Moira’s mind raced.

How could she escape him when he would be aware of every breath she drew? He would never let her out of his sight, she was certain of it.

He might even bind her, tie her to him, demand she remain at his side no matter where they rode.

And now that she had brought about his fury and the bitter resentment of wounded pride, he would never treat her well. Any tenderness that might have come about had already died.

Dead before it had the chance to bloom.

She touched her forehead to the mare’s soft neck, a wave of regret mixing with bitterness. He thought he could command her, force her into riding to Ben Macdui.

He was wrong.

No man told her what to do.

She closed her eyes. No man tells me what to do. No man.

Not even him. Not even one who she might have grown to…

“Are ye finished, or are ye merely wasting more of my time?”

Rather than finch beneath his cold, brutal voice, she stiffened her back as she always had while suffering indignities at her father’s hand. “I am prepared, but I must know where we go.”

For if he truly meant to take her to Luthais Campbell, she would break loose the moment she was in the saddle.

There might be no other chance.

“She thinks she deserves an explanation,” he snorted, walking the gelding to where Moira stood. It did little to ease the growing tightness in her throat that he was so much larger than her when on horseback.

The difference was difficult enough when his feet were on the ground.

Regardless, she drew herself up to her full height—what there was of it. “I do, as I shall make the ride with you. I doubt you need me to explain that I have no wish to pay a call on your uncle.”

“There is no need to explain,” he assured her.

He was so angry.

A man such as he might prove quite dangerous when angry. She had no desire to find out just how dangerous.

And yet it was too late to avoid his anger.

“There is no way to put the egg back in the shell,” she whispered.

He blinked; for a moment, the angry mask his face had become slipped, revealing his confusion. “What did ye say?”

She hadn’t expected to say it, and any explanation would sound foolish—even so, she replied, “Something I taught my brothers, years ago. Once an egg’s shell is broken, there is no hope of replacing the egg inside and sealing it up again.”

“And?”

“And that was what I remembered now. I thought to myself that I did not wish to incur your anger, that you might prove dangerous, but it is too late for such considerations. Your anger has already stirred.”

“I see.”

She took a deep breath, holding steady to the mare’s bridle in an attempt to keep herself fully upright as her knees all but knocked together. Kin Reid had never inspired such terror, the sort which soured the inside of her mouth and made sweat roll down the back of her neck.

He had been a beast, but one she’d learned to live with.

She had not cared much for him since she’d been a child, either, which also helped. Otherwise, his treatment would have hurt doubly rather than simply leaving bruises and scratches which faded without fail.

But this man? She did not care for him.

So why did the thought of him hating her leave her feeling sick and broken?

He took a deep breath. “If ye must know, I have no intention of taking ye to my uncle.”

Her heart all but soared. If her feet had left the ground and her body had floated above the trees like that of a bird, it would have seemed natural. “Truly?”

The quaver in her voice gave away her deep gratitude.

“Aye,” he replied, still as angry as ever. “For I would rather swallow fire than marry ye.”

“Something we can agree on.”

He pressed his lips together, cheeks expanding. Then opened his mouth to allow a hearty laugh to escape. “Now that we’re of like mind, let us go. Now. I wish to distance us from the rest of your escorts.”

“Had you explained that from the first, we might already be on our way.” She mounted the mare in haste, then followed him at a trot from the site, to the road beyond.

He looked back and forth, up and down, watching. She held her breath. When he signaled for her to follow, she turned left with him and trotted at his side.

They would not go to Ben Macdui. He would not deliver her to the Campbells.

He did not wish to marry her.

It was a relief, naturally. She told herself it was.

So long as he did not expect to trap her in a life of servitude, she would follow him as far as he would allow.

For now, it was more dangerous than ever to travel alone. If any of the Reid men found her, the next time, they would know she had escaped again. They would show no mercy.

She needed Fergus more than ever. He knew it, like as not, the rogue.

They rode in silence with only the moon to guide them. More than once did her stomach grumble in protest, and she wished she might have found the venison edible. There was no telling how long they would continue before stopping to rest.

It mattered not. They would be free. She would be free.

“Might I ask you something?” she whispered after they had traveled untold miles. The moon was much further along in its path across the sky then, the singing of the crickets and frogs down by the riverbank all but deafening at that time of night. Overheard, bats sometimes flapped to and fro, capturing insects.

“So long as ye vow not to argue. I dinna think I have the energy to fight ye now,” he grunted.

“I merely wished to know if you do not wish to marry anyone, or if it is only me.”

He snorted. “And I thought ye were smarter than other women. In the end, ye are all the same.”

“If you have not the energy to argue, you might do well not to insult me.”

He snorted but nodded. “Aye. Ye make a fair point. I ought not behave so. To answer the question, it is all marriage in general which I have no desire to entangle myself in. It makes some happy, I’m certain, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, in fact, but it is not for me.”

This soothed her ruffled feathers a bit.

“You were no more willing to marry me than I was to marry you, then.”

“Aye.”

“Your uncle arranged things without your knowledge, I expect.”

“Aye.” This was a growl.

“You are not fond of him, I suspect.”

“Ye never cease impressing me with your wisdom.”

“I’ve heard he is not an easy man to know.”

“I do not know him,” he clarified. “I have only spoken with him a handful of times in my life. He wishes to align with your clan, but his sons are already wed, and my brother and I are his only nephews. Brice took a wife, leaving me.”

He sounded so terribly unhappy. She could not help but feel for him, though her situation had not been much better. At least he had been able to avoid the man he disliked.

There had been little avoiding her father.

“You had already heard of my escape when we met, then,” she reasoned. Was this a wise observation? Should she perhaps not mention it?

“Aye. I ought to thank ye for taking the trouble. Otherwise, we might already have exchanged vows.”

She gaped at him. “You would have gone along with it?”

“Hell, I dinna know,” he snarled. “I would not have wanted to, I can assure ye. I might have made things difficult. Nay, I’m certain I would have.”

“Well, then? How can you say we might well have wed by now?”

Hot, angry words burst forth. “It was not only me! There ye have it, lass. Now ye know. I had more than just myself to think about.”

For a long time, all she could hear was the jangling of the bridles, the beat of hooves against earth. And his breathing, heavy and hard.

What did he struggle with?

He’d made it sound up to that point as though there was no one in his life. A married brother, nothing more.

“I am sorry, for whatever weighs on you,” she dared whisper.

“It does not weigh on me. It might have, had ye not made your escape and freed us both.”

“I did not know you felt as you do about marriage. I could not have known,” she mused. “I thought you might have been part of the reason the arrangement came to be. That you agreed to it.”

His head snapped around, their eyes meeting. “Is that why you’ve behaved as ye have to me? Like everything I say is a chance to argue? Because ye thought I was part of the plan to force ye into marriage?”

“Oh, not at all. I simply enjoy arguing.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of their laughter blending together in the first truly honest moment they’d shared since the afternoon in the cave.