No, she betrayed me instead.
Her throat started to ache. God’s bones, she’d thought she’d let her anger at Siùsan go. She’d certainly had more important things to worry about of late. Nonetheless, hurt slammed into her again. Was it any wonder then that Craeg’s aggression earlier had made her retreat from him?
She’d trusted him, yet he’d let her down. Just like everyone else had.
They didn’t speak as they journeyed northeast. They’d left the woodland of southern Mull behind and now rode over green hills. The wind chapped her cheeks and made her eyes water, but the discomfort didn’t stop her mind from returning to the attack she’d just survived.
Images of her terrifying flight. The crashing of bodies through the undergrowth as they pursued her. The flash of steel. The spray of blood. The maniacal glint in Macquarie’s eyes.
She just wanted to block it all out.
Closing her eyes tightly, she concentrated on the steady thrum of Ruadh’s heavy hooves.A strange torpor settled over her then—shock—and she must have dozed for a while. For when she opened her eyes again, the world grew shadowed, and the western sky was ablaze with streaks of red and gold.
Stirring, she realized she’d slumped against Craeg’s chest.
And, wordlessly, he’d cradled her against him.
The steady beat of his heart nudged against her spine, and she became uncomfortably aware of him once more.
“Did I fall asleep?” she asked huskily.
“Aye.” His response held a gravelly edge. “We’ve made good time … we’ll reach Craignure shortly after the sun sets.”
The news made relief wash over Hazel. She just wanted this journey to be over. Traveling in the protective circle of Craeg’s arms made it hard to hold onto her anger and distrust. And she had to. It would make leaving easier.
A strained silence settled between them once more before Craeg cleared his throat. “Ye don’t have to leave Mull, ye know. Macquarie is dead. Ye are safe.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, even as her chest started to ache. “But I don’twantto stay here any longer.” The arm wrapped around her waist tensed, but she plowed on. “Leave this be, Craeg, what is done is done.”
Finally, they reached Craignure.
The village emerged from the gloaming, a scattering of low stone cottages with thatched roofs huddled against the shore, their walls dark against the pewter gleam of the Sound of Mull beyond.
Craeg’s chest rose and fell against her back, steady as a heartbeat, even as her own pulse fluttered like a caged bird.
Not long now until they would take different paths.
The smell of peat smoke drifted up from the chimneys, mingling with the sharp tang of salt and seaweed, and somewhere, a dog barked.
Firelight flickered in a few windows, warm and welcoming. The rhythmic clop of Ruadh’s hooves on the dirt track seemed to count down her final moments. Each step carried her closer to the dark shapes of fishing boats drawn up on the white sand. A larger galley rocked at anchor, its mast a black slash against the dying light. She tightened her grip on the handful of Ruadh’s mane, closed her eyes, and tried to hold onto this memory.
The warmth of Craeg’s thighs bracketing hers, the solid strength of the arms that now held the reins on either side of her—all of it slipping away, unstoppable as the tide that would carry her across the Sound come morning.
Craeg took her toThe Craignure Inn, a low-slung white-washed building that crouched at the southern end of the single road that hugged the shore. He urged his stallion under a stone arch into the stable yard behind the inn and swung down before helping Hazel off Ruadh’s back.
Faolan had flopped down, panting.
“Can ye go inside and ask Alison to prepare two chambers for us?” he asked, avoiding her eye as he set her down lightly. “I will see to Ruadh and join ye for supper in a wee while.”
Hazel stiffened, alarm fluttering through her. “Are ye staying here too?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. He did meet her gaze then, his eyes dark in the light of a torch that hung on a chain a few yards away. “Of course,” he said, hurt lacing his voice now. “Do ye think I’d leave ye here … alone?” Panic thudded into her, yet he continued. “I will stay at the inn tonight and see ye safely off tomorrow, at dawn.”
Hazel lifted her chin, even as her heart squeezed. He was being protective, yet she found his concern stifling now. Her lips parted as she readied herself to argue with him.
But when their gazes locked once more, something in his expression made her check herself.
A stubborn glint she’d come to know well.
