She’d had a close call, to be sure. Broc reminded himself how shaken she must feel when she returned to the camp he’d set up for them.

“You can rest there,” he advised, pointing to the saddle he’d propped up against a birch. “It’s not as good as a pillow, but it’s better under the head than the hard earth.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. “And there is plenty of food which Frances packed for us. Bread and cakes.”

His stomach rumbled in appreciation. “Aye. Ye had better take what ye want now, while I’m washing, or else you’ll risk my eating all of it when I get back.” He tried to sound cheerful, but it didn’t seem to matter to her just then.

Her modesty had been grievously injured, much more so than her body. He spied a few scrapes on her hands, which she’d likely earned while trying to gain a hold of the rocks beneath the rushing water. Otherwise, she appeared to be in fine shape.

There was a deeper pain than the physical, he knew. His heart went out to her, even as his irritation stirred. Why did she have to be so hard headed? This was the same lass who’d rushed into the barn with a dirk tucked into her garter, ready to free him and ride off on a horse which wasn’t hers.

And yet the fact that he’d made out the shape of her body caused her such terrible pain. He couldn’t make sense of it.

“I’ll go now,” he said, spying the last of the sun’s rays as the glowing ball sank beneath the horizon in a blaze of color, wishing to finish before it grew dark. “Rest here.”

She merely nodded, sitting on the saddle blanket which he’d spread before the tree.

What a strange lass. Like two different people in one body. She could be brave, almost recklessly so. She could stand up for herself against strangers. She could take great risks to save a stranger.

And yet, she had all but closed up on him. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Well, she had the right idea about at least one thing, whether or not she had intended to do so. He washed his tunic and trousers in the stream, crouching on the bank, before submerging himself in the cool water.

It was rather slick in spots. No wonder she’d fallen in.

He finished quickly, careful to keep his head dry so as to not disturb the poultice—that, plus the tincture, had provided great relief—and shook out his wet clothing before putting it back on. It would dry quickly enough while he sat before the fire.

How would she behave when he returned? Would she continue avoiding him? As though they had meant nothing to each other thus far?

He could almost feel the touch of her hand on his as they’d hidden in the cart, covered with straw. That very morning, he’d looked into her eyes and all but fallen under her spell. If given the chance, he would have declared his love for her then and there.

How had everything changed so suddenly?

He didn’t get the chance to ask, for she was fast asleep when he found her. She’d drawn half of the blanket over herself and was curled into a ball, as though even in sleep she felt the need to protect herself.

“Sleep, then,” he whispered, daring to reach out and stroke the hair which seemed to glow in the light from the fire. At least he could touch her in that simple way while she was asleep.

* * *

By the time they awoke, it was already well past dawn and into the morning.

Broc opened his eyes first, jumping in surprise when he realized he’d slept for hours and left them both vulnerable as a result. He hadn’t intended to do so, had only wished to rest lightly for a short while.

It seemed his body had other ideas.

Everything looked as it should, they’d gotten lucky. The fire had died out long since, and the horses chewed on grass around the base of the trees to which he’d tied off their reins. Even the remnants of the old woman’s cakes waited to be eaten. He’d saved what he could, knowing they’d both be hungry once they woke and fairly certain the lass wouldn’t take well to the idea of freshly skinned rabbit to break her fast.

It appeared as though she hadn’t moved an inch during the night, still curled into a ball on her right side, facing him. The blanket was still drawn up around her chin, as he’d been sure to leave it before closing his eyes, and the sounds of her soft snoring were as steady as they’d been hours earlier.

“Beatrice.” He covered the glowing remnants of the fire with dirt, stamping it down with his foot. “Beatrice. It’s time to move on.”

She stirred, letting out a groan of dismay.

He bit back a smile.

“What? It’s morning already? I didn’t hear…” she paused to let out a yawn. “…the rooster.”

She thought she was still on the farm. “We’re halfway to Silloth, lass. No longer in Thrushwood.”

She sat upright, eyes wide, hair a tangled mess about her face. She’d fallen asleep before it was dry, and it had stuck itself to her cheek, reminding him of the way she’d looked when he pulled her from the stream, in fact.

“It’s late,” she breathed.

“Not so very late, but we’d best be on our way and ride at a stately pace if we hope to reach Silloth tonight.”

“Yes, of course.” She sprang to her feet. “What can I do?”

He chuckled softly. “You can rest, and eat what’s left of the cakes. I was sure to leave some.”

“Oh.” Some of the frantic energy drained from her face as she looked down at the pile of sweets. “Thank you.”

“Did you really think I would leave you to go hungry in the morning?” He picked up the blankets, shaking them free of dirt and leaves. “We can always stop for something to eat around midday, if you wish.”

“Only if you think it’s a wise idea,” she murmured, chewing daintily. “And I wish to apologize for my behavior last night. I was very tired. I hadn’t slept in two nights.”

“You hadn’t?”

She shook her head when he looked at her over his shoulder. “No. So much has happened in so short a time, hasn’t it? The day before you arrived at the farm, Deacon Eddard had informed me of my impending marriage.”

“I see.” That would be enough to rob anyone of their sleep.

“And the next night, I spent at the manor house. I knew he’d…” She trailed off, staring out toward the stream. “I knew he’d taken you. I couldn’t sleep, knowing that.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. What could he say to thank her for what he’d done? What could possibly express his gratitude?

“I suppose it was a blessing, some divine inspiration which led me to visit the manor house when I did,” she suggested. “If I hadn’t, I would never have known you were there.”

“Aye, while Hugh and Derek believed me to be on my way to Silloth.”

“Why did they believe that?” she asked, wiping her hands on the cloth which Frances had used to wrap the food. “They never told me.”

He clenched his teeth, knowing she deserved an answer but wishing just the same to avoid giving it. “I told them I was going to take you to Silloth. I wrote a letter, explaining why I was going to do it. Neither of them agreed with me, of course, when I suggested we… kidnap you.”

Silence descended between them, and he turned away to check his horse’s saddle to avoid having to look at her. She deserved the truth, didn’t she? Though perhaps he should’ve kept it to himself until they reached the ship.

At first, he thought she was weeping. He turned with a sinking heart, dreading what he was about to face.

Instead, to his surprise, she was doubled over in laughter.

“You were going to kidnap me? To take me away?” A fresh burst of laughter and she doubled even further.

“I don’t know what’s so funny about that, lass.”

“You… oh, goodness… I’m sorry,” she laughed, waving her hands, losing her breath. “It’s just that… so much has happened, and… It isn’t funny, not really. Why am I laughing?”

He shook his head as she continued to giggle helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I honestly do not know.”

It took several minutes for her to get herself under control, and even then, a small burst of laughter would erupt now and again. “I’m sorry,” she said again, struggling to compose herself. “Truly. I understand why you wanted to do it, of course. It’s only that I can hardly imagine you managing to kidnap me and keep me quiet.”

“Hmph.” He turned away again. “You’re right. I don’t know how I would have managed that part.”

She truly was the strangest lass.