The passageway cooled fast, the stone wall holding the day’s chill. Erica kept walking steadily until the stairs came into view. She was about to quicken her pace when she heard the footsteps close behind her.
“Erica.”
She stopped, feeling her breath grow uneven. She folded her arms to keep her hands still as she turned.
Alex stood a few paces away. His voice was controlled, yet a line ran under it.“Why did ye run?”
“I didnae run,” she said. The quick lie tasted wrong. “I just left before I said something I couldnae take back.”
His jaw worked once. “What did ye want to say?”
She shook her head. “I daenae ken. That I hate this?” It came out sharp. “That I hate lying to them? That I hate sitting there, pretending it is easy, when it is anything but?”
He swallowed but said nothing in response.
“And I hate that I need yer protection because men like Laird MacGee are fully convinced that I deserve to be with them?” she added, voice lower. “I hate that I couldnae do this on me own.”
The words cost her. She looked away and found no comfort in the flat wall.
“I lied, too,” he said. “Do ye think I enjoy sitting there, letting them believe something that we both ken isnae real?”
She faced him again. “Ye could have fooled me, Alex. Ye seemed to be very comfortable with it.”
“Nay. I did it to protect ye,” he said. He took a step closer without seeming to choose it. “That is the whole of it.”
She laughed once, humorless. “Protect me, aye. By turning me into a story.”
“What would ye suggest, then?” he asked, raising his hands in despair. “Because I cannae think of anything else. Do ye want this to be real?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Do ye want all of this to be real? The betrothal, the marriage, all this charade?” he repeated, knowing full well that she had heard him the first time.
“Real,” she said slowly, as if the word needed weighing.
“Aye,” he said. “Even if it is only for a while. Would that make it easier?”
She stared at him. The corridor felt smaller by a span. “Easier for who?”
“I daenae ken, Erica!” he responded, his voice lacing the edge of frustration. “For both of us?”
Erica laughed. “Really? That is yer solution?”
“If ye have something better, I am all ears.”
She groaned. “That is nae the point. The point, Alex, is that even if this were real, people would still find it hard to believe. Ye ken that nay one expects a laird like ye to get with a woman like me,” she said, heat rising.“They will talk in every corner.”
“The daughter of a traitor?” he asked, his voice as calm as the walls around them.
“Aye,” she said, the word a flinch and a fight both. “And a woman near twice the size of half the pretty lasses waiting to be chosen. I ken what I look like. I ken what I carry. I am nae a soft tale that fits a feast.”
His gaze did not slip, even though the slightest smile threatened to spread across his lips.
Is that really what she is worried about?
“Now would be a good time to say something. Please?”
“Well then, hear this. I daenae court soft tales. I court the truth. Ye stood in a ring where men watched for weakness, and ye didnae give them any. Then ye walked into a dining hall that weighs every breath, and ye kept yer shoulders up. That is what I see.”
