Chapter Ten

As they pounded over the uneven terrain of the Rough Bounds Forest through the day, suspicion that the stubborn Scot was trying to make her so miserable that she’d apologize became a certainty—or almost one. Maisie realized there was no such thing as an “almost certainty,” but she clung to the notion as she tried to stay rigid enough that she wouldn’t brush against him every time they hit a root or jumped over a fallen limb. It was nearly impossible, though.

She’d regretted the horrid words the minute they’d left her mouth, and in mortification, she’d tried to rescind them, but he hadn’t let her. And now... well, now she was angry, in pain, and absolutely refused to be broken by the man. So despite the press of her bladder, the throbbing in her bottom and head, the dryness of her throat, and the growing ache in her empty belly, she kept her lips sealed, determined not to be the first one to speak.

They galloped through the forest at a breakneck pace, and as the thick forest canopy continued to swallow more of the sunlight and day edged toward twilight, the temperature began to drop. Now not only was she uncomfortable, hungry, and tired but she was growing increasingly colder. She glanced to their right, where Father Ollie rode behind Eppie on a large black horse, and Maisie hoped that one of them would soon call out to stop, but as they moved off one trail, up a winding mountain path, and down again, Maisie’s hope dwindled with the last rays of sunlight.

Shadows danced around her, and gooseflesh covered her. Though she would never admit to liking a single thing about Graeme, she did appreciate his heat. Warmth radiated off the man, and given she was pressed between his muscled thighs and plastered against his solid chest with his arms on either side of her, she could not help but be grateful for the bit of warmth he provided. In truth, she found herself leaning back against him a bit, her back aching terribly from trying to remain stiff all day.

When the last of the twilight gave way to darkness, Graeme finally pulled his horse to a halt, and she let out a relieved breath, trying to scoot back to dismount the horse and make for the woods. Her bladder was going to explode if she didn’t relieve it soon. A hand came to her arm as she turned to slide off.

“What are ye doing?” Graeme demanded as Eppie and Father Ollie came up alongside Maisie and Graeme.

Maisie frowned. “Dismounting. I assume we’ve stopped to make camp for the night.”

“Nay. I only halted to light a torch to guide our way.” Maisie clenched her teeth to keep from screaming, and the suspicious shaking of Graeme’s chest that felt much like a chuckle told her he knew she wanted to stop. “Unless,” he said, his tone provoking, “ye need to stop, I dunnae.”

“Of course, I dunnae need to,” she ground out, “but I imagine Father Ollie or Eppie wish to halt for the night.” She looked to them both and prayed one of them did, indeed, wish it.

Eppie gave her an incredulous look. “If ye’re implying I need to stop, ye’re mistaken.”

Och! Why did the woman have to be so stubborn. “Father Ollie?” Maisie bellowed. “Do ye need to, er, relieve yerself mayhap, or eat, or simply get off the horse?”

“Whenever ye need to lass,” the priest responded to Maisie’s utter frustration and to Graeme’s obvious amusement. She could feel his silent laughter continue; devil take the man.

“Why dunnae ye admit that ye wish to stop?” Graeme asked, to her further irritation.

“Because I dunnae need to.” That technically was the truth. She could continue, though it would be miserable.

A derisive noise came from Graeme.

“What is that for?” she asked.

“That’s for the irony of the situation.”

“Explain yerself,” she demanded.

“Ye want me to believe yer family is nae a bunch of liars, that yer brother is nae lying about kenning yer father was a traitor or kenning Eppie and I were prisoners at the abbey—and that ye did nae ken it, either—yet here ye sit lying.”

“I am nae lying! Nae being able to keep going is nae the same as nae wanting to keep going.”

“’Tis verra convenient for ye to distinguish truths that way. Is that the process ye use to claim yer brother, the laird of the Campbell clan, could nae have possibly kenned for eighteen years that one of his guards was holding me and Eppie captive?”

She sucked in her breath. When he said it that way, it did sound implausible. But no. She squeezed her eyes shut on the horrid thought that would destroy all she held dear. “Brody would nae ever be so cruel.”

Graeme snorted. “If ye did nae ken before of yer brother’s crimes against my family, ye now are choosing willful ignorance, and that is a crime of its own. Ye should be ashamed.”

When shame did heat her, she was infuriated. Her brother was the best man she knew. He worked tirelessly to meet the needs of the clan, to keep them safe, and he always treated everyone with fairness and kindness. “Ye,” she seethed, “are a barbarian.”

“And ye,” he replied, “are a conniving Campbell.” With that, he dismounted and looked up at her. “I’ll light a torch to guide us to ride through the dark until ye admit ye need to stop. Mayhap once ye start to speak the truth about basic things, ye’ll learn to do it about more serious, life-threatening matters.”

“I dunnae need to stop,” she bit out, aware that she was walking a fine line between truth and deception in this case. Still, that did not mean she normally did such a thing. “If I need to stop, I will say so,” she added.

“We shall see how long it takes ye to face this truth,” he replied in an infuriatingly smug tone.

She had to be miserable. He was . They’d been riding for so long, he no longer felt his arse, and he’d passed the stage of mere hunger some time ago. He was ravenous, and he could likely drink a full wine skin in one swallow. He wanted her to admit she had to stop, but he was starting to think the lass would rather stare down death than admit the truth.

