Page 6

CHAPTER FIVE

C haos erupted as Torrin and Noah both flung themselves into the fight, swords clashing loudly in the still night air.

There were still people in the castle—many of them, in fact, and Torrin was quite certain they could all hear them, but no one dared interfere—at least not yet.

He didn’t need anybody’s assistance, though; he and Noah were more than enough.

Each of them had two men to deal with, and Torrin had no time to check if Noah could handle his.

However, he had blind faith in him and his abilities.

Torrin’s opponents both attacked at the same time, and Torrin had to duck to avoid their blades before he counterattacked.

As he swung his sword, he felt the tip of it graze the chest of one of the men, though the blow didn’t land completely, forcing the two of them to step back from him for a moment and catch their bearings.

Torrin stood straight, his gaze flitting between the two men. The one to his right was the first to attack again, throwing himself at Torrin with the kind of hesitation that was lethal in a battle.

He couldn’t blame him. What did the man have to win from this? The only thing he had to fight for was his life.

Torrin took two steps, closing the distance between them.

The man took two steps back, though, maintaining the distance, and Torrin was quick to approach again, until the man had no choice but to jump back to avoid his blade.

Behind him, he could hear Noah’s grunts as he fought his own opponents, and the sounds gave him some peace of mind—as long as he could hear him, it meant he was alive.

The Keith soldiers were forcing him and Noah closer and closer to each other, it seemed to Torrin, as though they thought they could somehow close in on them and ambush them. But as Torrin found himself back to back with Noah, they both also found their biggest advantage.

They were at their best when they fought together like this, swapping enemies and working side by side, so used to each other’s strategies and techniques that they moved as one.

It didn’t take long for Keith’s soldiers to realize they had made a mistake.

Just as Torrin was about to attack again, three out of the four men retreated, rushing off into the shadows.

The only one remaining was the one who had been there originally, holding onto Valora, and Torrin let his sword drop by his side with a sigh. There was no point in fighting the man.

"Ye," he told the man remaining, raising his sword once more to point at him with the tip of it. "Where is yer laird?"

The man hesitated for a moment, but without his fellow soldiers there, there was nothing that he could do. Eventually, he dropped his sword and ran a hand through his dark hair, giving Torrin a shrug.

"He’s long gone," he said. "He left after givin’ us orders tae take Miss MacNeacail."

O’ course he did . . . the coward!

Torrin didn’t know what he had expected. This was precisely how Laird Keith operated, making others do all his dirty work for him while he gave orders from afar, from the safety of his study and his walls. Torrin should have never expected him to be there so he could confront him.

What a fool! Sendin’ his men tae their deaths instead o’ facin’ me like a man!

"Leave," he told the man through gritted teeth. "An’ tell yer laird he can consider our clans at war."

The man hesitated for a moment. Torrin could see him weighing his options, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of punishment awaited them all back at Dunnottar Castle. But then, he too fled into the shadows, disappearing into the night.

Once he was gone, Torrin turned to Valora to find her standing on the front steps, watching with wide eyes. Her complexion was pallid, reminding Torrin of a ghost, and when he approached her, she flinched at first, as if she didn’t know what to expect from him.

He made for a shocking sight, he supposed.

He was still covered in blood, now dried and dark like the sky above them.

Not too far from where Valora stood, the body of the man he had killed lay lifeless, a stark reminder of his brutality.

He would have been more surprised if she had been as perfectly composed, if she had seemed entirely unaffected by everything she had witnessed.

"Miss MacNeacail," Torrin said when she didn’t look at him, but rather continued to stare at the body on the ground. Slowly, Valora dragged her gaze to him, blinking as if in confusion. "Ye’re alright."

It was a statement rather than a question. Valora didn’t quite seem to believe it, at least not at first, but then she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and some color seemed to return to her cheeks.

"Where are yer things?" he asked her, and Valora pointed silently a few feet away, where a small bag lay on the ground. Torrin ran over to it and picked it up before he headed back to the steps where Valora still stood. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he gave her a good look from head to toe to make sure that she hadn’t been hurt in the scuffle, and then reached for her arm to take a look at the only injuries that she seemed to have sustained—some bruises that were getting darker by the minute.

He had hardly managed to touch her, though, when she raised her other hand and slapped his away, much to his surprise—and much to his amusement.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of their situation.

"I didnae think this would count as me bein’ inappropriate," he said, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small smirk. "I only wished tae see if ye’re well."

"I’m fine," Valora said sharply, but then she seemed to catch herself and her expression softened ever so slightly. "I just… dinnae want tae be touched right now. Thank ye. Fer savin’ me… an’ fer checkin’ about me well-bein’."

I’m yer husband now. It’s me job.

He didn’t speak those words out loud. He didn’t know how Valora would react, though she already knew she was meant to be wedded to him.

Instead, he gestured to her to follow him, but even as he walked off, she didn’t move.

Torrin paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder at her with a small, questioning frown, but still, Valora didn’t move.

"Where are we goin’?" she demanded.

"Tae yer new home," said Torrin. "An’ I suggest ye move afore Keith’s men come back fer ye."

That seemed to be more than enough motivation for Valora to finally follow him, the two of them going down the path Noah had taken and meeting him by the stables.

Thankfully, their horses had remained prepared for a swift escape, and Torrin took his by the reins, swiftly guiding it out of the squat building.

"Go on ahead," he told Noah, who nodded firmly. "We’ll be right behind ye."

Once he had his orders, Noah jumped on his horse and rode off to clear the path and prepare the council for what was to come. With him gone, Torrin turned to Valora, looking at her expectantly, only for her to stare at him in silence.

