The Laird’s Runaway Bride (Charmed by the Sassenachs #1)

Chapter 2

2

The cry that escaped Amelia’s lips, she couldn’t control. How would she have been able to try, with the sight of this man before her? His long, dark hair cloaking his face, his knife in one hand, spattered with dark, ruby-red blood. He looked as though he had crawled from a nightmare and into the real world, catching sight of her as she bathed.

She dropped below the water as best she could, wrapping her arms around herself as she scrabbled back towards the bank. After running all night, she had been drenched in sweat and dirt, and she had deigned to give herself a break for long enough to clean herself off in this quiet brook. She feared a sickness entering through the small wounds on her body if she did not tend to them, and she knew she would not survive such an illness out here in the woods alone. What little she could do to take care of herself, she knew she had to try.

And she had looked around to make sure it truly was just her, out there in the woods. She had been certain there was nobody else nearby. She was sure she had heard the sound of some men earlier in the day, but that had been hours before—or what felt like hours, at least—and they would have been long-gone by now, if they had been looking for her at all. So, she had stripped out of her tattered dress, and slipped beneath the cleansing icy-cold surface of the river.

And now, this man, this wildling, was starting at her from the other bank. Under his gaze, for a moment, she was frozen, like a bird caught in the sight of a hunter, hoping that stillness would save her.

But then, she realized she was naked. Naked, in front of this man, in the middle of the woods…

In her rush to pull on her dress, she sent it slipping from the edge of the burn into the water. It sank down like a stone, and she pulled it out, letting out a cry of frustration. She could hardly put it on now, she would die of a chill, but she could not stay, barely dressed, in front of this man.

If that was truly what he was. She lifted her gaze to meet his again, her breath stuttering in her throat as he stared her down. He didn’t move a muscle, but her change of position gave her a better look at his face. She could see a sharp jaw, with a dark stubble that matched his hair. In his locks, she could make out threads of silver catching the watery sunlight picking its way through the trees. He stood tall, his shoulders broad, and she could tell from just a glance that he bore strength in his lean body. His hands were callused, and she briefly found herself wondering how they might feel against her body.

“Who are you?” she cried out to him, wrapping her arms around herself, beginning to shiver beneath the once-refreshing cold of the water. “And what are you doing spying on a lady?”

A slight smile curled the corner of his lips. Something about the look on his face made the crimson blood on his skin glow with even more potency. Some part of her longed to clamber from the river and run, regardless of her nakedness, to lose herself into the woods rather than stay another second here with this man, but another part of her urged her to stand her ground. She had run enough, these last few hours, hadn’t she?

“Ye’re in no place to demand anything, lass.”

She bristled. His heavy brogue spoke to his roots. He clearly came from this place, and knew the land well.

“Were you sent to find me?”

He didn’t answer. Had he been sent by her father? To find her, to bring her back?

“Would ye expect a man to find you out here?” he remarked, his eyes tracing up and down her body. “Is that the reason for yer… state of undress?”

Her eyes widened.

“Of course not!” she protested. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

Her teeth began to chatter. She wanted to stay defiant, but she knew she needed to get out of the water soon, lest she catch her death of cold.

“You shouldnae be here,” he continued, as he moved towards her. She stood her ground, clamping her arms more rightly around her naked body.

“Then turn your back, so I can get out with my dignity!” she protested. To her surprise, he reached for the cloak that hung around his shoulders, and laid it on the ground next to the edge of the river.

“Here. Take this. Cover yerself up.”

She hesitated. She had little other choice in that moment, but still, the thought of taking a favor from him seemed… dangerous, somehow.

“Turn away!” she ordered him. His eyes flashed with irritation, as though he was not used to be told what to do, but finally, he did as she demanded, turning his back on her.

She clambered from the water quickly, and tossed the robe over her body. It was still warm from where it had laid against his skin, and his musk seemed to be wrapped in to the fabric, the scent of it curling around her with ease. She wrung out her dress uselessly, watching as the frigid water fell on to the damp earth below, and let out a sigh. Though at least she was covered for now, she knew it would be a while before she could slide back into her own clothes.