She was a willful thing, and a loyal one. Though the loyalty to her brother was misplaced, it didn’t make it less of a noble quality. That didn’t mean he trusted her, though, nor did it mean he was any happier now about being handfasted to her than he had been earlier. He knew full well he had goaded her into silence, but at this point, he wanted to see just how long it would take her to face the truth, if she would at all. It would show him if she had the ability to accept the more daunting truth, if she didn’t already know it, that her brother was treasonous and had kept Graeme and Eppie prisoners.

One hour slipped into the next, and the numbness crept from his arms to his legs. Maisie slumped against him more, having, he suspected, lost her ability to remain stiff. The only problem with that was her bottom kept rubbing his staff, and apparently, his lust wasn’t affected by his weariness the way the rest of him was.

When he looked to his right, Eppie shot daggers at him and he knew she wanted him to call a halt to whatever contest of wills was occurring between him and Maisie. He didn’t want to, though. Whoever lost this first match would likely lose the long game, and that was something he refused to do. Just as he’d made up his mind to keep going, lighting crackled and illuminated the sky, followed by booming thunder. Then the heavens let loose a torrent of rain.

Maisie let out a strangled cry that was so pitiful, he opened his mouth to call a halt, but she said, “Ye win! Now let us stop before we all catch our death riding through the rain.”

He grinned as he pulled up on his horse’s reins, and when he looked at Eppie, she was shaking her head at him. He winked at her, and she scowled back as he dismounted. He reached for Maisie to help her off her horse, but she slapped his hands away. “I dunnae want nor need yer help—nae ever!”

“Ever, eh?”

She nodded, as she shoved wet strands of hair back before sliding off the horse to stand directly in front of him. She glared up at him, chest heaving.

“So ye are going to make yer own shelter, forage for yer own food, and cook it, all without my aid?” he asked, sinfully enjoying prodding her.

“Aye!” she shouted and stomped away from him through the rain toward the woods.

Eppie came to stand beside him, as did Father Ollie. “How far are ye going to push the lass?” she asked.

He thought about it a moment. “When she’s miserable enough, she’ll ask for my help. Then I’ll demand the truth before giving it.” When Eppie frowned at him, he asked, “Why are ye giving me that look?”

“It may be that she’s already given ye the truth she kens.”

“Then she’ll need to face the possibility that her brother lied to her.”

“Aye, well, just ye be careful that yer little plan does nae kill the lass. Ye may nae like her, but she’s currently yer handfasted wife; therefore, ’tis yer duty to keep her from harm.”

“Dunnae fash yerself, Eppie. My plan will work.”

But several hours later, after he had set up shelters for himself, Eppie, and Father Ollie, as well as hunted, skinned, and cooked a rabbit, when the rain paused, Maisie was still trying to get her shelter set up. She finally trudged over to the fire where Graeme, Father Ollie, and Eppie all sat with full bellies. She plopped on a rock opposite of the rest of them, looking longingly at the sticks by the fire that had contained the rabbit meat.

“Pride is a sin,” Father Ollie said out of nowhere.

Maisie scowled at the priest, and Graeme barely contained his desire to laugh. “There’s a stick of rabbit left,” he offered, “and I can show ye how to set up yer shelter.”

Her gaze met his across the fire. “At what price?”

He could see the flames reflecting in her eyes. The lass was a sight to behold dressed as she was and full of indignation. “I’m willing to admit that ye may nae have kenned of yer brother’s sins, but ye must admit he may have lied to ye.”

“Nay,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “My brother is honorable, and ye are wrong. Ye clearly dunnae ken how loyalty and love work.”

He clenched his teeth. It was useless at this point. “Ye’ll keep an empty belly then and sleep on the ground tonight.”

“Better to suffer hunger and discomfort than to forfeit my honor simply to get yer aid. Ye’re a terrible husband so far!” she flung out, jumped up, stomped past them all, and went to lie on the ground by a rock.

“I think I’ll retire, too,” Father Ollie said, showing he had no actual knowledge of what was happening around him, but Graeme was in no mood to explain. He felt guilty that Maisie was sleeping on the ground and had not had a meal, and it irritated him that he should feel any concern for her when she had none to spare for what he and Eppie and been through.

After the priest made his way from them to his shelter, Graeme found himself looking at Maisie lying on the ground once more. “Ye’re staring at the lass,” Eppie said.

“Aye,” he admitted. “I’ve a begrudging admiration for her stubbornness.”

Eppie snickered. “That’s because ye have that same quality.”

“Mayhap,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking upon how she aided us at the abbey,” Eppie said.

“Aye?” he replied, a bit surprised.

Eppie nodded. “Aye. It seems she’d nae do that, if she knew who we were since her brother had clearly given an order for us to be killed.”

“Mayhap,” Graeme grumbled.

“Graeme,” Eppie chided, “Ye’re judgement is clouded by yer thirst for revenge.”

“It may be,” he admitted, “but even if it is, even if she did nae ken who we were, until she faces the truth of her brother’s deeds and can prove she can be trusted, we have to assume she kinnae.”

“Aye, agreed.” Eppie yawned and stood. “So watch yer back.”