Page 90 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

His hand moved over the back of her head, feeling the loose strands of her hair beneath his fingers.

“I knew ye would come,” she whispered.

The faith in those words wounded him more deeply than doubt ever could have done.

Roy pressed his mouth against her hair, then lifted her before she could object and carried her from the lodge.

Donaldina objected as soon as she recovered sufficient breath.

“I am capable of mounting me own horse.”

“I didnae say ye were nae.”

“Then put me down.”

Roy continued toward his stallion. The clearing swarmed with men tending wounds, securing prisoners and beating sparks from their cloaks. Smoke rose behind them while flame pressed against the hunting lodge’s broken windows.

Her glare lacked its usual force. Weariness hollowed the skin beneath her eyes, and bruises were already darkening along her arm. Roy’s anger returned with such force that he nearly turned toward the prisoners. Donaldina touched his shoulder. The movement was small, but it brought him back to her.

Roy lifted her onto his horse, then mounted behind her. He drew his cloak around them both and placed one arm securely across her waist.

“I can ride beside ye,” she insisted.

“Tomorrow.”

Donaldina let out a frustrated sound, though she no longer attempted to dismount. They left the clearing before the lodge roof collapsed. The forest received them in silence.

Roy kept the stallion at a steady pace while Hamish and the others followed at a respectful distance. Moonlight silvered the branches overhead. The only sounds were hooves upon damp earth, the creak of leather and the wind moving through the trees.

Donaldina sat stiffly before him. Roy could feel the effort it cost her.

She would not tremble before Cormac. She would not weep before his men. Now she resisted even the comfort of leaning against the man who carried her home, as though exhaustion were another enemy to be defeated through pride.

Roy kept his arm around her. He said nothing.

Gradually, the rigid line of her back softened. Her head lowered. Her breathing became slower. When they emerged from the forest onto the open moor, the wind struck them without the shelter of trees. She shifted closer beneath his cloak, and he tightened it around her.

A little later, the horse descended a rough slope. Donaldina leaned backward for balance. She did not straighten again. Her body settled fully against his chest, her head resting below his shoulder. The trust of it stole the breath from him.

Roy’s arm tightened instinctively around her waist. He drew her closer until no space remained between them. Donaldina became still. She was awake.

The knowledge moved through him with dangerous warmth. He could feel every breath she took, every slight movement of her body against his. Damp strands of her hair brushed his jaw. Beneath his hand, her waist seemed impossibly slight after the violence required to recover her.

Roy forced his grip to loosen. Donaldina’s hand came to rest upon his forearm. She did not move it away.

They rode on beneath the dark sky, saying nothing. The moor stretched before them, silvered with frost and moonlight. Far in the distance, Dun Ard’s watch fires burned upon the cliffs.

Home.

Roy looked down at the woman resting against him. He once believed home was a stronghold, a boundary and a name carried through generations.

Now it breathed quietly within his arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Donaldina did not break upon returning to Dun Ard. She endured the gates opening beneath the watch fires and the rush of voices in the courtyard. She endured Mairi’s cry, Hamish’s questions, and Father Maol lifting one hand in silent gratitude when he saw her alive. She endured Roy dismounting behind her and lowering her from the horse as though the ground itself could not be trusted to receive her safely. His hands remained at her waist for one moment after her feet touched stone.

“Can ye walk?” he asked.