Rory caught himselfas he watched Alana stretch in the afternoon sun, his eyes lingering longer than they should, edging the line of being improper. But he found he could not control himself. He could not stop looking at her. Watching her. Longing for her. He felt it deep in his bones.
“The birds are active today,” she commented, squinting against the sun, holding a hand up to shield her eyes as she looked at the trees. Birdsong had followed them throughout the day. Rory hadn’t paid it much attention. He was so used to the noise that it blended into the background of what he always expected to hear.
“Aye,” he agreed. “They have much to talk aboot, apparently.”
Alana smiled. A huge, bright smile that transformed her face and made him want her even more. “What must it be like?”
“Pardon?” He wasn’t sure to what she was referencing.
“Dinnae ye e’er wonder what ’twould be like to be a bird? To fly freely aboot from one place to the next.” She put her arms out imitating wings and flitted around in a small circle. A giggle bubbling up and bursting from her mouth.
Her laugh had become familiar. Something that he looked forward to hearing. So much so, that he kept trying to find ways to make her laugh, not caring if he was making a fool of himself.
Her presence no longer grated at him. Nay, it stopped doing thatdays ago. Now it comforted him. And for the brief moments she was not near, he longed for her.
He hated the warmth that bloomed in his chest every time she looked at him. It made him want to puff out his chest and square his shoulders, as if he was some buffoon preening for her attention. But no matter how he tried to stop all the feelings growing within him, no matter how he tried to tamp them down, they kept surfacing. And he was finding it hard to ignore them.
Rory sighed. “I would always be on edge. A predator could be watching from the shadows and wait for me to take off in flight so it could snatch me out of the air.”
“Rory,” she scolded. “That is a dreadful way to think of it.”
He shrugged. “Ye asked. I am only being honest.”
“Weel, I do appreciate that. E’en if ’tis morbid the way yer mind works.” They paused to refill their skins at a bubbling waterfall. The spray of the water caused her hair to cling to her glowing cheeks.
He wanted to reach out and brush the hair back. To feel her soft skin under the pads of his fingers. But he didn’t. He fought the urge with all his might.
When she stumbled on a slippery rock with a squeal, her feet coming out from under her, Rory grabbed her waist—holding on too tightly. Their eyes locked. The moment pulsed betwixt them. She was breathless. So was he.
Neither of them moved to pull away. Not wanting to break the spell that had bound them in that moment.
Finally, Rory stepped away, letting go, he strode ahead. Angry with himself for acting like a besotted lad.
Her brow furrowed, but he made no move to explain his mood. Instead, he pushed them forward. Forcing them to move further along in their journey than he had originally planned for the day.
By the time they had stopped for the night, both of them were exhausted and hungry. As they sat by the fire, each of them onopposite sides of the flames as they had most nights, they didn’t speak.
Rory remained quiet for fear of saying something he would regret. In no way could he make her aware of the feelings that were building within him. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Not when she had no choice in the matter that waited for her in the North. Nay, it would be cruel of him to say aught that would cause her to feel guilty for moving forward.
Though would she? Feel guilty that is. Mayhap it was only him having these sinful thoughts and she did not think of him in the same manner. The realization was crushing, but he would keep mum on the fact. It would be easier to let her go if her feelings didn’t match his.
A few times as they supped, Alana tried initiating a conversation, but he avoided it. His head consumed by thoughts that could never come to fruition. He busied himself with sharpening his blade.
When Alana finally gave up on trying to engage him and wrapped herself in her blanket, her back to the fire and him, a pang of guilt hit him square in the gut.
He sighed. He was being an arse again, but if he wanted to get through the rest of this journey unscathed and with his heart intact, it was the way he would have to be. Once his blade was sharpened enough to slice a blade of grass in a single swoop, he tucked it away.
He wasn’t tired. Sleep would escape him this night, so he moved to a nearby tree to lean against that as he stared at Alana’s back. Could she feel his gaze upon her, he wondered? Had she fallen asleep, or was her mind reeling as much as his?
If she was still awake, were the reasons denying her sleep the same as his? Mayhap her mind was struggling with what the future held with her soon-to-be husband. Rory wanted to groan at the thought of MacDonell. He couldn’t even think of the louse without wanting to punch something. Preferably, the dolt himself. The bastard didn’t deserve Alana.
MacDonell wouldn’t treasure her as she should be treasured. Sheshould be cherished like the finest and rarest of jewels. But he wouldn’t. If he was being forced into this marriage as well, he would more than likely lock her in her chambers and only visit when it was time to… He cut the thought off afore he could finish it. Nay, he didn’t want to think of Alana’s future so bleakly.
The man would have had to agree to the marriage. He was laird so there was no one forcing his hand. Though why he wanted to get involved in a lowland’s clan, Rory couldn’t figure out. It made no sense. From what Alana had said, the Duran’s had naught to offer. She carried no dowry. Or at least none that he had seen or heard her mention.
She sighed heavily and Rory realized she hadn’t fallen asleep.
He could go to her. Wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her neck, breathe in her sweet scent.
