Chapter 4

They traveled for about an hour. The breeze was refreshing, much better than sitting in a carriage. If she were not being led to an unknown place by a savage group of men, she supposed she might have enjoyed the trip. Soon, she saw that they were going up a hill. The reality of her situation hit her with full force. Yes, she loathed the prospect of being married to Commander Pierce, but she was certain that her fate with these savages would be even worse. She had to escape, and she had to do it now.

"I am thirsty," she said to her captor. She received no answer, and for a moment she thought that he had not heard her. But then he let go of her waist and bent to fetch the canteen.

Jane threw herself off the horse. The impact of her body on the hill was painful, but she did not let herself dwell on it. She rolled down the hill, her form catching dirt. She could hear her captor calling her a crazy woman, but that meant nothing to her. On his horse, it would take him a while to navigate a turn, and that time was all she had to escape.

Standing up with her hands tied was a little tricky, but she managed it all the same. Judging by the pricks she felt on her legs, she knew they were bruised. Her dress was dusty and in tatters. She swore that she could taste sand.

She looked down to see that her dress barely covered her cleavage. With her hands tied, there was no way to remedy the situation. Besides, she had bigger concerns. She could hear her captor's horse whinnying behind her, and she bolted. "Jane Marsh!" she could hear him call. She did not as much as look back.

Besides the hill, the terrain was very much covered by thick forest. She frowned. She had to get away, but she could get lost in here. She had no idea what beasts populated Scotland, but if they were anything close to the ones in England, she knew it would be a better option to go back and face fate.

But she could never do that.

Jane looked around the forest frantically, searching for something, anything, to give her hope. She saw it then, a small cottage almost completely hidden by the trees surrounding it. She let out a sigh of relief and began to run in its direction. She was there in a matter of minutes. She could still hear her captor calling to her through the forest. Jane flung open the door and stepped inside and immediately turned, her eyes looking for a lock with which to secure the door. She found none. Jane let out a gust of air in frustration and then turned back to look at the room.

Her eyes widened.

The walls were a dull brown, made of a kind of material that Jane had never seen before. They were lined by ornaments which resembled talismans. She smelled the scent of strong herbs, which was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. There were jars everywhere sitting on shelves made from tree branches. At first glance, they looked to be more than a hundred. Slowly, tentatively, she walked to one such jar. It was clear and bore little round spheres that looked suspiciously like the eyes of a small animal. She recoiled.

Was this place abandoned? That was what she might have concluded if a fireplace had not been lit in front of her, its embers dim.

"Jane," she heard suddenly. She gasped. It was not her captor. The voice was soft, feminine. It seemed to move her feet, of their own volition, to another room within the cottage. Standing in the middle of the room, facing Jane, was a smallish woman who looked to be in her sixties. Her hair was braided on both sides of her head, and the ends grazed her feet. There was an agility about her which Jane found disconcerting. Her eyes were tiny and quick. They twinkled with what appeared to be mischief. She radiated an ethereal aura that put Jane ill at ease.

"H-how do you know my name?" Jane asked.

The woman chuckled. "I ken everything about ye, dear girl, even things ye dinnae ken about yourself."

"That is impossible."

"Ye are a child," the woman said with a graceful but dismissive flick of her wrist. "Skepticism can be forgiven. Tae a degree."

"You cannot know everything about me." Jane countered.

"Is that so? What is the mystery behind yer eyes?"

Jane was confused, for it made no sense. She took a step back from the woman. She intended to bolt. She just had to be sure that she could.

"Dinnae fear child. Ye came tae me at the right moment," the woman said, "Ye must ken that the mark on the inside of yer left thigh is not a birthmark. It is a soulmate mark."

"What is a soulmate mark?" Jane asked, her tone low and cautious.

"The man destined tae be yer soulmate has the same mark as well."

This must be a hallucination brought on by her fall. That was the only explanation. She must have hit her head harder than she thought she had.

Jane bolted.

As she pushed the door open with her bound hands, she heard the woman's voice clearly: "Destiny is calling ye."

She crossed the door and began to run in another direction. She then heard a man's voice calling to her. She turned quickly and felt herself stumble. Were it not for the strong chest behind her and the strong hands that steadied her, she would have fallen to the ground. She turned to face her captor. Their eyes locked and stayed that way for several moments. She heard the whinny of his horse close by. "Ye are hard tae catch," he said, finally.

"You do not know the half of it," Jane replied.

Her captor laughed. It was a thrilling sound, a sincere sound, much unlike the mocking chuckles that had been his stock in trade in the little time she had spent with him. It was over too quickly. "Jane Marsh," he said, his tone serious, "I ken ye are scared. Ye have every reason tae be. But I give ye me word. I will nae mistreat ye."

"Why keep me at all?" Jane asked breathlessly. "Ye could simply let me go."

"That, I am afraid," he said, his chin set in a firm line, "I cannae dae."

"Your supposed benevolence means nothing then," Jane said, her eyes hard and judgmental. "It is not even, as a matter of fact, benevolence."

"I assure ye, it is naething personal." For the first time, he looked down at her chest, which was all but bare, her generous bosom in plain sight. His gaze lingered.

"It seems quite personal when you are looking at me with indecent eyes," Jane said drily.

Her captor smiled. "Jane Marsh, I have seen a lot of naked lasses fer sure, but never one as pretty as ye. Yer bastard of a fiancé is a lucky man."

Color rose on Jane's cheek, and she felt a sensation on her skin that she had not even known she could feel until today. She could not name it. Wanting to change the focus from her to him, she went for a safe choice. An easy one. "Do you…do you have a name?" she asked to distract herself from the pleasure that she felt at his comment. Later, she would sit by herself and dissect the honesty of it. For now, she locked it away.

"Alistair," her captor replied.

"Alistair," Jane repeated.