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I can make him move. He can’t stop me,dark thoughts whisper.
I could make him get out of my way. Rob shakes his head, then scratches the several days’ growth on his cheeks.
“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t understand. I’m not sure I want to know what could possess a woman to up and disappear the very day that she’s proposed to and, I might add, she had said yes. But it’s clear as day you weren’t captured, which we feared. We spent many a long day and night searching for you.”
“I’m sorry, I can explain, but first let me talk to Duncan.”
I try to step around him, but he moves with me, blocking my way. As we dance around each other a crowd gathers to watch.
“Wherever you went, you’re none the worse for wear,” Rob says, looking me up and down.
I don’t have time for this. I have to get to Duncan. He knows the truth and he believed me before; he’ll understand. I can’t explain this to Rob, especially with the eyes of the village on us. They already think I’m a witch. I’d be handing myself to them on a silver platter.
Rob crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. Behind him Duncan is disappearing up the path. He’ll soon be over the edge of the cliff. In my peripheral vision the clan is gathering, and Agnes is right there, smug and self-satisfied. She’s gotten what she wants, me outcast whether they’ve done it officially or not. Frustration and anger are shooting higher than my blood pressure.
“Rob, move out of my way. Now.”
“I won’t let you hurt him again.”
“You have no idea what hurt is,” I say.
Anger is making my voice pitch low, almost a growl that I barely recognize as my own. Inside the dark thoughts surge and whisper.
Take him. He can’t stop me. I am powerful. I am the Destroyer.
My hands convulse into fists as power swells. The hair on my arms stands on end and Rob either sees or senses the danger he’s in. He uncrosses his arms and holds them up between us.
“Quinn, calm down. Tell me where you’ve been, let me help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I yell. “Duncan is all I need.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to you, Quinn.”
“He doesn’t know,” I say, but the words hurt, cutting deep into my heart.
I want to cry but crying doesn’t look tough. No one ever fears a crying person. I shake my head, trying to deny the entire situation, all of the clan. I raise and drop my fists in frustration.
“Quinn, let me—”
“Let me talk to him,” I beg. “If he pushes me away, I’ll leave. I promise, but give me the chance to explain. Please.”
Something in my words or in my tone breaks through Rob’s resistance. He drops his arms, sighs, and shakes his head.
“Fine,” he says. “Don’t you hurt him, Quinn. Not again.”
I nod and Rob steps to the side, letting me pass. Agnes snorts and says something I’m sure is derogatory, but someone shushes her. My cheeks burn red-hot as I walk past Rob. The entire clan is staring but I stoically don’t look at the audience to my embarrassment.
I hold my skirts in one hand while trying to compose myself as I walk, shoulders square, head held high no matter that all I want is to hide from their judging gazes. This is bad enough with how Duncan must be feeling. The last thing I need is their judgment. But this is what it is, so I feign an air of calm and control and let them draw what conclusions they will.
When I crest the ridge to where the path switchbacks I see Duncan hustling along with an odd step-step-hop, still favoring the one leg.
“Duncan,” I call after him.
He speeds up. Damn it, he’s determined not to talk to me. Fine, but I’m not giving up because he’s trying to get away. He’s my choice. Mine. Nothing else in my life of late has been mine but he is. I hike my skirts and run.
When I studied history and read historical romances, no one talked about how freaking heavy these things are. The skirt is simple, but has layers, and the cloth is a long way from the modern production techniques of my home time. I’m in shape, thanks to the Druid, but it’s still hard work to run. If he wasn’t wounded, I don’t think I’d catch him without either stripping off the skirt or using magic, but he is and, in a few moments, only slightly out of breath, I grab his shoulder. He stops but doesn’t turn around. He hangs his head as he shakes it.
“Ach, leave me alone, woman.”
