“We will assign two men to guard ye, and ye canna enter the wood. Ye show us the place where ye walked into the wood, and we can assuredly find Reade from there. Do ye understand?”
Blair nodded and released a hot breath in a rush. The idea of going near Paden made her stomach curdle, but her fear of Reade meeting the scoundrel on his own overwhelmed her trepidation.
“Get yourarasaid. Keep yourself warm from the mist and chill.” Blair spun toward the stair, but Sorcha grabbed her arm and held her back. “Ye have to think of more than yourself, Blair. Dinna let anything happen to ye, for Reade cares for ye much, and protect that wee life ye carry. Reade’s son deserves the chance to live.”
Blair gave Sorcha a curt nod, then Sorcha released her wrist. Blair wrapped her hands in her skirts as she made her way to the stairwell.
Reade cares for ye much,Sorcha had said.
Nay, ‘twasn’t possible.
Was it?
Could ye care for someone ye didn’t fully trust?
Or did he trust her more than he cared to admit, and from that, his feelings grew for her as well?
How or why he cared for her didn’t matter. Blair already knew one thing, a realization she had come to when she stood in that frigid, despondent dungeon. The reason why she had been so devastated when he had not listened to her and shoved her unceremoniously into the cell.
Blair had fallen in love with the thick-headed lug.
It didn’t matter that he was a MacDonald, that he hadn’t wanted to wed her, or that he couldn’t bring himself to put his suspicions to the side fully.
None of that mattered.
Reade had stroked something deep inside her, cleaving her to him, and her heart had responded.
Shelovedhim.
And if she had to risk her life, and the life of the bairn inside her to save him, so be it.
The air was dry, butthe leaves were damp where they brushed against Reade’s head and shoulders, leaving damp trails on his clothing, reminders of where he’d been and of whom he was meeting.
Reade found the tree where Blair had tied off her palfrey the day before. He decided it would be better not to leave his horse where he might be discovered by Paden or his cronies, so he led his steed off the trail and into the thicket. Once he was far enough in that the horse wouldn’t be seen from the trail, he dismounted and tied the reins off on an overhanging branch.
The woods were silent – even the leaves had dried enough that nothing dripped. No animals scuttled; no birds chirped. This late in the day, wee beasties should have scampered through the wood and created a chorus of sounds. The stillness told him that he was not alone in the woods. Paden must be hiding somewhere.
Hiding, of course. Only a coward hit a woman and hid behind trees instead of facing their adversary.
The budding rowan tree was right where he remembered from the day before; Blair had stood beneath it when he first saw her with Paden. Its branches were starting to sprout with creamy white blooms.
This was the spot.
Reade reached over his head and withdrew his claymore, holding it steady between both hands as his eyes scanned the bright green and deep brown landscape, searching for any movement that might reveal Paden’s position.
A flicker to his left, a blue-green flicker, and Reade paused, arms tense. Another flicker, and the portly man appeared from behind a thick, aged oak. He wore a dirty plaid and a foppish smile. His whole visage made Reade’s skin crawl, and he shifted his stance to attack the man.
Who didn’t hold a weapon. His hands were empty.
The hairs on the back of Reade’s neck twitched.
What was Paden thinking?
“Ye struck my wife, threatened to use her as a spy. I’ll no’ have her tainted by your crude requests. She’s suffered enough under your cousin. Find your weapon, and I’ll show ye that she’s at the mercy of the Gordons no longer.”
His voice was hard and as sharp as his blade. But Paden didn’t move for a weapon. He leaned against the oak as though he was having a casual conversation with Reade. He clicked his tongue against his teeth.
“The MacDonalds are renowned for their hasty, thoughtless behavior. Not signing the oath is the most obvious, yet here ye are, rushing into a situation of which ye have no hope of leaving.”
