Anna tried counting backward from one hundred. She tried envisioning sheep lazily walking across a Highland field. She tried slowing her breath, rolling onto one side and then the other, but naught worked.

When the inside of the wagon began to lighten with approaching dawn, she gave up on sleep altogether, for soon enough the man who’d been haunting her thoughts would be before her in actuality.

Part of her longed to lay eyes on Graeme, this time in the light of day rather than in twilight’s gloom. But another part of her dreaded it, for even their brief encounter last night had left her in shambles.

He was so dreadfully handsome. Aye, he was rough around the edges, but that only made him more alluring in her eyes. Last night, his sandy blond hair had been pulled back in its usual loose and messy queue at the base of his neck. He’d worn several days’ worth of scruff on his jaw, and his simple woolen cloak had looked rumpled with travel, as had his linen tunic and blue and green MacKay plaid.

With one lopsided grin, he could have set her knees to trembling, but instead, he’d been cold and harsh with her.

She couldn’t blame him. He knew not what was in her heart, nor what role her father had played in ending their communication and arranging for her engagement to Laird Munro.

A sliver of her—the foolish, silly, romantic girl that still lived in her heart—had hoped against hope that when the banns announcing her engagement to Laird Munro had been read, Graeme would come charging into the Highlands, demanding that the marriage be called off.

Even more ridiculously, she’d let herself imagine that he would sweep her away from the Ross keep and wed her himself. Kidnapping one’s bride wasn’t so preposterous an event in the Highlands. A wedding was a wedding, and Anna would take a kidnapping and a forbidden marriage that went against her father’s wishes if it meant she could marry Graeme.

Or so she had fancied, but those were the musings of a silly lass. In reality, Graeme hadn’t come riding to the Ross clan’s castle gates, demanding her and her alone. In reality, she’d acquiesced to her arranged marriage with Laird Munro, for it was best for her people. And in reality, Graeme now hated her for it.

Though it wouldn’t change aught, she at least owed him an explanation. Aye, she would still marry Laird Munro, for her clan was counting on this alliance. But if naught else, Graeme would know what was in her heart—that she loved him and had tried to accept his proposal.

Anna sat up and straightened her dress, making sure the two folded pieces of parchment were still in place over her heart. She quickly plaited her hair and pinched her cheeks to chase away the fatigue from a sleepless night. Then there was naught left to do but face the day—and Graeme.

Just as she pulled back the wagon’s flap, the patter of raindrops began to rustle the leaves and drum against the canvas.

The men of her retinue had apparently already begun to rise for the day, but as the rain rapidly grew heavier, they moved swiftly to break camp and saddle their horses.

She caught sight of Graeme’s blue and green plaid in the sea of red wool.

“Graeme,” she called over the increasingly loud rainfall.

He turned his emerald gaze on her, and she noticed that his eyes were tight with strain and shadowed with fatigue. Mayhap sleep had evaded him as well.

She opened her mouth to call him over in the hopes that they could catch a moment of privacy and she could explain things. Even before she could form the words, however, Graeme ducked his head against the rain and hurried on with his tasks, limping slightly.

Just then, Jerome stepped into her line of sight, cutting off her view of Graeme.

“Ye’d best ready yerself for the day’s travels, my lady,” Jerome said curtly. “This rain will only slow us down further. We’ll have a long day ahead.”

Barely repressing a shudder at the thought of not only another grueling, bumpy journey, but a wet one as well, Anna nodded.

It seemed as though she would be forced to wait to speak with Graeme.

 

*   *   *   *

 

Anna let her body sway with the motion of the wagon. The hammer of the rain against the canvas roof was nigh deafening, but at least she was dry inside.

It had rained nonstop all morning and through their brief midday break to rest the animals and take a small meal. Now that they’d resumed the trek, she knew the men were soaking wet and likely miserable atop their horses.

