A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(43)

Everything had changed the day of his passing. Nothing would ever be as it had once been. The several instances in which she had paid visit to the house in the years after Alan’s assumption of leadership had revealed an ever-degrading situation.

The eldest Anderson son had not the warm heart his father had possessed; if he had, he’d learned to hide it.

Padraig attempted to keep the clan running as their father had, and he performed admirably. Yet there was only so much one man could do when it seemed as though another man with final say in all matters pertaining to the clan was intent on destroying all the good his brother managed.

There was stirring by the fire.

Caitlin’s eyes opened just enough for her to see Quinn and Brice move to their respective saddles to rest their heads. Fergus and Rodric continued their conversation, their voices softer than ever.

She could’ve screamed. All she asked for was a moment, one single moment in which they were otherwise occupied. One moment in which she might be able to escape.

Fleeing on foot would be her only hope, seeing as how the mare’s saddle and blanket were beneath her head. She had never ridden bareback before and would not wish to attempt such a long journey in that manner.

If she could make it to the woods, all would be well. She could lose them there. She’d hide in a tree if necessary—it had been years since she’d last climbed one, but surely the skill would come back to her if she called upon it.

For one brief moment, the entire folly of her plan was clear. What was she thinking? How much longer would she lie to herself?

She would never get away from them, would never be able to escape detection when all four men would certainly be searching at once. She would starve while hiding, or encounter a hungry animal intent on making a meal of her.

If she made it to the woods at all.

She had to try. So long as she remembered the reason for her actions—the love she felt for Rodric, the vital importance of keeping him safe from his brother and Connor McAllister both—she would find a way.

Rodric chuckled over something, turning his face to the side so she might catch sight of his profile. The light from the fire danced over him, casting him in shadow one moment and a warm glow the next. His smile flashed, his eyes gleaming. She noticed a thin scar along his hairline which she hadn’t seen before. He’d sustained a wound while fighting.

He’d likely sustained much more than that.

Even with his rather rough edges, no matter the scars he might possess, he was handsome. He was still her hero.

If she’d been aware of falling asleep, it would’ve come as a great surprise.





21





If Caitlin was pretending to sleep, she was going a good job of it. He thought he even heard her snore once or twice, quite convincingly.

She was near exhaustion. It was natural. No one could lie there after going through all she’d suffered that day without eventually falling asleep. No matter how determined she might have been to stay awake, her body had won out.

This came as a relief, and not just because he had no desire to chase after the lass through a moonless countryside with which he was unfamiliar. There were many things he’d do for her, and do gladly, but that wasn’t one of them.

Och, but she was beautiful. The fact that she slept meant he had the chance to admire that beauty unnoticed. Her full mouth curved into a pout, as though she were unhappy with what she dreamed of. Fair brows against creamy skin. The fine, straight nose and gently curved jaw.

He longed to run his fingers over that curve and hold her chin between thumb and forefinger, drawing her to him. Her sweet breath on his face, the slight flaring of her nostrils as her breathing sped up the closer he came.

He longed to taste her lips, to feel the racing beat of her heart as he pulled her, clutched her, held onto her for dear life. He wanted to move his mouth deliciously slowly against hers, listening as she sighed, drinking in the curves of her body with both hands.

Starting with the waist and working down.

He shook his head, alarmed at his growing ardor.

There was more to be considered. He was wasting time imagining all manner of private fantasies while he needed to keep watch on her.

He’d already gone over the plans with each of the men, and everyone knew the part they’d play. He didn’t doubt their faithfulness, not for a moment. He would do the same for them if they asked.

The fire was dying out, dwindling until it was little more than a pile of dying embers; occasional cracking and popping were the only sounds to puncture the otherwise silent night. He’d never heard a night so silent.

It was as if all the world knew something was out of place. Something vital. A life-or-death matter.

Or perhaps nature itself knew of the death which had already occurred that day. So much death. It was one thing to witness such horrors on the battlefield but another to bear witness on a farm, in the middle of an otherwise quiet countryside with not so much as a neighboring cottage to mar the pastoral purity.

Perhaps if there had been a neighboring cottage, there might have been assistance offered to the now-deceased pair. Or, more likely, the neighbor who’d come on the run would also have been killed.

No, there had been no assisting Caitlin’s cousin. The moment McAllister had remembered the distant relative to whom Caitlin must have fled, her fate had been sealed.

Like as not, the fact that his stepdaughter had all but stepped foot on his very territory in order to pay respects to her uncle had infuriated him.