“Shite,” he swore quietly, grinding his fist into the ground.
Instead of thinking of the things he wanted to do, he needed to remind himself of all the reasons why he couldn’t fall for the bonny lass.
Stop. She is not bonny. She is just a lass.
A lass that I call Bluebell because of her beauty.
He sighed. Think, Rory, he urged himself. Remember why ye cannot have Alana Duran. Think of all the reasons why she can never be yours.
One, he ticked off on his fingers, she is promised to another.
Really, if he was truthful, that was the only reason why. It overrode all other reasons. She could not be his. No matter how much he wished it so. She belonged to MacDonell, and kenning the arse, whether the man wanted Alana or not, he would do all in his power to keep her. Whether because of the promise, or just plain spite to keep her away from Rory.
Their clans weren’t mortal enemies, but they also weren’t close. It was why his father pushed for Rory to step in and help Alana. It wouldmake a show of good faith to the MacDonell, and that was always a benefit. Even if the clan was further North where they couldn’t really offer any sort of protection. Which got Rory to thinking.
If MacDonell land was too far from Hart land, it was for certs more than too far to be of any benefit or assistance to the Duran. So, what then, was the real purpose for the marriage? It wasn’t as if the Duran clan held many numbers. They did not. The clan was quite small and had gotten smaller over the past several years.
So, what then?
Rory pondered that question all night as sleep eluded him. When dawn finally broke he readied food and drink for Alana to break her fast. He wanted to get moving as fast as possible this morn. The trek ahead was getting more difficult the closer they got to MacDonell lands.
But he also wanted to sit here and get to ken Alana more. He shook his head. Against every fiber of his being, he could not admit to himself that he would have to let her go.
Chapter Eighteen
Alana had arestless night. Though not as restless as Rory had by the look of weariness weighing his handsome features down. Dark circles shadowed underneath his tired eyes. After initially lying down with her back to Rory, she ended up tossing and turning for most of the night afore finally settling into a deep sleep when dawn was just getting ready to break.
She woke to a meal waiting for her to break her fast. She ate and hurriedly got ready. Rory had mentioned that he wanted to leave early and she would not delay them.
They had been climbing the trail and it had grown steeper and steeper with each step they took. She was in a dour mood and she could not explain why. Mayhap it had to do with the way she felt Rory had shunned her the night afore. He spurned away every attempt she had made at conversation. She could tell he was lost in his own thoughts, much like she had found herself all too often lately.
Though she wasn’t sure why his thoughts would put him in such a foul mood. He was not the one being forced to marry someone that was unkind. His future wasn’t bleak. Not like hers.
“Careful,” he warned, breaking into her solemn thoughts.
For some reason his word of caution annoyed her. “I will be just fine,” she snapped. “I think that by now, after all the days we have been hiking that ye would think me capable of continuing to do so.”She rubbed her nose from the sudden itch that surfaced at the same time a stone loosened under her foot. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, like a spear of hot flame, and she yelped as she tumbled down.
Rory rushed to her, and she could tell that he was trying to catch her afore she hit the ground, but he wasn’t fast enough.
At her side, he knelt and gently checked her ankle. She whimpered as his prying fingers hit a sensitive spot.
“Ye’re too stubborn for yer own good,” he muttered, scooping her into his arms in one swift move.
“Put me down,” Alana protested, pushing at his chest, flustered. But he only snorted, ignoring her and refusing to set her on her feet. Trying to ignore the throbbing of her ankle, she rested her head against his chest. She could hear the strong thump-thump-thump of his heart, racing in tandem with hers.
He carried her to a sheltered ledge, the overhang of rock protecting them from the sun. Gently, he set her down, taking care to not cause her pain. “Please, for once, listen to me and dinnae move,” he pled with her as he walked away, only to return a few minutes later with their packs.
Dropping them on the ground, he dug around and pulled out a linen tunic which he began to tear into wide strips.
She protested, but he didn’t stop.
“I need to wrap yer ankle. ’Twill be swelled soon and the wrapping will help. ’Twill also help keep the pain down. ’Tis no’ broken though, which is a blessing considering how hard ye fell.”
He dropped down beside her and gently lifted her leg. He wrapped her ankle in the strips of linen with nimble fingers that moved light as feathers.
How he could be so big and rough, but treat her with such kindness and gentility, she hadn’t the faintest idea. When he finished, he set her leg on the ground. “If ye stay off it for the rest of the day and night, ye should be able to walk on it on the morrow. ’Twill be sore, ofcourse, but manageable.”
She nodded and he pushed off the ground.
