean.” Nat pulled up alongside him then. The wind had reddened his cheeks and made his green eyes water. However, his expression was serious. Earnest. “The wedding will go ahead then?”
Craeg flashed his captain a smile. “Aye … as soon as I can arrange it.”
