“The truth is, the Highlands laugh at ye. They laugh at the boy who found himself in power. They laugh at the lass ye dragged back to play yer lady.”
Alasdair’s jaw tightened, rage coursing through his blood.
“‘Tis one thing to insult me,” he started, his voice clear. “But if ye come for me wife, I cannae promise what will happen to ye.”
The archer merely laughed.
Alasdair could see it in his eyes. The man knew there was nowhere to run. He knew it was over, and this was him trying to get in his last licks.
“She heals yer men and thinks it makes her belong. She belongs to no one. Least of all to ye. Ye’re better off letting yer men share her.”
Alasdair swallowed, his sword now drawing blood. He just needed a reason to apply more force. “Careful now. Lilyisa lady. Say her name.”
The man sneered. “Yer wench?—”
The blade plunged.
The scream died in the man’s throat as steel tore through flesh, and his blood splashed hot across Alasdair’s face. He shuddered, twitched, and then went still. The forest fell silent except for the sound of Alasdair’s breathing.
He pulled the blade free with a long hiss, his hand shaking. The clouds had grown heavier, and the scent of rain drifted through the air.
He pushed himself to his feet. He could feel his chest rise and fall like a war drum as he used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his eyes. He turned back and headed to Lily.
She stood stiff, her skirts clutched in her fists, and her face pale. When he broke through the trees, she ran to him.
“Alasdair,” she breathed, reaching out and pausing when she saw his wound. Her eyes widened. “Yer arm. Ye are bleeding.”
He caught her hands in his. “We must go,” he said, his voice hard. “The storm is near.”
She shook her head and glanced up at the dark sky. “Ye and I both ken that it never rains this time of year.” Her eyes dropped back to his arm. “Let me treat it. At once.”
“Lily—” he began.
“Sit,” she ordered, her tone firm.
He let out a low groan, weary and stubborn, then gave in and sank to the earth.
Her hands were steady as she cut a piece of cloth from her dress and pressed it against the wound. His jaw clenched at the sting. Her hair brushed his cheek as she leaned close.
The sky rumbled above them once more.
Lily pressed the cloth even harder against his wound, her hands quick and steady. His arm burned as she dabbed at the cut, and he winced in pain.
“Stay still,” she ordered. “I have treated babies with a higher pain threshold.”
He let out a low grunt. “That man would have killed ye if ye were here alone. I just saved yer life, lass. I think I deserve a little credit.”
She did not look up. “Ye will get credit later. But nae now.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Is that a promise?”
Her eyes rose for a moment, sharp and cutting. “Can ye keep yer mouth shut so I can focus?”
He tilted his head, the smile lingering on his lips. “Ye ken, ye can boss me around here as much ye like. I find it incredibly attractive. But in the castle, ‘tis the other way round. In the castle,Ido the ordering.”
Her lips curled into a smirk. “Aye, ye have said so many times already that I belong to ye. But we both ken that is nae true.”
“Oh, really?”
