Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees was the only sound for a while, but Jocelyn was not bothered by that. It was not an awkward silence but a companionable one in which she sat now with Lachlan at her side. Every so often, they looked at each other and smiled faintly, and Jocelyn wondered exactly what Lachlan's expression meant.

She knew what she meant, and she knew that it was trouble. Because the moment she had seen how gentle he was with her sisters, she'd understood that his friendship with his horse was not the oddity she'd originally thought. It was a sign of something she'd never experienced in a man, a kind of hidden gentleness behind his deadly exterior. He could kill a man in ten different ways without blinking, but she was sure now that he could soothe a crying child just as easily.

They called him Wraith because he lived in the shadows, deadly and threatening, not present to his enemies until it was far, far too late to run. It suited him. But he wasn't only hidden in the shadows to skulk in the darkness, she understood it now. He hid himself in the shadows, disguising the gentlest soul under the toughest exterior. But the light was there waiting to be found.

And, God above, he was as handsome as he was kind. What a thing to be noticing now! But then again, when better to notice? Jocelyn's life had been one dramatic stroke after another since three years ago when Blair had been escorted off to a marriage that would never occur and found her true love. How could anyone say that there would be time in the future when the future was never stable? And how could it be wrong to enjoy a moment, this moment? Here, with Lachlan not as her escort, not as a guard, not as the Wraith, but as a man, a handsome man, one who had made her heart beat in strange new ways that she was not ready to give up.

When Lachlan was not looking at her, his gaze kept trailing back to the loch. She saw his expression soften as he gazed over the water, and she realized that now, if ever, was her chance to speak. It didn't matter about what. She just knew that, right now, she wanted to be speaking to him, and hearing him talk back to her in return.

"Ye seem tae ken this place," she ventured, noticing the wistfulness in his gaze. "It isn't just a random loch fer ye, is it?"

He turned to her and gifted her with such a brilliant smile that her breath caught in her throat. It shed the years from him, making him look younger, sweeter. "Ye're right," he admitted. He seemed troubled, wrestling with something for a moment, then shrugged. "Ye told me about yer youth at Shellycoat's Leap. I told ye I ken it, which was true, but only in passin'. Me own childhood was spent at a different body of water."

"This one," Jocelyn prompted. "Ye used tae come here?"

His smile faded, but not into sadness, just thoughtfulness. "Aye. When I was young, this was me kingdom, from this water tae the hills ye can see beyond it. I was a lonely lad, but when I was here, I was free."

Jocelyn imagined it for a moment; the small boy with dark hair and an uncertain face clambering over the rocks, gaining confidence as he went. Had he chatted to the birds and fish? Had he, even then, kept to the shadows?

"Does this place have a name?" she asked after a moment.

He nodded. "Loch Skuggi," he replied.

She frowned. "That's…that is nae a Scottish name."

Lachlan chuckled. "Ye're right, but it is nae technically a loch either, much too small, ye ken. The Norse named it such nonetheless, back in the day. Do ye ken what Skuggi means in Norse?"

She shook her head.

He smiled faintly. "Shadow," he replied, and when she laughed, he did too.

"Well! At least ye have a theme," she teased him. "So ye visit often?"

"It's technically property of the McFerguson clan, though it's a little bit outside of the clan's main borders. The Crown granted it a while back for some favor or the other that nobody can remember. With James's permission, I hope tae one day build a home here," Lachlan said, then his expression blanched. As if he was worried he'd said too much, he looked away.

"Lachlan?"

"Never mind all this. Forget I said anythin', it's nae—it isnae important," Lachlan said hastily. "Dinnae ye be wastin' yer time and energy dwelling on old stories frae somebody like me. It's nothin'."

