Page 18 of The Laird's Masked Passion
“We wouldnae.”
She lay down again, feeling her cheeks hot in the dark. The branch remained beneath her hand. For a long while,she listened to him breathing steadily behind her, as though sleep were another thing that obeyed him. She refused to be comforted by it. She refused to let the measured sound become a barrier between herself and all those rustling leaves.
Yet, gradually, exhaustion crept over her like mist. Her thoughts loosened. Her fingers slackened around the branch. The burn outside murmured over stones. The scent of damp earth, smoke, pine, and Colin’s leather cloak blurred together, and despite terror, rage, and every excellent reason to remain awake, Elspeth slept.
Then, she woke with his weight over her. Panic struck before thought. A hard hand covered her mouth, sealing the cry in her throat. His body pressed hers down with unyielding necessity. In the blackness, she knew only the size of him, the heat, the terrible strength, and for one wild moment, every warning her mother had given her returned with such force that Elspeth began to fight.
His mouth came close to her ear.
“Quiet,” he whispered. “Someone is outside.”
The words cut through terror. Elspeth froze. Only then did she hear it. It wasn’t the ordinary murmur of trees, the water, or the settling fire. It was a footstep, soft, careful and too deliberate to belong to any fox or bird.
Colin lifted his hand a fraction from her mouth. His weight eased, though he did not move away entirely.
“Dinnae scream,” he breathed.
She shook her head once. His hand left her. Cold air touched her lips where his palm had been. She hated that she noticed.
Colin reached beside the blankets and placed something into her hand.
A dirk.
The hilt settled against her palm with a familiarity she had not meant him to see. His eyes narrowed faintly in the dark. Elspeth closed her fingers around it.
“If anything goes wrong,” he whispered, “ye run for the burn. Follow it east until ye reach the road. Dae ye understand?”
She nodded.
“Dinnae wait fer me.”
That, strangely, angered her more than the danger.
“Hold the blade low,” he murmured. “Strike up if ye must.”
“I ken.”
His gaze sharpened again, but there was no time for questions. Another sound came from outside, nearer now. Colin moved toward the tent flap without another word, silent as a shadow despite his size. Elspeth remained where she was, with one hand gripping the dirk, and the other reaching blindly until her fingers found the branch.
A blade in one hand and a stick in the other… it was not how she had imagined her wedding night.
But then, Elspeth thought, staring into the dark after her husband, very little about marriage had proved as advertised.
CHAPTER SIX
Colin left the tent as silently as canvas and darkness permitted. Behind him, Elspeth remained awake. He could feel her attention like a blade at his spine.
He slipped into the trees, keeping low where the branches thickened and the moonlight broke itself into pale fragments on the wet ground. The fire had burned down to a dull red eye beneath ash. Beyond it, the burn moved over stone with a soft, ceaseless murmur that might hide one careless footstep, but not two.
There, he noticed a shift in the dark. The woods held their breath around him. Damp leaves brushed his shoulder. He drew his blade without sound and moved around the camp in a wide arc, placing each step where moss would swallow it.
Whoever watched them had come from the west. This was a man who knew how to approach unseen, or one very lucky fool. Colin personally did not believe in luck.
Another sound came. Colin’s grip tightened. His mind measured distance, paths and numbers. One man visible did not mean one man present. The first blade was often only bait for the second.
He angled himself behind a rowan, waited, then moved. A shadow detached itself near the burn. Colin stepped from the trees and set the point of his blade beneath the man’s jaw before the stranger could turn. The man froze.
Then, he spoke. “I hoped marriage might improve yer temper.”
