He slowed the curricle. With practiced ease, he maneuvered the team to the side of the road and brought them to a stop. He carefully secured the reins, each movement purposeful and sure. He turned to face her, his eyes haunted.
“What matters now is getting you to safety,” he said in a quiet voice. “That’s what I was sent to do, what Lord Oliver asked be done. If—” His voice fractured. He cleared his throat. “If, once we’re away from here, you wish to have our union annulled, I shall see it done.”
His dark eyes were shadowed with hopelessness. It cut her to the quick. Still, she nodded. She didn’t know what to think, what to say. Her father, Ollie, Alasdair… How much blood could Britain need shed?
“Did you enjoy your work?” Ollie always wrote so cheerfully about where he went and the hounds’ names. Did he enjoy killing, or was that glee part of the coded meanings he shared?
Alasdair contemplated his gloved hands. Bridget’s pulse quickened, thinking of the way he’d caressed her. She bade her heart slow, but her body cared little for the qualms of her mind.
“I enjoy the skill.” He glanced at her. “I enjoy being good at what I do. Having a purpose. Not frittering my life away racing horses or gambling, but doing something meaningful. Keeping our land safe, so men like my brother can oversee their tenants and while away their days picnicking and hosting balls.”
“But, the killing part,” she whispered. She dreaded his answer, but she must know. “Do you enjoy that?”
His eyes glazed over. She could see he was removed from the world about them. He no longer saw the sun-streaked road. No birds sang, wherever Alasdair was. No gentle breeze rustled the leaves above.
“It was a thing that had to be done,” he finally said in a voice devoid of inflection. “Not pleasant. Never that. There was no emotion about it at all, in truth.”
She didn’t believe that. Not for a moment. Was this what her father and the Crown had made Ollie into as well? A man who committed terrible acts, then walled them away in some deep corner of his soul, praying they never broke free to torment him? She latched onto the one flicker of hope in Alasdair’s words.
“Was?”
He gave a jerky nod. “Was. I’m home now.” His eyes flashed with startling anger. “I will not kill on Scottish soil.”
Was that it, then? The promise he’d made himself that kept the wall intact? She mustered the most soothing tone she could. “I’m not asking you to.”
She realized she was not afraid of him, this man she’d married. Nor did she pity him. Inside her, on his behalf, there formed a deep, aching pain.
He passed a hand across his eyes. When he lowered it, he was calm once more. “No, of course you’re not. I apologize. I’m not normally this…volatile. Forgive me.” He reached for the reins.
She caught his arm, drawing his gaze. “I do forgive you,” she said, because she knew he needed her to.
He watched her for a long moment. Leaves whispered above. “You deserve better than me, Bridget,” he finally said. “I meant what I said a moment ago. When we reach safety, I can have our union annulled. I realize you were forced into this marriage.”
How little he thought of himself, this man who required more from life than horse racing and gambling. “I most certainly was not forced into this marriage. I may have been beguiled into it by your kisses, but I was not forced. Do you think I can’t stand up to my father? That when the priest asked if I wished to wed, I couldn’t have managed a simple no? Whether you care for it or not, I am your wife, Alasdair Lochgeal, so stop trying to get out of being my husband.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Beguiled by my kisses?”
Bridget’s cheeks heated. “Yes, as I’m sure you intended.”
The twitch turned into a sly smile. “I had to get what I wanted somehow.”
Bridget couldn’t help but smile back. He looked so handsome when he smiled. “Well, it worked, so you can stop worrying and start driving. You keep saying we must get to safety, but here we sit.”
He nodded and took up the reins. He urged the horses back onto the roadway. Rested, they were happy to take the smooth forest road at a good clip. Bridget looked around, frowning.
“We’re headed east,” she said.
“We are.”
She rolled her eyes. They were back to short answers again, his attention focused on the forest about them and the road ahead. What did he think, that danger lurked behind every tree? “I thought Ceann na Creige was south, and west.”
“It is,” he replied. “Which is why anyone who knows we’re going there will think we’ve taken a different road. I don’t care for this forest. It offers too many places to hide, but we’re nearly free of it. Then, it’s all open ground as we make a wide loop west.”
“You truly think someone will come after us?”
“I have suspicions.”
“Because I’ve read Ollie’s letters?” she asked, confused. Any information in them would be worthless, now. Once a mission was over, the task was either completed or not. Perhaps she could reveal those recent few who’d…escaped. She suppressed a shudder at that thought.
