Rory had satawake for a long time after Alana had laid down and curled into her plaid. She hadn’t been able to sleep and she couldn’t understand why. It had been a trying day. She’d walked for what seemed like miles. Climbed that ledge—she wouldn’t even think about how terrified she was—or how she felt when Rory’s strong hands wrapped around her arms to steady her.
Nay, she would not give that a second thought.
She could not. She had no right even allowing such things to enter her mind. Not when she was promised to another.
Listening to Rory’s soft snores as he slept just feet from her on the other side of the fire had a strange pang pulling at her gut. She took comfort that through his rough and hard exterior he seemed to truly care for her safety.
More than once she’d caught him watching her. Normally, that would instill fear or uneasiness in her. She didn’t like the attention of men—her father excluded, of course. But when Rory Hart stared at her, it ignited a heat deep within her belly.
Even now as she watched him, she wanted to reach over and sweep the curl of hair that had fallen onto his forehead, covering his eye. She wanted to run her finger along the deep scar on his left cheek. The shadows from the fire made it appear even deeper, adding to her intrigue. She wondered what happened to cause such a wound. Itsedges were slightly roughened, not a complete straight scar, but close. It could have been done by a blade or something else equally as sharp. The possibilities were endless. She had seen her brothers injure themselves enough to ken that the cause could be aught.
The annoyance she had felt when they’d first been thrust together on this journey had been slowly dissipating. It began to be replaced. By what? She dared not voice the words. Naught good could come of it.
She was betrothed to another. Someone she had never met. Still, she tried to form an image of him in her mind. To conjure his face. But each time she did, it was always Rory looking back at her.
*
The next mornafter they’d cleaned their camp and broke their fast on dried fruit and the last of their bread, Rory offered his hand and helped Alana to her feet. Her still pained feet, but the pain was less this morn. It helped that the day afore, they moved at a much slower pace, and she had kept her feet dry. The swelling had gone down this morn and it was much easier to get her boots on. Even so, she had still wrapped her feet. She was for certs doing so the morn afore had played a large part in how her feet were feeling today.
“What shall I carry?” She asked, her voice sounding overly jovial even to her own ears.
Rory lifted a brow as he pondered her question and she believed she saw his lips tick up a wee bit at the corners of his mouth.
“I can be of assistance, ye ken. I am stronger than I look. I am no’ a weakling if that is what ye are thinking.”
He raised his hands in defense. “’Tis no’ what I was thinking at all. I ken ye are strong,” he admitted, and she couldn’t ignore the way his confession made her stomach tumble. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “If ye would like to help, ye can carry this.”
Unhooking the roll of blankets from his pack, he fastened them tohers and helped her slip the pack on her shoulders.
“Too heavy?” He asked.
She rolled her eyes. “These weigh naught.”
“But they are bulky. If they are too much, I will take them back.” His brows furrowed.
Did he really think she was so incompetent? The thought irritated her. She gave him a quick shake of her head and waited for him to load up the rest of their items.
Then she assessed his reaction. He hadn’t acted as if he believed she couldn’t carry them. Nay, instead, he seemed affronted in some way. As if she had insulted him. Alana rolled her eyes again, a gesture she found herself doing quite often in Rory’s presence, as she walked beside him, realizing that she had taken away his chivalry. He wanted to carry everything. Having her do so was taking away his manhood, or whatever it was that was going on inside his head.
She dipped her head to hide her smile.
Rory Hart, deep down inside, was a chivalrous man. She wanted to giggle.
Giggle!
She couldn’t remember the last time she had done so.
They walked on, side by side, quietly, as a strange peace settled betwixt them.
A contentment that she hadn’t felt in a long time consumed her.
They approached a fast-moving burn and Rory suggested they stop for a respite. Him doing so was so different from the man she had first begun this journey with. That man hadn’t wanted to stop for aught. He just wanted to push through everything. But not this one.
This one was caring. Concerned.
And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization.
As Rory bent over the burn, splashing the cool water over his face, she noticed a hare hop from the screen of the bushes.
