The rest of that day was spent there, in the woods, while Fergus rested and regained his strength after losing so much blood.

By the time Quinn and Rodric returned with the boar’s meat to roast over the fire, Fergus’s color was still wan, his voice still without the energy it normally held. But he seemed in good spirits, even joking with Quinn that he could no longer boast about being the only one to kill a boar.

How he could laugh about such things, so soon after what he’d narrowly escaped, was beyond Alana’s understanding.

But then it seemed a great many things were.

She kept a close watch on him, quick to offer her services whenever it seemed he might be in the least bit of discomfort. She brought him water, washed the dried blood from his skin, even offered to take his bloodied tunic to the stream they’d set up camp beside.

“I do not mind,” she insisted. “You should not sleep in a tunic crusted over with blood.”

“The lass makes a point,” Brice agreed, kneeling beside his brother. “And the sooner it’s washed, the sooner it will dry. And you won’t have to sleep in a cold, wet tunic tonight.”

It was clear Fergus did not possess the strength with which to argue, so he allowed his brother’s assistance in removing the ruined tunic. Alana turned her back for modesty’s sake, her cheeks flushing.

“I’ll go with ye,” Brice announced, balling up the torn tunic in one hand.

“I can go alone.”

“Do ye really believe we’d leave ye alone now?” Brice raised an eyebrow.

She blushed worse than ever but offered no reply. There was nothing worth offering. She merely walked to the stream, its banks close enough to their camp that she might throw a stone from the campfire and hit the water.

Brice sat, arms over his bent knees, while she slipped behind a nearby grouping of spindle trees to remove her stockings in semi-privacy. He did her the favor of staring straight ahead rather than watching her.

The water of the stream was cool and fresh, the stones slippery beneath her feet. She had been bathing and even playing in the streams which ran along either side of her ancestral home for as long as she could remember, so the threat of falling caused her no worry.

With her back to the current, she bent at the waist and submerged the tunic. As if by magic, the water flowing beyond the cloth turned dark red.

A lump formed in her throat. It was her fault. Entirely hers.

Judging from Brice’s stare, the fact that he would not speak to her unless spoken to, he agreed with her assessment.

Careful to keep her eyes on her work, she murmured, “I’m sorry. It was my fault, and I know it. I would never be able to forgive myself if any of you had come to harm, or worse, on my account.”

“One of us did come to harm.”

She fought back the tears which prickled behind her eyes at his flat, accusatory tone. She deserved it—and much worse. “I know. And I am truly sorry. I wish there was a way to make you understand why I ran away.”

“I do understand. That does not mean I agree with ye.”

She dared glance over at him through lowered lashes. He looked as sullen as ever.

“We canna do what we want to do simply because we want to do it,” he continued, still gazing across the stream to the rows of lovely, delicate birch trees which spanned the bank. “When the lives of others are involved, we must consider them, too.”

“I’m not a soldier.” She stood, the dripping tunic hanging from one hand. “You accepted the task of delivering me to my fate without my agreement. Nay, without even my foreknowledge. I do not owe any of you anything.”

“Except gratitude for keeping you safe.” He turned his gaze to her.

“Of course, I do, now! I did not know there would be such danger.”

He grimaced in obvious disgust. “You would have if you gave anything more than a mere moment’s thought. If that.”

“I didn’t have time to give it thought!”

“And now we see where acting without thinking left you. And my brother, who might well have left you in that tree to perish. He’d at least have use of both of his arms now, and a tunic with two whole sleeves instead of one hanging in shreds.”

Her chin quivered as she searched for something cutting with which to reply.

Words failed her.

She went back to her work, plunging the tunic into the water and pulling it out again, beating it against one of the rocks, scrubbing the cloth together. It was as clean as it would get, but still, she worked.

Anything to keep him from seeing how she wept.

* * *

It wasn’t until after they’d eaten that Alana understood just how much humiliation she would be forced to suffer.

“You’re what?” she blinked, clutching the blanket to her chest as Brice settled in beside her.

“I’m sleeping here, at your side, from now on.” Brice placed his saddle on the ground, arranging it in such a way that he might use it to prop up his head. Not the softest pillow, but better than nothing.

“You’ll do no such thing,” she hissed, horrified.

“You have no say in the matter.”

“I don’t!”

He shook his head, lying down on his side to face her. “You gave up all say in such matters when ye nearly killed yourself and my brother today.”

“I told you how sorry I was for that.”

“Aye. I remember.”

“And how I will never try anything such as that again.”

“I recall that, as well.”

“Why, then?” she demanded in despair.

“Because I canna trust ye,” he replied. It was as simple as that.

Something ached deep inside her. Something she could not name or even locate. It caused a pressure in her chest, nearly hampering her ability to breathe.

She realized at that moment that she cared about what he thought of her.

“All right, then,” she whispered, turning away from him, stretching out on her side with one arm beneath her head. She no longer had a horse, which meant there was no saddle for her to use as he used his.

