A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(45)

He’d hurt her. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do. He loved her, he wanted nothing more than to protect her from those who would do her harm, and he’d brought her to this state.

He sank to his knees, close to her but careful not to touch in case she should become further upset. How absurd this was—he’d killed men, eviscerated and maimed and ridden endless days and nights over rough, rocky terrain. He’d survived his own wounds and tended to them on his own for lack of a healer, all of them far too concerned with the more severely wounded to treat a bloody head or broken shoulder.

Yet he couldn’t stand the sight or sound of a sobbing woman.

Especially when he was the reason for it and even more so because it was her.

“Caitlin. I didn’t mean to make you cry so. I shouldn’t have said it.” He wondered if she could hear him over the force of her sobs, but he wouldn’t have raised his voice for anything. Better they not know he’d reduced the lass to tears with his clumsiness.

He took a chance then, touching her back.

She flung him off. “Leave me alone,” was the broken whisper he received in reply.

He stood, knowing it was hopeless and knowing with even more certainty that he could not afford to let her out of his sight. Instead of his awareness dissuading her, she’d only be more determined than ever to show him she could escape.

He returned to where he’d been seated, suddenly miserable and full of self-recrimination.

Brice stirred. “I’d say that could have gone better,” he muttered before rolling to his other side.





22





You cannot be serious.” Caitlin looked from one of them to the other, searching for some sign of laughter. They often exchanged jests, seemed to always be chuckling over some joke or another—normally at the expense of one of them.

They were all serious.

Brice held out the rope. “I’m sorry, lass, but this is the way it has to be.”

“My name is Caitlin, for one.” She dug her nails into her palms, willing herself not to reach out and slap the rope from his hands. And perhaps claw his eyes out while she was at it.

“My apologies. Caitlin. This is for the best.”

“According to who?”

“According to all of us,” Rodric replied.

“I didn’t ask you,” she snarled.

He bristled but continued nonetheless. “It’s for the best, Caitlin, because we cannot run the risk of you fleeing. No matter your reasons for doing so.”

She hoped he didn’t see her flinch. Her behavior of the evening prior was not something she was proud of. The way she’d wept!

Not out of heartbreak, but out of frustration at not being heard or understood. Not being able to explain herself fully. He would never know why she’d wanted to leave and would go on thinking it was a result of her stubborn nature.

He wouldn’t know it was for his sake, in order to spare him any further danger.

No, he’d rather believe himself the cleverest, the strongest, someone who knew so much better than she what was best for her.

Her nails dug in deeper. The pain helped keep her from crying all over again. It was always one of her least favorite qualities, the way she often cried when overwhelmed by strong emotion—even when that emotion was rage.

“Allow me to understand you.” She folded her arms, glaring at all of them until their gazes dropped to the ground.

All of them except one, naturally. Rodric jutted his chin out, challenging her to make him look away.

She scowled. “You expect me to ride with my wrist tied to one of yours at all times?”

“Aye. That is exactly what we expect. ‘Tis the only way to ensure you don’t follow the desire to run.”

“It is not my desire to run. I wished to do it because I knew I should. I still know it.”

“Which is why you will be tethered to one of us at all times. It’s really quite simple. So. Are you ready to start out?”

It was all too humiliating. He treated her like he’d treat a child, and when she was willing to sacrifice herself for his sake.

She’d not make that mistake again.

“Certainly. The sooner we arrive, the happier I’ll be.” It was a true challenge, keeping her head high as she went to her mare. The lovely animal dug at the ground with one hoof, snorting and whinnying in eagerness to be on her way.

Would that Caitlin could share her enthusiasm.

Rodric stepped up to her, the rope extended. “Your wrist, please.”

“Which one?” she asked with a sweet smile which belied the rage bubbling in her chest.

“The left, please. Your partner will ride to your left.”

Brice held on to the mare’s reins as she allowed Rodric knot the length of rope around her wrist. She ground her teeth until her mouth ached but would not allow them to see her humiliation.

“Not you,” she snapped as Rodric moved to tie the other end to himself. She knew he would tie it to himself, and that denying him would hurt his pride. “I want Brice.”

The tall, forbidding man cleared his throat loudly to cover a chuckle. Caitlin didn’t look his way. She looked at Rodric, one eyebrow arched in a silent challenge. What do you think of that?

His eyes narrowed, the muscles jumping in his jaw. “If Brice is amenable.”