Page 14 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

C ohen’s anger at Arya for joining them was short-lived when he saw the white wolf stalking toward her. The brush was growing thin because it was winter, and so he could see the wolf well, padding softly across the needle-strewn forest floor.

He and his men were about fifty feet from Arya, and they were partially hidden by trees, so it was likely the wolf hadn’t yet seen them. Arya and her horse were standing on their own in a sort of clearing, and the wolf was alone too, and must have seen his chance.

Cohen’s pulse thudded in his ears as the fear for her safety filled him.

When she turned to look at the approaching wolf, he could see the fear in her face too, and it nearly broke him.

Arya was so strong, and she seemed impervious against anything like fear.

Even when her father hit her, she still had a stubborn look in her eyes.

But now, she was frozen in place, watching the wolf, and her empty bow hung useless at her side. Cohen wanted to move forward, but he too was unsure of what to do, fearful that any wrong moves would cost her life.

The wolf got even closer, and time seemed to stop. No one moved for a few painful seconds as the wolf kept its prey in its sight. Cohen was holding his breath, and then he heard to his left the twang of an arrow, and the moan of the wolf as the arrow sunk into it.

Another arrow sang through the air, and he saw that Arya had recovered enough to shoot it. After she let it fly from her bow, she was breathing hard, staring down at the wolf.

Cohen said, “Thank God, Malcolm. Ye shot it. Ye saved her!”

Malcolm shrugged, replacing his bow. “I ken that she is nae the enemy, Me Laird. She shouldnae die in such a way.”

The other men mumbled the same, and Cohen said, “Lead the men back on the hunt. I will take the lass back to the castle to keep her safe.”

“Aye, Me Laird,” Malcolm said, turning his horse and calling to the men to follow him. Cohen’s gaze darkened as he took in the breathless Arya, still staring down at the wolf.

He trotted up to her, trying to keep his anger about her lack of safety in check. “What in the bloody Hell are ye doin’?” he asked her, in a gruffer tone than he really intended, especially since she’d nearly been mauled to death.

Her eyes turned to his, and he swallowed, the longing for her grown to a perfect peak.

Her bright-blue eyes felt like they were staring into his soul, and her breath was a white curl in the frosty woods.

Her dark hair was tucked back under the hood of her cloak, and there were twin red marks upon her cheeks.

“I believe ye already asked that, and I told ye. Out joinin’ in the hunt, since ye didnae believe me that I could.

That I had any skill at all to show.” She was still lifting her chin in defiance, and her hand still gripped confidently around her bow, but he could see the fear in her eyes.

The way that the incident with the wolf had surprised her.

“Fine then. Well, now we return to the castle.”

“What? Why?” she asked, her eyes turning from him to the wolf.

He lowered his voice to a near menacing growl. “I think ye already ken why. Ye nearly died, and I willnae have ye die when there are ways I can protect ye.” He adjusted his words slightly when he saw the angry flare in her gaze. “Ways we can protect each other.”

Clearing his throat, he turned his voice toward the way out of the forest. “I think ye were right. We should both remain in the castle where it is far more likely that we willnae be captured and returned to yer faither’s dungeons.

Being outside is the perfect way to expose ourselves for another kidnapping.

That is how I was taken last time, anyway.

So, let’s go back. We will drink wine and forget about huntin’. ”

He waited, his hands on his reins, not daring to look too much at her. He hoped that his calm tone was deceiving her that he agreed with her earlier words, and that he was not burning with anger inside. After a few seconds, Arya made a satisfied grunt in her throat.

“Excellent. Finally, ye are heedin’ what I say,” she said, and she started trotting out of the woods with him at her back.

He bit back his retort but was content to remain silent until they returned to the castle.

He would let her know then just how she was behaving, and how it would do very well to get her killed whether by nature or by her father’s men.

They were still silent as they returned their horses to the stables and walked back together toward the castle.

It was growing darker and colder now, and Cohen was still seething.

He was known as a fearless and powerful laird, and he was always able to fight back against his enemies, but Arya was a new animal.

