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"There is nay need," said Valora, too stubborn to accept the help she so clearly needed. In response, Torrin crossed his arms over his chest and watched her expectantly, will all the confidence and amusement of a man who knew she would fail.

Hobbling over to the other side, Valora tried once again, this time using her right leg to climb on the horse.

Just as she had expected, though, the movement was too unfamiliar, too unpracticed for her, and the only thing she managed to do was pull herself up for a moment, before she fell back down, landing on her bad leg.

She had to bite back a groan of pain as she landed—and she had to swallow down her pride, which seemed to her even more painful than the physical injury.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I cannae dae this alone."

"That’s nae a very nice way tae ask fer help," said Torrin, and Valora drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

Of course, he would make this difficult.

Of course, he would demand to have it his way—perhaps not because this was the kind of man he was, but rather because nothing could be easy for Valora.

"Will ye… please help me?" she said through gritted teeth.

"O’ course, me lady," said Torrin. "All ye had tae dae was ask."

The nerve o’ him!

Valora had half a mind to tell him to leave her alone once more, but then she would never manage to get on the horse at all, and Torrin would either abandon her there or manhandle her until she was on the saddle, just like he had done before.

She would much rather simply accept his help, and so she let him boost her up to the saddle, settling on it just as he climbed on as well.

"How’s yer leg?" he asked.

"Wonderful!" said Valora, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I love gettin’ me leg caught in a trap!"

Despite her irritated tone, Torrin remained calm, much to Valora’s surprise. "Are ye hurt? Can ye make it tae the castle?"

For a moment, Valora remained silent, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Speaking to Torrin like this when he was so calm only made her seem petulant, and she didn’t want to appear childish.

"I’m fine, really," she said. "Dinnae fash."

Torrin didn’t respond, but he led the horse back to the main road, and the two of them continued on their way to Torrin’s home.

Valora tried her best to remember her lessons, wringing her mind to connect him to a place, but she couldn’t.

She supposed she would find out soon enough, though, where her new home would be.

For now, she had nothing to distract her from the cold and the pain, or from the fact that she was covered in mud like a wild animal. Quite an impression she would make to the people of her new home!

It was Torrin who broke the silence first, since Valora had no desire to speak to him. What he said, though, gave her pause.

"I have a proposal," said Torrin, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at him, raising her gaze from the floor, and was startled by the sincerity of his own. "I understand this is far from ideal fer ye, but the reality is that yer faither has given ye away. I dinnae think ye will be safe if ye return tae yer home. I wish I could, but from what I’ve seen o’ yer faither, I think he wouldnae hesitate tae give ye tae Laird Keith. An’ Laird Keith would jump at the opportunity o’ havin’ ye. "

Valora didn’t like the sound of that, but she admitted to herself that he had a point.

And Laird Keith was a demanding man, someone who didn’t care about consequences.

If he had no qualms groping her in front of everyone, then he would have no qualms trying to have her, no matter what it took.

Valora wouldn’t be safe home; she wouldn’t be safe near her father.

"What is it?"

"Stay with me fer ten days," Torrin said. "Ten days tae learn more about me an’ me people, me lands. Form an opinion o’ me fer yerself an’ see if ye wish tae be wedded tae me or if ye’d rather return home."

Valora was stunned into silence by the offer. It was very gracious of him to even make such a proposal. Anyone else would have simply married her and kept her as his wife whether she liked it or not, but Torrin was offering her a choice.

For the first time in her life, she had a choice.

Doubt began to creep in, just as quickly as relief, overshadowing the latter. She didn’t know if he meant what he said; she didn’t know if she could trust him, if she should believe him at all.

"What is the trick?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Surely, there is a trick."

Torrin raised his shoulders up as if in surrender. "There’s nay trick," he promised. "I only dinnae wish tae have a wife who runs away from me. I’d rather have someone who is willin’ than someone who will avoid me at every opportunity."

Valora couldn’t claim to believe him still.

Doubt lingered in her mind, making her suspicious of him, and for good reason.

For all she knew, he could be lying to her about everything, just to lull her into a false sense of security and trap her in a marriage that would be just as miserable as any other she could have had.

But why would he go to such lengths to trap her? He already had her; her father had given her to him, and all he had to do was wed her in a proper ceremony in order for him to bind them together for the rest of their lives. He didn’t need to fool her; he already had the upper hand.

Though reluctantly, she gave Torrin a small nod. "Alright," she said. "But under one condition."

"Let us hear it," said Torrin.

"Ye willnae touch me."

Much to her ire, Torrin laughed; a loud, sudden laugh that was bright and amused and seemed to fill up the whole path.

Valora glared at the darkness ahead in silence, waiting for him to stop laughing so she could ask him just what it was that seemed so funny to him. When he finally composed himself, though, Torrin looked at her from the side and gave her a small shrug.

"I’ll only touch ye if ye ask me fer it."

Valora let out a scandalized gasp, clutching at her chest. "I will dae nay such thing! I will never ask ye tae touch me!"

Who did Torrin think she was? Valora was a lady, one who had remained pure her whole life, in fact, and who had not even shared her first kiss. If Torrin thought she would succumb to the desires of the flesh, then he was sorely mistaken.

"If ye say so," said Torrin, sounding awfully certain of himself, though in Valora’s opinion, it was for no good reason. She knew, of course, that if fate made it so that they wedded and remained together, she would eventually have to sire his heirs, but that didn’t mean she would ever ask for his touch—or even desire it.

It was presumptuous of him to think she would.

For a moment, Valora observed Torrin over her shoulder, taking in the sharp line of his jaw under his short stubble, the regal, high forehead and the strong brows that framed his gray eyes, the slightly crooked nose that looked as though he had broken it in a fight.

He was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it; more so than any other man she had seen at the ball, and Valora had the sneaking suspicion that he, too, was aware of it, though he didn’t appear cocky about it.

Still, none of that meant Valora would suddenly develop a burning desire for him—no matter what the tight clenching of her stomach may be suggesting, as the two of them stared at each other in a challenge, waiting to see who would back down first.

As the wind blew past them, Valora couldn’t help but shiver in the chill. Behind her, Torrin shielded her from the worst of it, but she was getting the brunt of it, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Only a few moments later, Torrin brought the horse to a halt once more, and Valora frowned, turning her head to ask him what he was doing. She didn’t have time to question him, though, before he unclasped his cloak and draped it over her own, pinning it over her shoulders.

Then, he continued to ride as though nothing had happened.

Valora sat there on the saddle, stunned by the simple gesture of care.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated her with such care other than her sister, and the gesture left her both speechless and breathless.

It seemed meaningless to Torrin, who never even spoke a word about it or asked her if she was cold—he simply observed it and fixed it, without Valora having to say anything.

And that, more than anything else, surprised her.

Warmth pooled in her chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the cloaks on her shoulders. And for a moment, however brief, she thought that perhaps the man behind her was not so bad, after all.