The thought brought another, even more terrible, realization to the forefront of her mind. She closed her eyes, wishing it were not so but knowing it was. “How will I travel from now on?” she asked, hoping to sound more confident than she felt. As though it mattered not.

He snorted hard enough that his breath stirred her hair. “You’ll ride with one of us, naturally. Now that you managed to frighten off that poor mare. It’ll starve in the woods, like as not.”

“Stop it,” she warned. Damn her voice for shaking.

“Stop what? Reminding you of what your selfishness did?”

“I do not need to be reminded.” She bolted upright to a sitting position, turning herself as she did to glare down at him with all the hatred boiling over in her heart. “You told me you were not an animal, but I believe you were lying. For only an animal would insist upon tormenting me this way. It is unfair.”

She turned away again, flopping onto the ground with a grunt. The others sat around the fire, talking in low voices. Fergus was looking better, which filled her with untold relief.

She’d never had a brother or sister—at least, none who’d lived past infancy. Their faces blended together, both girl and boy since babes looked the same at that age.

As she watched Fergus and thought about the man lying behind her, it was easier to put herself in Brice’s place. The way he behaved toward Fergus made it plain that he was the elder of the two.

His younger brother had come under attack, and it was all because a thoughtless young woman had behaved recklessly.

It wasn’t easy to remove her personal concerns from her thoughts as she tried to understand Brice’s side of things. What did he care that she would’ve rather died than become Earl Remington’s bride? It was none of his concern.

After they had delivered her, he would go back to his life. His life included his brother. Fergus would always be a priority, as would the others. And that meant more to him than her unhappiness.

These thoughts did not cause her any happiness, but they made it easier to lie with him behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her head slightly so her words might reach his ears. “I truly am. You’re correct; I was not thinking of anyone but myself, just as my unhappiness matters not to you. We’ve both got to live our lives when this is over, which means thinking about ourselves and those we care for.”

He was quiet long enough to leave her wondering if he’d even heard her. Was it possible he’d fallen asleep that quickly?

He sighed, stirring her hair again. “I never claimed that your unhappiness matters not, lass. It’s merely that there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing any of us can do. It isn’t our place to come in between your clan and this earl. As I said earlier…”

He trailed off.

She held her breath in anticipation of what he might say next.

“As I said earlier,” he repeated, “there are times in which we cannot think only of ourselves.”

She blinked. What did he mean?

Did he mean he’d rather not deliver her, knowing what it meant for her to marry this total stranger? Or simply that she ought to consider her clan and not only herself?

If it was the latter, there was less than no chance of her ever doing so. “My clan cares nothing for me; and as far as I am concerned, I am a Stewart in name only. Douglas Stewart all but cursed the day I was born prior to my leaving his unhappy household. Being away from him is the only uplifting point of this.”

She turned her head again, whispering over her shoulder. “Do not ask me to do what I’m doing for their sake, for I cannot force myself into believing something which brings only pain.”

He snorted softly. “I didna mean that, lass.”

Her heart soared, when all had seemed lost only moments earlier. He did care. He did not wish to deliver her.

While that wouldn’t stop him from performing his duty—after all, he was not her only escort—it meant he was more sympathetic than he’d let on. This was a good sign.

She did not respond, choosing instead to wriggle slightly as though she were adjusting herself for comfort’s sake.

“What are ye doing?” he muttered.

“Attempting to make myself comfortable enough to fall asleep. If you keep speaking, I won’t be able to do so.” She wriggled again, grunting softly as she did.

“And if ye insist on moving so, I will never be able to do so.”

“You might move away, then, and give me greater space. I will not disturb you then.”

He snickered. “So you might believe. I can tell you, it wouldn’t be so. Not to mention, I intend to give you as little space as possible for the duration of our journey.”

She wriggled again, moving closer to him, and he growled.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I did not invite you to join me.”

It was a blessing that he couldn’t see her face, for it burned as though she’d lowered it to the fire. She would never have imagined using her body to tempt a man, especially not a man such as the one behind her. He was rough, coarse, a stranger.

A stranger who had saved her life.

It mattered not. He was still a man with whom she was unfamiliar.

His chuckle was dark, knowing, and it made her cheeks burn hotter than ever. “Aye, but never has there been a lass unhappy after having done so,” he murmured, humor plain in his voice.

“I am not one of those,” she murmured, torn between gladness at his turn in humor and humiliation. “I merely wish to get enough sleep before the sun rises.”

“As do I.”

“I bid you good night, then.” She closed her eyes with a smile, a new plan already forming itself.

It would mean turning her back on everything she’d ever learned about the behavior of young women such as herself. One who’d been raised well—if not lovingly, at least with all attempts made at preserving chastity.

What good was chastity when it meant being sold in marriage?

She moved again, shifting her hips slightly, and Brice groaned without uttering a word.

Her smile widened a bit just before she fell asleep.