"It's obviously nae nothin'," she argued. "Lachlan, it's like there's two different people in ye. There's the Wraith, this fearsome warrior of the shadows, and that's all well and good. Fearsome, strong, and everythin' else. But there's this other man who peeks out sometimes. Ye were there in the grass at Agatha's cottage, and again in that river when we were fetchin' the water and herbs. I see it when ye talk tae yer horse and when ye were talkin' tae me sisters earlier. I see it in yer eyes when ye look at that loch, and…well, other times, too." She wasn't yet confident enough to add, when ye look at me.

He stared at her, then shook his head. "So? What of all of that?"

"I want tae ken ye," she insisted. "Nae just the person that ye project tae everyone else, nae the Wraith, but ye, Lachlan. I want tae ken every part of ye, tae understand how both men can exist in one person. I want tae understand ye."

"And what if I simply cannae be understood?" he demanded, his voice suddenly sharp and angry. "Or dinnae deserve tae be? What then? What if I say somethin', and it isnae what ye want tae hear?"

He fell silent, and once again there was no sound but the crackling fire.

Jocelyn wasn't sure what to do. She didn't want to push him, but she ached to know more. But before she could speak, he was talking again, all in a rush.

"I'm sorry. I didnae mean tae be rude, really." He took a deep breath. She was about to tell him it was fine and he didn't need to say more, but he kept going. "I came from nothin', Jocelyn," he told her. "Ye cannae imagine. I didnae have any of what ye might have taken fer granted, even in yer prison. I dinnae mean tae say that I had it more difficult only…only that the bairn I was then had nowhere else to turn. I had nay kingdom, nay name, until I made one."

"And so ye found the McFergusons?" Jocelyn guessed. "Is that how ye ended up in their service?" She desperately wanted to ask about his family, but she resisted. She remembered how angry he had been at Agatha's prodding, and she wanted no part of that anger now. She felt she was walking on a thin layer of ice that had formed over a stream, and one wrong step would crack it and send her tumbling into the waters below, ruining any chance she had of reaching the other side for good.

"Aye," he agreed. "I was young, but determined. I started the lowest of the low in the clan, but I worked me way up. Proved me loyalty, over and over. I did everythin' I could tae rise through the ranks and claim me own fate, and fie on whatever plan any god or man might have had for me."

His voice rose a little in passion at the end, and Jocelyn gawped at him. She'd never seen him so animated, and even as he spoke with strength, she could understand the vulnerability it must have taken for him to say such things to her. The honor of being the one to listen was dizzying, and she found herself moving closer, placing her hand over his.

"Ye took destiny intae yer own hands, uh?" Jocelyn asked breathlessly, meeting his eyes. "Ye took control of yer life, nay matter the circumstances, nay matter the consequences?"

"Aye," he replied. "I believe we make our own fate. If we push hard enough, that is."

Her hand tightened over his. "Well, now. That's a thought I can relate tae very well."

Something changed in that moment as he looked at her in surprise and their eyes locked. Heat flooded them that had nothing to do with the campfire, two bright, burning internal flames that twisted inside them and reached out to one another. Jocelyn knew she could not restrain it any more, could not prevent her heart and her body acting as they willed, and she realized that she no longer wanted to. Why should she? Their destinies were their own, just as Lachlan said.

Who moved first, Jocelyn wasn't sure. She knew only that the next moment their lips were pressed against each other's, her arms tight around his neck, his holding firmly at her back. The spark of the touch made her gasp against him, and his mouth parted too in response, his tongue venturing forward and finding welcome.

"Mm," she murmured, and he let out a soft growling sound of his own in response that sent frissons of electricity sparking along her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her hands curled into his hair, and in response his fingers tightened against her back, pressing hard enough that she could feel them plainly through the thin material of her dress. They were impossibly close, yet still not close enough, and as Jocelyn kissed him fiercely, she could only wish for more.

How long did the kiss last? Minutes? Hours? Days? Jocelyn could not say for sure, and nor did she care. Time stopped at that moment. There was no plot, no prophecy, no danger. No fraught journey nor cousins out to kill them. Nothing existed right then but Jocelyn and Lachlan, and the way it felt in his arms, the way they fit together as though they'd been born for this exact thing and nothing else.

