“Is he cruel?” Alana asked this question quietly, as if she were afraid to say it out loud.
Rory thought about how to answer Alana’s question. If he spoke the truth, he would for certs frighten her. If he lied, he was leading her into a situation she wouldn’t be prepared for. To lie felt like a betrayal. That was something he didn’t want on his conscience.
He cared too much for Alana to not warn her of what she could expect when she arrived at Caer Rannoch.
“Michael has been kenned for no’ having the most e’en of tempers,” he started and paused, hating that he was telling her things that she didn’t want to hear.
Beside him, Alana’s brows drew down, her pretty mouth pinched into a pucker as if she had just bitten a sour apple. “He is no’ kind then?” She lowered her eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirts. Then she laughed nervously. “Of course he is no’. Why should I have expected aught less?”
“I dinnae tell ye to hurt ye.”
She faced him, bringing her hand to cup his cheek, and met his eyes, a sadness in hers that had not been there afore. “I ken that. I am no’ upset with ye. Actually, I am thankful that ye have been so honest and forthcoming with me. Something that I couldnae trust from my own parents, though I should have been able to.”
Rory wanted to sweep Alana up in his arms and go in the opposite direction than they were heading. To take Alana far from here. To hide them both away where no one would be able to find them. He was quite proficient. They didn’t need the shelter of their families to provide for them. He could do that for them both. He leaned his head into her hand and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the soft skin of her hand against his rough beard.
“Whate’er ye want to do, Bluebell, I will do it.”
Alana dropped her hand, a sad smile on her face. “If only I could take ye up on that offer.”
He clasped her hands in his, bringing them to his chest. “Ye can.”
“Nay, I cannae, Rory.” She shook her head. “Duty to my clanoverrides aught that I may feel. The safety and weel-being of my father’s people mean e’erything to me. I cannae turn against them.”
“E’en at the expense of yer own happiness? Ye would give up yer freedom? Yer happiness and weel-being?” Rory asked in disbelief.
“Aye,” she said quietly. “I am but one person. My clansmen are in the thousands. If me sacrificing myself for their safety is what it takes, then that is what I shall do.”
Rory shook his head and pushed off the rock. “Stupid woman.”
Alana jumped to her feet. “How dare ye? Ye’ve nay right to judge me in any way, Rory Hart. We have this same conversation o’er and o’er again and I willnae have it again,” she snapped, storming off.
“Stay close.” She ignored him and stomped toward the trees. “Alana,” he called out, his voice stern. This time she paused. “Dinnae wander far.”
“Why no’? Mayhap I will meet someone or something that will put me out of my misery.” She disappeared into the cover of the trees.
As much as he wanted to chase after her, he didn’t. Cradling his head in his hands, he drew in a deep breath. Damn, that woman was stubborn.
And he found that he admired that about her.
He waited for quite some time afore tracking Alana down. He busied himself getting their camp ready for the night. He found her sitting by a cliff edge, her mood sad, as she stared off into the darkening night. Not saying aught, he held out his hand to her.
Alana pursed her lips, her hazel gaze drifting from his face to his outstretched hand and then back to his eyes. Silently, she accepted and let him pull her to her feet. They walked back quietly. No words to say. Back at camp, she climbed onto the blanket he’d laid out for her earlier and curled up into it on her side.
He watched her from the other side of the fire, wanting to reach out to her so badly it hurt, but kenning he couldn’t.
Chapter Fourteen
Alana hated thesilence that had settled betwixt her and Rory. For reasons unkenned to her their arguments really bothered her. They shouldn’t. He was naught to her.
It was a lie.
But one that she didn’t want to admit.
He shouldn’t mean aught to her. If she would use her head instead of her feelings, she’d push him away. The smart thing to do would keep him at arm’s length. But it was hard. So hard to do. Even moreso now that she kenned her future husband, Michael, as she had learned from Rory, was short of temper and even shorter with kindness.
What would it mean to her or to Rory to admit that he was starting to mean something to her? Naught could be done about it. No good would come of it. Alana needed to let those feelings go. She needed to forget they existed, no matter how hard that would to be.
They broke their fast that morning on crusty bread and berries Rory had foraged. Silently, they continued on their journey and they had not spoken a word yet. The silence was driving her mad. She couldn’t take it anymore and finally gave in, starting a conversation.