"Well?" he said. "Get on the horse."

"Surely, ye jest," said Valora, much to Torrin’s surprise. "I willnae share a horse with ye, I dinnae ken ye! I would appreciate having me own horse."

Torrin glanced around them, seeing movement in the shadows. With an impatient sigh, he gestured to the horse in frustration, saying, "I suggest ye get on unless ye wish there tae be another fight."

Valora looked around as well, and she seemed to notice the same thing Torrin did—men, coming out from the shadows.

She didn’t move fast enough for his liking, though, and so he did the only thing he could think of—he grabbed her by the waist, much to her ire, and tossed her on the saddle before jumping on behind her.

"What dae ye think ye’re daein’?" she demanded, just as Torrin put the horse into motion, the two of them fleeing before Keith’s men could chase them. "How dare ye manhandle me like I’m a… a sack o grain! I’m a lady!"

"Aye, so ye are," said Torrin. "A lady who will get us both killed with her stubbornness."

Valora remained quiet, but the silence between them was heavier than any quip she could have thrown at him. Just as he thought she wouldn’t speak another word at him, though, she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear it.

"I doubt they’d have me killed."

Torrin found himself laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. He supposed it was true; if Keith’s men were going to kill anyone, it would be him and not the woman he was trying to marry.

Still, he preferred his head attached to his shoulders.

For a while, he and Valora rode in silence, neither of them speaking. Then, it occurred to Torrin that she could very well try to run, and he would much rather avoid the kind of trouble that would come with having to chase her, even if he was quite certain he could catch her.

There were dangers in the woods. Though the parts they were riding through were wide, an expanse of glens and valleys that were sparsely populated by tall trees, there were still places to hide near the path—places any ambitious brigand could use to hide and string out in a surprise attack when the time came.

Torrin considered his options; he could try to hold onto Valora, but the last time he had touched her, she had promptly slapped his hand away.

He could take his chances and simply let her be, but that, too, didn’t sound like a good idea.

During the very short time he had known her, Valora had seemed to him like a particularly stubborn woman.

Looking around, Torrin’s eye fell on his satchel, which was attached to the saddle, and he reached down to rummage through it, producing a thin cord of leather. It was far from ideal, but it would have to do for now, as he had nothing else at hand, and he couldn’t think of a better solution.

As he made to wrap one end around Valora’s waist, she jumped in surprise, her hands grabbing onto the saddle’s edge to steady herself.

"What is this about?" she asked.

"It’s fer security," Torrin said, making quick work of the knot behind her back, making sure the cord was loose enough around her that it wouldn’t hurt or constrict her.

Though he could practically feel the discontent waft off her in waves, Valora said nothing more on the matter, surrendering herself to his whims, much to his surprise.

He had expected some more resistance; he had expected to get a piece of her mind, but she only sat in front of him, her head high and her lips shut, staring straight ahead.

There’s nae nobility in sufferin’ in silence.

The trip back to Halberry Castle would have been a short one had Torrin been on his own on the horse, but now that he was sharing his saddle with Valora, the last thing he wanted was to overexert the creature.

His mare was strong and reliable, but even she had a hard time carrying the weight of two people and all their belongings, and so he made sure to give her the time she needed as they rode.

That, of course, also meant that he was putting them in more danger.

It was crucial to keep his eyes peeled for any signs of danger.

Torrin kept glancing around, peering into the shadows and glancing over his shoulder.

The night air was cold, the wind whipping his face, but Valora’s body was warm against him, her heat seeping into his chest every time their bodies brushed.

Whenever the motion of the horse brought them closer, Torrin could smell lavender and rose on her, the scent saturating the delicate, pale skin of her neck.

She was a beautiful woman. Her big, blue eyes, those auburn strands of hair that looked like a burning halo around her head, her shapely figure and delicate facial features were enough to make any man desire her—even Torrin, who had long since sworn ff the pleasures of the flesh, too dedicated to his goals.

There had been no time in his life for companionship, no space for a woman, and now that he was bringing Valora back home, he didn’t know what to do with her.

There was one thing he did know, though; every man would envy him for having a wife like her.

But dae I want her tae be me wife?

He could hardly call her that when he had outright bought her.

Almost all marriages among nobles were transactional, based on the needs of the clans, but to pay for a woman’s hand—and her body—seemed wrong to him.

Valora was right when she claimed no one had asked her or the other young women in that auction whether or not they wanted to wed.

And he, in the name of saving her from an unwanted marriage, had thrown her right into another.

"Dae I truly have tae be tied like this?" Valora asked. It had taken her a while, but she had proven Torrin right, after all—he had finally received a complaint from her. "It makes me feel like… a sheep or a donkey."

"It’s fer yer safety," said Torrin simply.

"It is, really?"

"Aye."

"An’ here I thought it was because ye didnae want me tae escape."

"That’s what I mean," said Torrin. "It isnae safe fer ye out there. Who kens what will happen tae ye if ye try tae escape?"

"Who kens what will happen tae me if I make it tae yer castle?"

"Naethin’ will happen tae ye."

Tugging at the cord around her waist, Valora said, "I doubt that fer some reason."

Torrin couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though he said nothing more.

The more he spoke to her, the more he entertained her antics, the worse it would be.

It was better, he figured, to let her stew in her own thoughts until they reached the castle, and perhaps by some miracle, she would calm down before then.

"I think I ken what’s happenin’ here," said Valora, breaking the silence once more, much to Torrin’s chagrin. "I think ye enjoy havin’ control."

"I enjoy naethin’ about this," said Torrin under his breath.

In fact, he wished he had never gone to that damned auction in the first place.