Or, no, perhaps that wasn't it. They'd been born without destinies and fates, without the rules of a prophecy that haunted people like Bram, and both changed their fate alone. He'd chosen to leave his old life behind, and she had chosen to escape, regardless of the risk. And those choices, those decisions to change the path that the world had laid out for them, had led them to this moment; here, together, in each other's arms.

Not a destiny, but a choice. A choice that Jocelyn would make over and over again for as long as God would allow.

A loud drumming of hooves shattered the illusion, and the pair of them broke apart. Jocelyn whipped her head around to the camp, but the girls were still sleeping and the four horses were still tied in place, though Stormcloud had his ears pricked up on high alert as Lightning nickered quietly and the other two shuffled their hooves nervously.

Lachlan cleared his throat and let go of her, letting their bodies separate, and Jocelyn immediately mourned the loss.

"A lass like ye should nae be kissin' a lad like me," he told her softly. As he spoke, he was quickly putting out the fire, smothering it with some urgency, obviously making sure they wouldn't be discovered by whoever's horse had interrupted him.

"And why nae?" she demanded, bristling. "Did ye or did ye nae just say that we make our own fates?"

He gave her a surprised look, then followed it with an exasperated chuckle. "Very clever," he told her. "Now stay here."

"What?"

It was a stupid question and she knew it. She could hear as well as he could how the horses still thundered nearby, and in the deadness of the night she could also faintly make out some sounds that might have been men's voices. Despite the warmth she'd felt moments before, a dose of cold fear trickled down her spine.

Lachlan set his mouth in a grim expression that she could only just see through the gloom. "I need tae go see who's there and what's goin' on. Those hooves are far too close for me likin'."

Jocelyn immediately drew herself up, getting to her feet just a second after he did. "I'm coming with ye," she declared, but Lachlan was already shaking his head.

"Ye are nae," he told her. "Ye'll stay put, understood?"

"But—"

"I'm nae askin'," he insisted. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Someone needs tae stay with yer sisters, and the horses and provisions as well. Stay put."

"Lachlan, I?—"

He shook his head. "I could nae forgive meself if somethin' happened tae ye while I could avoid it."

That at last made her falter, and he took advantage of the moment to briefly kiss her forehead then slip away, as he did so well, into the darkness.

Jocelyn stared at the spot where he'd been for a moment, then slowly picked her way through the night toward the bedrolls where her sisters slept. She curled up between them, careful not to wake them, and waited with her eyes wide open, staring into the dark.

Deirdre rolled over and Aoife sniffled in her sleep, the latter probably lost in a bad dream. Jocelyn pulled her sister close, gently so as not to wake her, and stroked her hair as she'd done so many times before.

"Sleep, me sisters," she whispered. "We're protected. Dinnae ye worry."

For her, though, sleep wouldn't come until Lachlan returned, she knew that much. But she also knew she had to be quiet, and laying here by her sisters was the best way to do that. Her heart pounded in her chest, thundering with a combination of fear for Lachlan, nervous anticipation, and…well, a different kind of excitement too.

Now was not the time to think of that kiss, but it was also the only time. She needed to know more, to experience more, and she wanted Lachlan by her side to do it. They would make their own destinies, their own choices, and if she had any say in it, they would make them together. Life had changed irrevocably in those few moments, though Jocelyn had no idea yet exactly what that would mean for any of them going forward.

Was this love? No, it was too new for that, at least for now. But it was something, burning bright within her, a flame that could not be so easily doused as a campfire. Whatever it meant, Lachlan was as much a part of her now as she was of him, and she would not let that flame die until she had a chance to let it live.

So ye had better be safe, she whispered under her breath. Or else, do ye understand me?

She knew he couldn't possibly have heard her, but she said it anyway. She whispered it to the shadows, hoping the words would carry to the Wraith's ears. Keep yerself safe as ye go, Lachlan. Keep us all safe. And bring yerself back tae me.