Page 100 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“Donaldina—”

“I have spent enough time confined by men who claim the walls are for me protection.”

“I wasnae confining ye.”

“Ye were preparing tae suggest I remain.”

He had been. She knew it. Roy exhaled. “Hamish will send escorts.”

“Nae.”

“Cormac remains⁠—”

“Which is why half the castle is patrolling every road from here tae the river. We will stay upon open ground, within sight of the western watch.”

“Without escorts?”

Donaldina lifted one eyebrow. “Are ye suggesting Laird MacIver requires guards for a ride across his own moor?”

“Manipulation doesnae become more respectable merely because ye perform it prettily.”

“Did it succeed?”

Roy looked at her. The corner of her mouth moved. Against every instinct toward caution, command and miserable self-denial, something eased within him.

“Aye,” he muttered.

They descended to the courtyard together. The stable master asked no questions when Roy ordered two horses saddled. The man’s gaze moved once between them, then toward the battlements, where paired MacIver and MacNicol guards already began their first shared rotation.

Roy mounted and waited while Donaldina settled upon her mare. She looked toward the open gates.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I thought ye had decided.”

“I decided we would leave. Direction remains yer responsibility.”

“A dangerous division of authority.”

“It has served us thus far.”

The gates opened. They rode out beneath the fading light without banners, captains, or armed men behind them. Dun Ard remained upon the cliffs, its towers dark against the western sky while patrols moved along the walls.

The open moor stretched before them. Wind bent the long grass in silver waves. The road disappeared toward the hills, unguarded by stone and unrestricted by parchment.

Roy rode beside Donaldina.

For the first time since the council gathered, he allowed himself to breathe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The waterfall announced itself long before Donaldina saw it. At first, it was no more than a distant murmur beneath the sound of hooves and wind through the trees. The farther they rode from Dun Ard, the stronger it became, deepening from whisper to steady thunder until the woodland seemed to breathe around it.

Roy left the road without warning.

Donaldina guided her mare after him between two stone outcrops half concealed by bracken. The path narrowed immediately, descending through pines and pale birches whose branches knitted together overhead. Fallen leaves softened the horses’ steps. Ferns brushed Donaldina’s boots, wet from the earlier rain, while the scent of moss, earth and crushed pine rose beneath them.

“Where are ye taking me?” she asked.