"Which bolted durin’ the fight. We'll find it later." His eyes met hers, and this time there was no humor in them. Just something intense and unreadable. "Unless ye'd prefer tae walk?"
Enya looked at his outstretched hand. At the blood under his fingernails and the strength in his scarred knuckles. At the promise of safety and the threat of something she didn't understand.
She took his hand.
And tried not to think about how right it felt when his fingers closed around hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Saints preserve us, what happened tae ye?"
The voice came from somewhere in the blur of torchlight and stone, and Enya wanted to sink into the ground.
She was vaguely aware of being helped down from Harald's horse, of Amelia hovering anxiously at her side, of too many faces turned toward her in the castle courtyard.
She was soaked. Muddy. Bleeding. And about to be formally presented to her future husband's entire household looking like something dragged from a bog.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"There was an ambush," Harald's voice came from behind her, steady, controlled. "Brigands on the south road. Lady Cameron's escort was attacked."
A ripple of reaction moved through the assembled crowd.
Enya caught fragments—"brigands," "Cameron guards," "is she hurt?"—but couldn't focus on any of it. The cold had seepedso deep into her bones that she couldn't stop shaking, and the torchlight seemed to waver and dance in ways that made her dizzy.
"Me lady?" Amelia's hand was on her elbow, steadying. "Can ye stand?"
"Aye." Enya forced herself upright, forced herself to meet the stares. She'd endured worse than curious looks. She could do this. "I'm fine."
"Is that pond weed in her hair?"
Of course there was pond weed in her hair.
Of course, the first thing Harald's people would see was her at her absolute worst—soaked and filthy and marked by eyes that half the Highlands already feared.
It was a disaster.
"Enough." Harald's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. Not loud. Not harsh. Just absolutely certain. "Lady Cameron has had a difficult journey and needs care, nae an audience. Someone fetch hot water and blankets. Now."
The crowd shifted, but no one moved quickly enough for Harald's liking.
"Moira." He addressed a grey-haired woman near the front directly. "Take Lady Cameron and her maid tae the guest chamber. See that there's a fire lit and hot water brought. She needs tae warm up before anythin' else."
The woman stepped forward with a swift nod. "Aye, me laird. Right away."
"And be gentle with her," Harald added, so quietly Enya almost didn't hear it. "She's been through enough fer one day."
Something in Enya's chest twisted at the concern in his voice. She shouldn't care. Shouldn't let it matter. But it did anyway.
"Come, me lady." Moira's hand was gentle on her arm, her expression kind despite the curiosity in her eyes. "Let's get ye inside and warm, aye?"
Enya nodded, not trusting her voice. As she was led toward the castle entrance, she caught sight of other faces in the crowd—some curious, some wary, some openly staring at her eyes with expressions she recognized all too well.
Fear. Suspicion.
The look of people who'd already decided she was something dangerous.
Her step faltered.