Suddenly, the wagon lurched sharply to the left. There was a loud snap and a rough jolt, and the back left corner of the wagon abruptly dropped downward by a foot.

A startled cry rose in Anna’s throat as she was tossed against the side of the wagon roughly.

“Shite!” someone snapped beyond the wagon’s canvas covering.

Anna righted herself and drew back one of the makeshift canvas window coverings. Hesitantly, she stuck her head out into the driving rain.

“Is all well?”

From the look on the face of the man sitting on the bench at the front of the wagon, it wasn’t. He peered back through the downpour at the left rear wheel. Anna followed his gaze.

Not only was the wheel deeply submerged in an enormous mud- and water-filled crater in the path, but the wheel had snapped and crumpled in half, leaving it more an oval than a circle.

“What happened?” Jerome barked, reining his horse around.

“I couldnae see the hole, what with all the mud and rain,” the wagon’s driver said apologetically.

Jerome muttered a curse. He glanced around at the other guards who were waiting for his order.

“If all the men put their shoulder to the back of the wagon, we could no doubt get it out of that hole,” Jerome said, frowning.

Graeme pulled his horse to a halt next to Jerome. “Aye, but we wouldnae be able to fix that broken wheel.”

Jerome glared darkly at Graeme, but Graeme was right from what Anna could see.

Breathing another curse, Jerome seemed to make up his mind. “We’ll leave the wagon behind. Dennis, ye and Keith share Keith’s horse and ride back the way we came.”

Dennis, the driver of the wagon, mumbled discontentedly as he began to lower himself from the bench.

Keith, one of the younger guards, urged his horse forward. “Where are we to go?” He looked about at pleased as Dennis at the prospect of having to stay behind.

“An hour’s ride the way we came, there was a turn-off to Stirling,” Jerome replied. “Find someone who can repair the wagon and bring him to it. Then ye’ll take the wagon back to Laird Ross.”

“We could simply wait for a new wheel to be brought from Stirling,” Graeme said, his shoulders hunched in his cloak against the heavy rain.

“Nay,” Jerome snapped. “Laird Munro expects his bride to arrive a sennight after the final banns were read. It is my responsibility to see it done. I’ll no’ fail him.”

“And it is my responsibility to ensure Anna’s safety and wellbeing,” Graeme said tightly. “I’m sure yer Laird wouldnae want her traveling in these conditions.”

“We are sitting ducks for bandits and thieves out here,” Jerome shot back. “We cannae stay with the wagon. We must keep moving.”

Even from several paces away and through a curtain of rain, Anna could see Graeme’s jaw muscles twitch. “And how do ye propose that Lady Anna travel without the use of the wagon?”

Jerome thought for a moment. “Mayhap we can unhitch the mules from the wagon and she can ride one of those.”

Anna sucked in a breath. Graeme’s gaze darted to her before he leveled Jerome with a hard stare. “Ye’d have the future wife of yer Laird ride a mule. Without a saddle. Or a bridle. Through a storm.”

Jerome let out a frustrated noise. “Since ye seem to ken what no’ to do, what would ye suggest?”

Graeme scrubbed a hand over his dripping, stubble-covered chin. After a long moment, he exhaled. His gaze rose to Anna, and a jolt of awareness shot through her.

“She can ride with me.”

Anna gasped again, and Jerome shook his head sternly.

“Nay. One of the men can double up with someone, and she can have her own horse.”

Anna’s stomach knotted tight at the thought. She’d have to sit atop one of the enormous war horses the guards rode, by herself, and try to control such a large animal?

“Anna doesnae feel comfortable with horses,” Graeme said evenly before Anna could form an excuse that would save her from having to ride by herself.

He remembered. Warmth filled her chest at the realization that he not only recalled her discomfort around horses, but that he was trying to protect her from a frightening experience.

“It isnae…appropriate for Lady Anna to ride with ye,” Jerome said through clenched teeth.