He turned to her again, once he had allowed her a few seconds to cover herself up. Now she was a little closer to him, she could see the heavy weight of blood on him, the spattering of it on his knife, his skin, even a drop that had pooled at the base of his lip. For a moment, she felt a wild urge to reach out and brush it off, but she managed to stop herself in her tracks.

“What’s a Sassenach like you doing out here?” he demanded, his eyes tracing up and down her, as though he wasn’t sure she was actually real. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What did you call me?”

He chuckled, though she could not hear the mirth in it.

“Listen to yer voice, lass,” he remarked. “You’re not from around these parts, are ye?”

She wanted to protest, but she knew it would have done little good. She could hardly conceal her accent; it was one of the most recognizable things about her.

“No,” she confessed, finally. She could feel the weight of realization hanging heavy on her shoulders. She could not hide, and she’d been foolish to imagine that she could. No matter how much distance she tried to put between herself and what was expected of her, it seemed inevitable that she would stand out like a sore thumb wherever she went.

“Aye,” he remarked. “And you shouldnae be out here alone. It’s not safe.”

“Why not?” she challenged him. Her defiance caught her off-guard. If she was captured again, she supposed, why shouldn’t she say what was truly on her mind?

As she shivered before him, her eyes slid past him, and to her horror, she could make out the sight of a body slumped just a few yards away from him. Her hand flew to her mouth, cold fear gripping her chest. What if he wasn’t sent here to help her? What if he was… what if he was worse?

“What’s that?” she whispered, pointing with a quivering finger to the slumped body half-concealed by the shadow of the trees. He glanced over his shoulder, and stepped aside so she could get a better look.

“It’s a stag, lass. Naught to be afraid of.”

He sounded amused by her terror. Was this funny to him, how fearful she was? She took a step forward, her legs trembling, and sure enough, she could see now that it was nothing more than a deer, its head twisted unnaturally to the side, its eyes closed. She felt a stab of sadness, seeing it like that, though she knew it was foolish. How many animals had she eaten over the course of her life? But she had never been faced with the bluntness of seeing one, killed, before her…

She knelt down next to it before she could stop herself, though she knew not what she planned to do. She reached out and planted a hand against its flesh, feeling the warmth of life seeping from it. This creature had come out here, knowing not that it was living its last few hours… much like she had, when her father had loaded her and her sisters into a carriage to drive them north. In some ways, she envied the deer. At least it would never have to share a bed with that awful Laird, Donald.

Then, she looked down, and saw that the blood of the stag was seeping against her knees. She let out a disgusted cry and leapt backwards, nearly crashing into the man who had stumbled upon her bathing. He caught her before she toppled back into the river, his arm around her waist, the strength of it almost shocking to her after what felt like a lifetime in this forest alone.

“Careful, now,” he warned her. His voice was gruff and sharp, and she glanced up at him, intending to protest his orders. Yet, as soon as she found herself looking into his brown eyes, so brown they almost looked black under the cloak of his hair, she felt the words wither in her throat. The sinewy muscle of his arm pressed against her for a moment, a sudden warmth heating her body that took her by surprise.

She pulled away from him quickly, hugging the cloak tightly around her shoulders. He made his way towards the stag’s corpse, and hefted it on to his shoulders with ease. She could see, now that he had given her his cloak, his muscles moving beneath his skin, the practiced strength of his body, like a wolf hunting for prey.

“You stay here,” he told her. “I’m going to get my men to take this back to the Keep, then I’ll deal with you.”

“Your men?” she asked, with a gasp, her eyes darting around like she feared she might be watched in that very moment. They must have been the voices she had heard earlier. More sent to find her, or just a part of this hunt?

He moved off between the trees, and she stood there, her feet frozen to the ground, like the tree roots had reached up through the earth to hold them there. She didn’t know what to do. She could have tried to run now, but the cold of the river had stiffened her muscles, and besides, she was exhausted. She could barely muster up the strength to keep standing. Whatever she had imagined when she had first bolted from the Keep, she could see now it had been nothing more than a mistake. And now she had been found, she was sure she would be returned to her father.

