When Callum is done with me, his spirits are higher than I think I’ve ever seen them. He announces that his appetite is simply too large for bread and cheese this morning, and he will hunt us something proper for breakfast.
After getting dressed, I sit on a rock and wait for him on the shore where we ate last night. I warm my hands by the fire we built before he left. I cannot fight the smile on my face.
I feel so different from the woman I was before I came to the Northlands. I am dirty and unbathed. I am wearing breeches. I can smell Callum on my skin. I am sore, and I do not know how that can be a good feeling, but somehow, it is. I feel... full. Content. Excited for the future. Excited for Highfell.
You’re free,the wind seems to whisper.You’re free.
I hear the crunch of pebbles close by, and I turn—not expecting Callum back so soon.
My stomach drops and I jump to my feet.
Two men in kilts are walking along the shore, fifty meters or so away. One of them looks right at me, and I recognize him. It’s Duncan, the male I met when I arrived at the castle. My blood turns to ice. They’re James’s men.
“Over there!” He points at me. “They’re still here! She’s over there!”
I turn, and I run.
Heavy footsteps pound after me.
I tear across the shore, then scramble up the rocks by our tent. I run as fast as I can over the sloping land, to the forest ahead where Callum went hunting. The shouts of the men behind me get closer.
“Callum!” I yell.
I run as fast as I can, bumping my shoulders against tree trunks as the forest gets deeper, darker. Thorns snag my shirt, and pine needles crunch beneath my boots.
“Callum!”
I trip over a fallen branch and go flying into the dirt. I scrape my hands and knees on stones and twigs that litter the floor.
Get up,the trees whisper.Get up.
I scramble to my feet, but it’s too late. Five men enter the clearing.
No. This can’t be happening.
I step warily back, and I hit something solid.
A strong arm hooks around my waist, and the familiar scent of the forest at night washes over me. My blood turns to ice. I buck against the male who holds me, but he merely tightens his grip.
He pushes a cloth over my mouth, and I smell something chemical that makes my eyelids droop.
No. No. No.
He dips his mouth to my ear. His tone is as dark and smooth as the shadows that surround us. “You should have run faster, little rabbit.”
Then, black.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’m cold. There’s something hard beneath me. The air smells like mildew. Somewhere, something is dripping.
“You should bathe her before you present her to him. She smells strongly of the Highfell wolf.” A deep, unfamiliar male voice rumbles through my fuzzy mind and makes my muscles harden.
“He’s territorial. It works in our favor.” This voice is familiar. Bored. A dark, smooth caress on my senses.
I force my eyes open, but I remain perfectly still. I do not know what is happening. I do not know where I am. I’m like a rabbit in a trap, trying to avoid attention from predators.
