She snorted but refrained from stomping to show her distaste. The animal had always been smarter than the other horses, seeming to understand both spoken language and non-verbal cues. So, when she jerked him to the side a little harder than entirely necessary, he knew that it was in response to being ordered around.
“I ken,” he whispered, stroking her neck as they slowly traversed the rocky terrain. He kept his gaze on the trees in the distance, looking for signs of animals lurking. “Soon, I’ll take ye out and let ye run as hard as ye wish, but we’re huntin’ today.”
He didn’t get a response, but that was favorable. It meant she understood and that she would cooperate for the day. However, he also knew that he had received his last warning with her. Shewouldbe running wild soon enough, regardless of what else Darragh asked of her.
Just like someone else I ken.
He sat up taller as the mare’s footsteps became smoother. In the distance, a shadow darted from behind one tree to the next. It was too big to be a fox, too graceful to be one of the men.
When it showed itself again, strolling slowly as if it didn’t sense the predator moving toward it, light caught on the magnificent antlers crowning its head. The buck leaned down, languid and confident, nipping at the grass poking through the detritus. He’d lived a long, respectable life, which was obvious in the way that he moved. Darragh brought his mare to a stop and reached for his bow.
His muscles coiled with practiced ease. Without looking away from the buck, he positioned his weapon. His fingers caressed the light, solid wood of his arrows, not stopping until the grain felt just right against his callused flesh.
The arrow came away from the quiver easily without so much as a whisper. With a flick of his wrist that felt like coming home, Darragh strung the bow. His back grew straighter as he pulled the string back. Below him, his mare stilled, giving him the steady base that he’d need to take the shot.
Taking a deep breath, Darragh brought the buck into his sights. The animal was still grazing leisurely, his antlers brushing against the leaves and vines around him. As Darragh exhaled, he loosed the arrow.
It flew through the air, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The sharp tip buried itself into the beast’s chest, a thin trickle of blood running down his chest. Then, with no sound aside from the dull thud of his body against the dirt, he fell.
The buck felt no pain; his breathing stopped the second Darragh’s projectile hit. The animal would make a fine feast, and Darragh would see to it that each part was used with the respect it deserved. As he reslung his bow across his back, he nudged his heels against his horse’s sides.
“Go on, now,” he said, his hands finding the reins again. “Nae too fast; let’s nae ruin this for anyone else.”
She took the direction like a dream, speeding up but picking each step she took carefully to minimize the noise she made. The challenge was one she enjoyed, though most people would tell Darragh he was imagining it.
When he got to his kill, he dismounted gracefully. The leaves crunched beneath his feet, but the sound was centralized to the area. Even though it had been months since he’d truly hunted anyone or anything other than Amelia, it was still second-nature to land with soft feet. At his core, he was a hunter, a predator that walked amongst men.
As he removed the arrow, the kill felt hollow. It wasn’t as if the buck was going to go to waste. They’d celebrate this appropriately, feed as many people as they could with him. But Darragh hadn’t been itching to kill to provide. He wanted to protect.
What I’m doin’ out here… it’s nae protectin’ anyone.
Standing up, he looked in the direction that he knew his group was. He’d need help carrying this back. Whatever victory he felt initially was hollowed out. The gnawing need toactonly intensified, an instinctual knowledge that his issues weren’t being solved by hunting for fun.
And, while he couldn’t explain why, he felt as though there was something important that he was missing. Perhaps the stress of planning the hunt was finally catching up with him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Traversing through the keep was just as easy as Amelia had anticipated it would be. She slipped from the alcove where she’d been hiding into the corridor. A maid crossed her path but didn’t look her way, too concerned with whatever task she was completing.
Everyone is far too busy with their own business. Even if I wasnae tryin’ to hide, they wouldnae be bothered with me.
She walked quickly down the hallway, heading straight to her chambers. On her way, she didn’t see another person, which felt like both a blessing and a curse. She couldn’t be sure that her father hadn’t slipped back into the walls of the keep.
If I run into him again on me own, it’s over for me.
Slipping quietly into her room, her hands shook. As she brushed her hands over her gown, she was reminded of the healing injury. When she was walking through the castle, she hardlyremembered that she had been hurt. Now that she was thinking about the long, hard road ahead, she could feel the tenderness in her ribs. They didn’t hurt badly at the moment, but she knew that it wouldn’t take too long before they ached from overuse.
“I need to wrap them,” she muttered to herself as she walked deeper into the room.
She headed straight for the stash of extra bandages that Isla had left with her. As she pulled them from the middle drawer of her trunk, she couldn’t help but feel that there was a wrongness to what she was about to do. Since she’d arrived at Fraser Keep, Isla had been tending to her ribs. Now, she didn’t have any choice but to do this herself.
Forcing her hands to steady, Amelia undressed enough to reach her bandages. Then, going slow so she didn’t miss a single inch, she wrapped herself up twice, tucking the rest of the gauze away to take with her. She felt more stable, like she had the support she needed for the hours she’d have to go without a proper rest.
Her body as fortified as it could be, she turned around to survey the room. The thought of leaving empty-handed made her heart ache, but she’d have to travel light. As she was categorizing the meager belongings she’d accumulated, her eyes caught on something new.
“When did that get here?” she asked the empty room, approaching the canvas lying on top of her mattress as though it might grow teeth.
For a moment, she let her fingers drag over the gentle brushstrokes. She found it almost difficult to believe that Darragh’s hands created this. But then she remembered the way he’d touched her. Those hands had been so gentle and precise, despite the strength that lay beneath the surface.
