Forever. So that he never had to experience that moment of icy fear again when he knew she'd gone—alone. He was being irrational, but rationality seemed to desert him when it came to her.
“I haven't decided yet,” he snapped.
She gasped with outrage and tapped her finger on his chest. “I have three older brothers, so don't think you can bully me.”
Unbelievable. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if his men were seeing this. They were, and even from a circumspect distance he could see that their amusement matched his own.
He frowned. “Three?”
She nodded but didn't elaborate. “You are the most infuriating, overbearing—”
“Enough.” He cut her off the best way he knew how. He pulled her against him, their bodies sliding together with intimate familiarity, and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. Until the heat of desire tamped down the heat of anger. Until nothing else mattered but the rush of sensation pouring through his body.
Soon he was lost in the soft warmth of her mouth. The silk of her lips. The languid stroke of her tongue against his. His hand slid down her back to the curve of her bottom, wanting to fit her more snugly against him.
“Your men,” she murmured against his mouth.
He swore and broke off the kiss. He'd forgotten about their audience, and from the smirks on his men's faces, they'd realized it.
He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “We'll finish this tonight,” he promised, before releasing her.
“The kiss or the discussion?”
“Both.” He could see the worry in her eyes, and it clawed at him. Persuading her to run away was proving to be more difficult than he'd imagined, and it was wearing on them both. “It will be all right, Elizabeth.”
She met his gaze uncertainly and nodded.
A movement in the trees beyond her shoulder sent ice shooting down his spine. With his senses honed from years of evading capture, a cursory glance was all it took to assess the situation: His brother had finally returned, the news was grim, and there was an arrow pointed at Elizabeth's back.
Patrick had her behind him, shielding her with his body, almost instantly.
“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked by his sudden maneuver.
He made a gesture with his hand, ordering his men into position. His gaze shot to Robbie. The silent communication was enough to convey the seriousness of the situation.
“What's wrong?” Lizzie asked again, looking around.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Lizzie?”
Her brows furrowed. “Of course I do.”
“Then don't ask me any questions right now and go with my men back to the castle.”
“But what—”
He silenced her with a press of his finger on her lips. “No questions.”
She looked as though she wanted to argue, but to his relief, she nodded. His men formed a circle around her and led her safely up the hill.
When she was out of sight and earshot, he turned to face his brother, who along with half a dozen other warriors had emerged from behind the trees like bedraggled wraiths. All were covered in dirt and dried blood, their plaids hanging in tatters from their weary limbs like ghostly robes. They were in bad shape, but he was too angry to care. All he could see was the arrow pointed at Lizzie's back and the look in his brother's eye that said he intended to shoot.
“What the hell do you think you are doing, Gregor? I warned you to leave Elizabeth Campbell to me.”
Gregor returned Patrick's rage in kind. “It's too late for that.”
“You're wrong. My plan is working, the lass has agreed to marry me.”
“Plan?” Gregor sneered. “I should have killed the bitch when I had the chance.”