She made him angry in a way that he’d never experienced before. While he was angry with her, he wanted to yell at her, to protect her, and to kiss her all at once. It was infuriating, and it made him feel like he was completely out of control.

Inside the castle, he rubbed his hands together, glad to feel the warmth from fires so that the blood could move back into his hands.

He removed his cloak and coat and handed them to a waiting servant, and Arya did the same.

The color was still in her cheeks. He thought she’d never looked more beautiful, just coming in from the cold, her fingers moving to put stray hairs back in place.

“I will go to the library,” she said under her breath, and he kept pace with her.

“As will I,” he said defiantly, and she said nothing, only stiffened, until they were just inside the library doors, and Cohen shut them tight.

She took a few steps inside and then turned around her hands on her hips, accentuating their shape to his eyes as he tried to focus on his anger. “Why are ye followin’ me? I am nae some child to be protected as if I have nae mind at all.”

“Perhaps ye might be,” he returned in an angry voice, “since ye decided to follow us and nearly got yerself killed by a wolf because ye were nae with a group.”

“And whose fault is that?” she cried, her voice growing louder. “I was happy to join ye, but ye wouldnae let me. I kenned that ye werenae tellin’ the truth at the end there, when ye told me that I was right and that ye should have stayed in the castle.”

Cohen groaned aloud. “I daenae understand why ye cannae just dae as yer told. Nae all the time. Just at the times when it means that yer life could be protected. I wouldnae ken what to dae with meself if ye were hurt because I didnae work hard enough to protect ye.”

He stepped closer. He was still angry, and his anger was pulsing through him, but the need to protect her was still greater. He itched to reach out for her to make sure that she was truly well.

Arya didn’t seem moved by his protectiveness.

“Why should ye care so much about me well-being? I am nae yer responsibility. I am here of me own accord! Ye must just calm yerself and nae worry so much about me. I daenae ken what to dae with that worry. Nae one has worried about me like that before.” She turned and stomped to the hearth, and he followed her.

“Well, ye had better get used to it, Lass, because ye are here now, and because ye are a guest in me castle, that makes ye me responsibility, nae matter if ye were a man or a woman.”

That was only partially true, but he needed to convince her, not just himself, that his care for her wasn’t growing into something dangerous.

“There is somethin’ more,” he said, stepping just a little bit closer.

They were both standing in front of the fire now, and he could feel the warmth on his legs.

He swallowed, looking into her eyes. “It is nae just about yer safety, Lass. It is about what yer faither may dae to ye in order to get to me.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “What dae ye mean?”

“I mean that he may think there is some…feelin’ between us.

And if one of me men is at fault for informin’ yer faither of me whereabouts, then they might give him that impression.

” Arya blushed, and he knew it wasn’t just from the heat of the fire.

“So, yer faither may wish tae entrap ye in order to get me to dae whatever he wants. Whatever he wanted to dae with me in the first place.”

His body was fully warm now, all cold from the outside completely forgotten. Right down to the very tips of his fingers it was warm, and it was more than just the fire. It was Arya, her fiery presence, her beauty, her wit. It called to him, begging him to listen to the draw.

She cleared her throat. “I cannae believe that anyone would think that,” she said with a little sharpness, but it was slowly fading. “That there is…feelin’ between us.” She took a breath to speak again, and Cohen realized he’d had enough, and he pulled her close, his hands on her arms.

It was coming soon, another kiss, and she couldn’t deny how much she wanted to feel him again against her. She had thought too much about it since it happened.

Angrily, he asked, “Will ye just be quiet for a moment, Lass?” And then, he pulled her to him, his mouth crushing hers.

A beautiful warmth spread from Arya’s mouth to her arms to her stomach.

Everywhere. She was perfectly and wonderfully warm, and it wasn’t just the fire heating her legs that had her skin prickle with heat.

There was no hesitation on her part now.

Instantly, she gave into his kiss, sinking into his embrace.

The heat in her body increased when she heard his groan of satisfaction as his mouth begged her to open to him.

She had no experience, no way of knowing how to kiss a man, but her body responded as if following an ancient rhythm.

She turned her head and opened her mouth, and she felt the gentle touch of his tongue against hers.