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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T he wind was sharp on her cheeks, like hundreds of piercing needles. The tall, green grass swayed under a steel sky, clouds gathering over her head as she strolled down the path.

Next to Valora, Arrow was an ever-loyal presence, following in her footsteps.

His fur rustled against the grass and his soft barks at anything he found interesting—a stick, a bug, a fallen feather on the ground—echoed in the emptiness around them, joining the howl of the wind.

Below, the sea waged war against the rocks, waves crashing over and over on the side of the cliff, the faint line where the ocean met the sky, the great, endless blue, the sprawling green.

Her lands were beautiful, full of meadows and running rivers and glittering lakes, but never before had Valora seen such great beauty.

So absorbed was she in the vista in front of her that she almost didn’t hear the footsteps that approached her. She turned around to see Torrin there, slowly approaching her down the path.

He was freshly bathed and dressed after his sparring session, his dark hair still damp. The afternoon light, cold and gray and diffused by the clouds, cast a tender light over his features, softening them into something almost boyish, something that hid the years of battles and strife.

It was an odd look on him, but not one Valora disliked. She sometimes wondered what Torrin had been like as a younger man, when he had first stepped into adulthood—had he been as serious as he was now?

Did he use tae have a softer demeanor, a different approach when he was young?

She feared she would never know.

"What are ye daein’ out here all alone?" Torrin asked, brow furrowed. "It’s dangerous fer ye tae be alone."

"I wished tae see the view," Valora said. "An’ I’m still very close tae the castle. I dinnae see why it would be dangerous."

Torrin only gave her a cryptic look as a response. Though he said nothing on the matter, Valora could tell there was something bothering him—something that she doubted he would share with her even if she asked, and so she didn’t bother.

After a few moments of silence, during which an almost suffocating tension began to grow between them, weighing down the air around Valora, Torrin asked, "Would ye like tae see an even better view?"

For a moment, Valora was taken aback. It took her a few seconds to respond, nodding softly, as she was far too stunned by the unexpected offer to speak.

Reaching for her hand, Torrin laced their fingers together and pulled Valora up a fork in the path, towards a small hill that stretched towards the south.

There, the tall grass gave way to trees and a line of them stood tall near the path, surrounding it.

Once they reached that line, Torrin led Valora towards one of the taller trees, its branches reaching so far into the sky that they seemed to touch it. For a moment, she hesitated, giving him a dubious look.

What is it that he wants from me? Surely, it cannae be what I am thinking…

"Are ye ready?" he asked.

"Fer what?"

"Tae climb."

It was precisely what she was thinking. Though she had never been one to fear dirtying her hands or doing reckless things, climbing a tree seemed particularly reckless and daunting to her now, the mere thought of it giving her vertigo.

The leaves swayed in the wind, and so did the upper branches, thin as they were, making the tree resemble a toppling tower that she would rather avoid at all costs.

"It’s alright," Torrin promised her, perhaps sensing her hesitation. It wasn’t difficult—she was pallid, a bead of sweat running down her temple. "I’ll be right here with ye. An’ trust me, ye will enjoy the view very much."

Valora was still hesitant to say the least. She looked at Torrin’s hand wrapped around hers dubiously once more, brows knitting together with concern, but when she glanced up at his face, she found nothing but a calm certainty that gave her the courage she needed.

He would catch her. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t let her go, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

Nodding once more, Valora looked up at the green canopy, squinting against the dappled light.

It was darker there, the shadows on Torrin’s face once again making him look severe, but there still seemed to be a softness to him that was inherent, as though being outside the castle had brought a different self out of him.

It cost a lot to be a laird. Torrin was scarred by the battles he had fought—not only his body, but also his mind. Responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders, but there was something else about him that Valora couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Something was surely wrong; she just didn’t know what that was.

Shaking those thoughts out of her head, Valora watched Torrin instead as he grabbed onto the lowest branch—a thick, calloused piece of wood that had to have been growing for decades, if not centuries.

With ease, he hauled himself up onto the branch, holding onto the one above it with one hand as he offered the other to her.

"Come," he said. "Dinnae fash, I’ve got ye."

And Valora believed him.

Reaching for his hand, she gripped it tightly, and let Torrin haul her up to the branch, which was no easy feat.

Her dress was long and layered, the skirts threatening to catch on every small twig along the main branch.

The fabric tangled around her legs, twisting and folding between her calves as she tried to reach him, but his sheer strength was enough to pull her up and place her firmly onto the branch, which didn’t so much as creak under their combined weight.

For a moment, they both paused and stared into each other’s eyes.

Valora could hardly look away from him, from those gray eyes that were like a mirror to the sky above.

They were so close to each other that Valora could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the heat of his gaze on her skin like a physical touch.

But before either of them could make the first move, Torrin pulled back abruptly, clearing his throat.

Then, he reached for the next branch, hauling himself up before he helped Valora climb, too.

Like that, they made their way up the tree, Torrin leading and Valora following him, letting him help her along the way.

"Are ye alright?" he asked as they reached the middle of the tree. "Dae ye need tae stop?"

Valora shook her head. "Nay. I’m alright, dinnae fash."

"Nae too high fer ye?"

Torrin’s tone was teasing, but when Valora looked down, vertigo gripped her once more. For a moment, she swayed on the branch where she stood and Torrin had to steady her with a hand on her waist, keeping her feet solidly on the tree.