She shuddered at the thought. Her punishment for daring to defy him would be harsh, and she knew it. And how would Donald, the man she was supposed to marry, take her abandonment? Would he see that she was so desperate not to be with him that he would call off the wedding?

Or would this make him even more certain that he was to make her his? The thought curdled in her stomach. For a man like that, perhaps her unwillingness would be part of the charm. As sickening a notion as it was, she could hardly believe that he truly thought she wanted to be with him, or would have chosen to be if she’d had the chance.

Not that she had given much thought to a true marriage yet. Of course, there had been times when she and her sisters had imagined what kind of man they would marry. She had never put a face to her fantasy, but she had imagined someone tall, dark, handsome, someone who gazed at her with such adoration she could scarcely imagine it; someone who would cherish her and adore her above all else, someone who would…

“Aye, aye.”

The man’s gruff tones cut through her memories, and she glanced around to see him approaching her. He paused by the river to clean his bloodied hands, dipping them below the water. Her gaze was drawn to his fingers, their calluses, their dexterity. For a brief moment, she could almost feel them on her body, though she knew she was mad for thinking it. She had seen what he’d done to the stag, and she was far less formidable than that beast. This man could have done anything he wanted with her.

For some reason, the notion of it didn’t terrify her as much as it should have.

“Where are you from, lass?” he asked her, as he easily vaulted the river and made his way towards her.

“England.”

He let out another chuckle, that low sound that rumbled up from some place deep inside of him.

“Aye, well, you can be sure I’m not taking you all the way back there,” he replied. “And I’d wager you didnae run all the way from England to Birnam Wood. Where were you before you came here?”

She hesitated. Could she lie to him? Tell him that she needed to be taken somewhere far away from here, that her family were waiting for her some hundreds of miles away? Would he believe it?

Suddenly, his face clicked with some recognition, and he tapped his finger against his chin. A slight breeze moved through the trees, brushing the hair back from his face for a moment.

“I heard tell of some Sassenach family staying near the McAllan keep,” he remarked. “That’s where ye’re from, isn’t it?”

She parted her lips, intent on protesting, but then she felt the wind drop out of her. Her head sinking to her chest, she nodded.

“Yes, it is.”

“Then you should get back there before the night falls,” he told her, jerking his head towards the road. “Come. I’ll take you myself.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as though struggling to make sense of why he would go out of his way to do something like this for her. She had faced so much struggle in these last few days, she could scarcely believe that someone would be intent on helping her in the way he seemed to be.

But she couldn’t trust him. Not a chance. Not after she had come so far. Before she could think twice, she bolted back towards the forest.

“Lass, dinnae be daft!”

His voice boomed after her, but she darted off between the trees, shivering, her frigid hair clinging to her back. She knew not where she was running.

“Ye’ll freeze out there…”

He tried to reason with her, but her legs kept moving, carrying her deeper into the woods, as she had when she had fled the inn earlier. Her heart was in her throat, and she cast a look over her shoulder at him.

“Stay away from me!”

But, as she turned, her foot caught on an exposed root, and she tumbled forward. He lunged for her, catching her in his arms before she struck a rock on the ground beneath her.

“Ye glaikit lass,” he snapped at her, pulling her back to her feet. He released her at once, his eyes narrowing, as though daring her to take off again.

And she could have fought him, she knew that much. She could have told him that she would be fine out here, that taking her back to what was waiting for her was a thousand times worse than leaving her out here in the woods to let the nighttime cold wrap around her frail body. But she could sense, from the way he was looking at her, that he would not have accepted it as an answer. He wouldn’t leave her out here. There was something in him that refused to allow her to slip through his fingers so easily, much like the stag that had lain at his feet a few moments earlier.

Slowly, she nodded, her gaze drifting to the ground. She longed for the words to tell him what was truly going on with her; that he would be taking her back to a nightmare she knew not when she would wake from.

Instead, he moved towards her, took her arm in his strong grip, and began steering her with confidence through the confines of the forest. He clearly knew the place well, and there was some part of her that was grateful for that, some part of her that was glad she didn’t have to try and survive here alone any longer.

Even if being by his side would cost her the little freedom she had left.