Eyeing him, Hazel tucked the dirk into her belt. “A ferry leaves at dawn for Oban tomorrow, and I wish to be on it,” she said finally. “I have relatives there … they will take me in. If ye have any respect for me, Craeg, ye will not stand in my way.”
Her words lingered in the air between them. A direct challenge.
He stared at Hazel, as if seeing her properly for the first time. Who was this woman? He’d rushed headlong into this, had let the force of his passion, his feelings, carry him away. But she had changed her mind.
About him. About everything.
He wasn’t a fool, though. He knew what she was doing. Aye, he’d spoken rashly—and he wanted to punch himself in the mouth for it—but Hazel’s mind was already made up. She was deliberately distancing herself from him.
“Do ye think I’d try to stop ye?” His voice was thin and strained. It didn’t sound like his own.
She didn’t reply, although the look on her face hinted that she did.
He stepped back then, distancing himself from her. “Don’t worry, I shall see to it that ye get on that ferry tomorrow.”
She nodded stiffly, eyeing him as if he were about to pounce.
Nausea bit at the back of his throat as he moved toward his men then. Forcing himself to concentrate, he surveyed the faces of the Macquaries they’d taken captive.
Cameron Macquarie held himself with admirable defiance, shoulders back, chin raised, yet Craeg marked the shadow in his dark-blue eyes—the same shade as Hazel’s. He feared his wrath. Fearedhim.
Something twisted deep in Craeg’s chest. He was right to.
Suddenly, he was back in Moy’s hall, cowering as his father loomed over him, fist raised.Keep whimpering, and I’ll give ye real reason to.
He started to sweat.
Christ. Was there no escaping Leod Maclean’s curse? Today, the beast had risen from the depths, exposing him. The Macquaries knew it. So did Hazel.
Craeg fisted his hands at his sides. No. He wouldn’t let his father win. He’d slay the best, even if it killed him.
He shifted his attention to where Nat stood behind Cameron, silently awaiting his orders. Their gazes met. “Take the Macquaries back to Moy and throw them in the pit with the others,” Craeg ordered. “I’ll deal with them upon my return.”
Captain Black nodded, his own face set in hard lines. He then gestured toward Macquarie’s decapitated body. “And him?”
“Take his body … and head … with ye too.”
Craeg moved across to where Ruadh now nipped at grass by the roadside. Catching the stallion’s reins, he led him across to Hazel.
She hadn’t moved, and she still watched him, anticipating trouble. The realization made his chest tighten. He’d saved her life, but now, somehow, he’d become the enemy.
Meeting her eye, he tried to ignore the thumping of his pulse. “Come on … we have a long journey ahead.”
27: WHAT IS DONE IS DONE
PERCHED IN FRONT of Craeg, Hazel tried to ignore how close they were sitting. The heat and strength of his body enveloped her. The pressure of his arm locked around her waist, holding her steady as they galloped over the bare hills. The intimacy was too much, especially now. Faolan loped next to them, tongue lolling.
And all the while, she tried to ignore the misery that twisted in her chest.
God’s troth, it had all unraveled.
She’d hoped to leave quietly, and instead, Macquarie was dead, and she and Craeg had fallen out. He’d been heavy-handed, and she’d reacted instinctively.
Her anger still simmered in the aftermath.
She hadn’t realized Ewan had left such a deep scar. He’d wanted to make her his wife, but he’d had conditions—ones she hadn’t been willing to meet. She still recalled their last argument, the scorn on his face as he told her a woman was supposed to know her place. Why couldn’t she give up being a herb-wife? She should want to make him her priority.
But Hazel hadn’t grown up like other lasses. She had no father. No brothers. And although Siùsan had fretted sometimes over her safety, she’d never tried to control her.