"Is it too high fer ye?" he asked, his voice now tinted with concern.

Valora shook her head. Once the initial panic and surprise at the height she had reached subsided, she was left looking at the view through the branches in awe.

They hadn’t even reached the top yet, but the view was more stunning than anything she had ever witnessed before—an endless sky and a vast sea stretching into the horizon, meeting like long-lost lovers, the castle with its glinting stones in the distance, the green grass on the meadow that swayed like the ocean waves in the wind.

The sight of it took Valora’s breath away and for a while, all she could do was stare in silence, breath catching in her throat.

"It’s so bonnie."

"Aye," said Torrin, but when Valora turned to face him, he was at her, not the view.

All the views in the world couldn’t make Torrin take his eyes off Valora. Her auburn hair resembled the blaze of a fire, one that could keep Torrin warm in the cold days or threaten to burn him with its intensity.

Either way, he would consider it a bliss.

When their eyes met, his breath stopped and so did his heart, his chest aching with a feeling he had never had before.

It was akin to fear—a sharp, heavy sensation—but unlike in times of fear, now it was accompanied by a warmth that seemed to spread through him at a mere touch, at a mere glance from her.

It was more than desire. It was more than he dared to name.

Before he could do something foolish, Torrin pulled himself up to the next branch, climbing higher and higher and pulling Valora along with him, until they both reached the uppermost branches that could still hold their weight.

Then, he leaned against the trunk of the tree, gazing into the distance, one of his hands steadying Valora by resting on the small of her back.

They were quite a distance from the ground, and Torrin couldn’t help but be impressed by that.

Though he knew plenty of women who could climb a tree with as much ease as any of his soldiers, none of them were noble-born.

To see Valora climb up with him so fearlessly, trusting him to hold her when she faltered and not let her fall sparked something within him—a desire to protect her even more fiercely, to keep her safe no matter the cost.

And that was why he didn’t think he could tell her about the auction.

She deserved to know—that much was true.

She and every other woman in that auction deserved to know they had been taken there to be sold off to the highest bidder, to be used as currency, as cattle.

But every time he was close to telling her the truth, he would take one look at her and decide it was better to keep it a secret, to spare her the pain.

She never had to know. She could simply live the rest of her life thinking Torrin had won her hand by being the best match for her, not the one who had paid the most gold to have it.

Even if the guilt of keeping that secret ate him alive.

As they stood there in silence, Torrin felt Valora shiver under his hand. Shrugging off his jacket, he draped it over her shoulders and she, not paying attention to him, startled for a moment before she relaxed into the warmth of it.

Softly, she laughed. "This is the second time ye’ve given me yer clothes."

"Well, a lass should never be cold," Torrin pointed out. "Especially nae in the company o’ her intended."

In the soft light of the afternoon, Torrin could see the soft blush on Valora’s cheeks, her skin turning a pretty shade of red. There was something incredibly precious about her—something that drew him to her like a moth is drawn to a flame.

"Why were Keith’s men here?" Valora asked then, and Torrin found himself unprepared to give her an answer. Perhaps it was best to be honest with her, he thought—at least as honest as he could be, given the circumstances.

"They came tae discuss about ye an’ yer future," he told her. "Laird Keith still wants ye an’ so he sent his men tae negotiate."

Immediately, terror clouded her gaze.

"I sent them away," he assured her. "I have nay desire tae negotiate yer future with anyone. I asked fer yer hand an’ I intend tae keep it… if ye’d be so inclined as tae wed me when the ten days are over. There is naethin’ Keith can offer me that will change me mind."

The blush on Valora’s cheeks seemed to turn deeper, a glowing shade of red. She was still staring at the horizon, that thin line of blue on blue, but now Torrin had the suspicion that she was also avoiding his gaze.

His mind scrambled for something else to say, something that would melt away the tension. In the end, he settled on the only subject he could think of that seemed safe enough, something that he could easily share with her.

"Ye ken, I dinnae have any siblings," he said. "But I can imagine how ye feel about yer sister. Daisy an’ Col , they may nae be me siblings, but we grew up together. That’s why I’m so close tae them."

"They grew up here?" Valora asked. "With ye?"

"Och aye," said Torrin. "An’ after me parents’ deaths, they were the only ones I had in me life. Well, them an’ Noah."

Valora nodded soberly, turning to face Torrin.

Once again, they found themselves staring into each other’s eyes, the moments stretching like dripping honey.

The air between them was charged with something unspoken but deeply felt—something that frightened even Torrin with its intensity and yet seemed to pull him closer and closer to her with every passing moment, with every breath they took.

Torrin found himself leaning closer. It would have been easy to capture her lips in a kiss—so easy that he almost gave in to the temptation, getting so close that he could almost taste her lips. But before he could, a bark like thunder echoed in the glen, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Below them, at the base of the tree, Arrow was busy chasing a squirrel, running rounds around the roots and barking excitedly at the creature.

Torrin couldn’t help but laugh as he watched him, and so did Valora, the sound bright and clear like a bell—a beautiful sound, one that Torrin would love to hear for the rest of his life.

"Shall we go back down, then?" he asked Valora. "Someone seems tae be very excited about squirrels an’ I’d rather nae have a massacre on me hands."

With a chuckle, Valora nodded. "Aye. Let us go."

Valora began to climb back down with Torrin’s help, and if he were honest with himself, though it had been his own idea to go back, he now wished they could stay there forever instead.