Page 24

“As I said, I can wash them. I brought a few pairs of each.” She rummaged through the bag, pulling the pants out first. She held a pair up to her waist, tilting her head. “Not bad. You guessed well.” Then the shirts of the T, plus a few with sleeves. And a loose-fitting one with silver buttons and a cowboy-style yoke. Her snort rang out. “I feel like I’m about to join a Wild West show.”

I shifted my boots on the floor, not sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Beth smiled, shaking her head. “It works.”

Relief settled in my chest, far too deep and warm for something as simple as her liking what I’d purchased for her. I swallowed against the ridiculous hope pressing up my throat. It didn’t matter if she looked perfect in everything, or if every part of me wanted to tell her I was sure she would. Words like that would not be welcome fromme, not when she’d been running to escape being trapped with a male.

“I think you look wonderful, Beth.”

It slipped out before I could stop it. The truth of it was raw and too easy to say. It was a mistake. But she smiled, and my heart lurched like a fool’s, already chasing something it couldn’t have. I wanted to freeze this moment. Keep it with me for when she was gone.

Because shewouldbe gone. In a few short weeks. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

I could ask her if she’d ever consider staying in Lonesome Creek. I could tell her what I felt. But I wouldn’t. Because she'd already spent her entire life being pushed into doing things she didn’t want, and I refused to be another man forcing her to do anything.

I’d never tell her. Even if everything in me pulled toward her, I would never give her another reason to feel trapped. She'd already had too many chains wrapped around her life. I wouldn't be another.

“I look wonderful?” she said, looking down. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Beautiful.” Amazing. I’d never feel the same about anyone else.

Color rose into her cheeks, and she dragged her gaze from mine, as she should. “That’s sweet of you to say, Ruugar. Thank you.”

To keep from howling from the turmoil churning through my chest, I retrieved a pack from my closet and placed it beside the bag of clothing. “For your things.”

She reached across the table for the pack, and for astupid, foolish second, my fingers nearly brushed hers—almost an accident. Almost not. I jerked my hand back, my pulse pounding a wild rhythm in my throat.

She studied me like she could read the cluttered mess in my head. I hoped not. Even that would settle another weight on her shoulders, so I couldn’t tell her how much I wanted to sit with her. Hold her hand. Kiss her.

I clenched my jaw, but it had to be said. It was now or never.

“Are you sick?” I blurted out.

Beth froze before she squared her shoulders. “Why would you ask that?”

“They’re saying you are.”

Her fingers tightened around the pack. “Bradley and my father, you mean.”

“They told everyone that you need medicine, that you’ll get worse without it.”

For a second, she only stared at the things I'd purchased for her in town. Her breath left her in a whoosh. “That lying—” She huffed. “Of course they would say something like that. They'll lie to get people on their side.”

I searched her face for any hint of deception. I'd swear that she wasn’t hiding anything. She was angry. Deeply, quietly furious.

“You believe them?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“No, not really.”

“Not even a little?”

“I was frightened for you. Worried. But I didn't think you'd lie about something like that.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her lips together but nodded. The tension between us eased, though something unreadable lingered in her eyes. Her swallow went down hard. “This is unbelievable. They’ll say anything to make me look incapable, like I need them. To draw sympathy from those looking for me.” She flung her shoulders back. “They suck. I hate them.” The frustration in her voice made my chest tighten. I knew what it felt like to be controlled, to have others decide your future without a second thought about what you might want instead. Orc traditions weren’t so different. Some of us were born to be warriors but they became farmers, smiths, traders. They did what was needed. No one asked if they dreamed of something else. No one questioned the way things had always been.

Beth wanted to be free, and she deserved that.

If I was someone else, born into something better, a person who could give her more than an open field and campfires, maybe then… I shoved that useless thought down, buried it deep where it couldn't torment me.