Rory scoffed. “Dinnae say such things.”
“And pray tell, why no’? ’Tis no’ as if ye care.” Her words sounded biting even to her own ears. “Ye were walking far ahead of me. I could have fallen to my death and ye wouldnae have noticed.”
He gave her a droll look. “Ye are being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” She asked incredulously. “I think no’. I ken ye have grown tired of me. Of escorting me. ’Twould be much easier to leave me behind.”
He dropped onto the rock beside her, his shoulder and arm resting against hers. She tried to ignore how much she missed the closeness. How much she enjoyed his presence every time he was near.
“I dinnae blame ye for it. I understand and would react in much the same way if our roles were reversed,” she confessed.
His gaze slammed into hers. “Why do ye say such things? If I had wanted to leave ye behind, I would have done so long ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Why didnae ye?”
Green eyes bore into hers, searching her face for what only he kenned. The walls that usually surrounded him were up again and Alana feared she would not be penetrating them anytime soon. Mayhap never.
He laughed, annoyance lifting the corners of his full lips, and he shook his head. “Ye dinnae see aught with those pretty eyes of yers.”
His words took her aback. “Ye think my eyes are pretty?” No one had ever told her that.
With a roll of his eyes, he nodded. “How could I no’? I would have to be blind no’ to see.”
She smiled at his compliment. At the happiness it made her feel. She leaned into him. “What are we?” She asked.
It took Rory a long time to answer. So long that Alana did not think he would. Finally, he said, “Two lost souls.”
She thought about that. Were they lost? Was she lost? She hadn’t thought so when she was home at Auchenford. She was happy with the life she led there. It was sheltered, aye, much more so than she wanted, but her father always said it was for her protection—to ensure her safety. She accepted his answer. She had no reason not to, really.
She had not realized what life was like outside of the walls ofAuchenford. That life existed outside of the shelter she had grown accustomed to.
But she had been thinking about her time at her former home a lot lately. The life she lived then, she can see now, wasn’t as what had been explained to her. Nay, she was a prisoner in her home. She could go nowhere alone. Her maid was always with her. Guards watched over her every minute of the day. Searching her memory, she could not think of one instance when she wasn’t surrounded by them. Thinking about it now, it made no sense.
When her parent’s hosted visitors from other clans or even the English every so often, Alana was never allowed to come down from her room. Her door was actually locked to prevent her from doing so. But, again, her father stated it was for her safety and well-being. Always for her safety.
However, looking back, she wondered if it was because he didn’t want her mingling with the guests. The young men that would accompany their fathers. There were many, but not once had Alana ever said a word to one of them. She could only watch from her chamber window as they arrived or left.
Was her father purposely hiding her away so she wouldn’t become enamored with one of the visitors, or so that one of the visitors didn’t ask for her hand?
She nibbled at her fingernail. That didn’t make sense. Some of those visiting would have made great matches. Their clans combined would create a mighty force and it would keep her close to home.
“What has yer mind so occupied, Bluebell?” Rory asked softly beside her, nudging her shoulder gently.
Not wanting to burden him with her problems, she shook her head. “’Tis naught.” She pushed off the rock, immediately missing his warmth. “We should probably continue on. I am for certs there is much ground we need to cover afore stopping for the night and my ankle has slowed us enough in our travels.”
A look that she couldn’t decipher crossed Rory’s face, but he quickly masked his expression. “Ye are right.” With a sigh he stood, picked up their packs, and led the way for them to carry on.
He had slowed the pace of his strides compared to earlier in the day when they had been walking. She was having an easier time keeping up with him, even with her sore ankle, which was still tightly wound in the strips of cloth Rory had applied.
They both walked quietly once again, each of them lost in their own thoughts. She was unsure of what plagued his mind, but hers was haunted by all things Rory.
Alana wanted him to laugh so she could hear his deep rumble again. Her mind kept wandering to when he’d carried her with such ease and care when she’d twisted her ankle. He’d picked her up afore she could put up a fight, acting as if she had weighed naught. As if she were no match for his strength. But most of all, he acted as if she mattered. In that moment she felt as if she was Rory’s world.
And she enjoyed that very much.
And now, she missed that very much.
Later, after Rory had once again made camp and cooked them a meal that consisted of partridge that he had hunted with his bow, the silence stretched long and quiet betwixt them. Neither of them wanting to say what was on their minds.