“She has to ride with someone,” Graeme fired back.

Jerome opened his mouth to reply, but sensing that the disagreement was reaching its boiling point, Anna dove into the conversation.

“It is all right, Jerome. As Graeme says, I am no’ a strong rider. It would be best for me to ride with someone.” She pulled in a breath, steeling herself for the next words. They would hurt Graeme, but at least they would soothe Jerome’s wariness. “It might as well be Graeme. I am engaged to Laird Munro now, and riding with a man—any man—doesnae threaten or change that.”

Her gaze sought Graeme, and just as she feared, he flinched slightly, his bright green eyes darkening and his jaw locking.

“Verra well,” Jerome muttered, pulling her attention back to him.

Anna dropped the canvas flap and brought her head back into the shelter of the covered wagon. She glanced at the large wooden trunk at the other end. She would have to leave it here.

Thankfully, she hadn’t packed all her worldly possessions, as she’d expected to return to the Highlands not long after her wedding. She’d planned on sending for the majority of her clothes and keepsakes once she got settled on Munro land. Still, she wouldn’t be able to take the fine gown she’d planned to wear for her wedding.

Anna dug out a stout, plain cloak from the trunk and, after tucking a few of her most essential personal items into the cloak’s pockets, she drew back the canvas covering at the back of the wagon.

The ground looked very far away all of a sudden—and very muddy. She lowered herself to a seat on the edge of the wagon, stretching her toes toward the wet, churned path.

Just then she heard a grunt nearby and looked up. The other men still sat in their saddles, hunched against the rain—except for Graeme. He’d dismounted and was striding toward her, his limp pronounced.

Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and lifted her out of the wagon.

Inhaling in surprise, Anna’s arms looped around Graeme’s neck and her fingers sank into the wet wool over his shoulders. He moved slowly, and she could feel from the tension in his neck that he was fighting against his limp. Yet she did not fear that he would drop her, for his arms were strong and solid around her.

When they reached his waiting horse, he lifted her fully onto the animal’s back. With a soft grunt, he swung into the saddle behind her, settling her across his lap.

As the retinue, minus Dennis, Keith, and Anna’s wagon, began its journey southward once more, Graeme leaned close to her ear.

“Nervous?” His low voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Anna suddenly realized that her lips were pulled into a trembling smile.

“A-aye,” she murmured. “Because of the horse.”

In truth, she’d hardly noticed the huge bay steed beneath her, for all she seemed to be able to take in at the moment was Graeme.

His powerful thighs beneath her bottom.

His strong arms looped around her, holding her close.

His solid, warm torso, which bumped into her side with each of the horse’s steps.

“Graeme,” she said softly, looking up at him through the heavy rain.

His gaze dropped to hers, and behind his stone-hard green eyes, she saw a flicker of uncertainty. Of hurt. “Aye?”

“I…I need to explain myself,” she murmured. “This isnae what ye think.”

“Isnae it?” She saw his gaze flatten and sensed that her opportunity was slipping away.

“Nay,” she insisted, holding his stare. “Please, just hear me out. I ken I cannae change my fate now, or yers, but at least let me explain.”

A crack formed in his hard features as he searched her face. “Verra well,” he murmured at last. “But as ye say, it willnae change aught.”

Even as her heart sank at his cold tone, hope budded there as well. Aye, she may not be able to heal the wounds between them completely, but at least he would understand what had happened after she’d received his missive.

Just as she opened her mouth to explain, Jerome reined his horse from the front of the retinue to the middle where Anna rode with Graeme. Without a word, Jerome guided his horse alongside theirs, casting them a glance out of the corner of his eye.

It appeared as though Jerome planned to monitor them for the entire ride.

“Later,” Graeme said, so softly that it was barely a breath against her ear.

She tilted her head in a single nod, then turned her gaze ahead to the muddy, forested road ahead, praying for time to fly until she had an opportunity to speak with Graeme—alone.