The Hunter Read online

  Jesus! What had he done? “You don’t mean that.”

  The look she gave him told him differently. His skin, which had been feeling unusually hot, suddenly felt covered in a layer of ice.

  “And that is exactly why I do. You told me once what you wanted in a wife. I should have listened to you. Maybe this is much my fault. I wanted to make you something you were not. You are not Magnus, and I am not Helen. I hope one day you find a woman who will be content to let you cosset and protect her—think for her. But that is not me.”

  She stood and started to walk toward the door.

  He liked it better when she was angry with him. This cold, calm, indifferent stranger scared the hell out him. I’m losing her. What can I do?

  He felt as if he were falling—flailing—over a mountain without a rope. The hill was steeper, the ice harder and more slippery, and he couldn’t dig in his heels to stop from sliding. “Wait.”

  She turned.

  “You can’t go.”

  For one foolish heartbeat, Janet thought he meant to call her back because he’d changed his mind. That he would fight for them, as hard as she was sure he would fight for the king or his clan. But she was wrong—again.

  “I can’t take the chance that you will try to run,” he said.

  On the pile of disappointment he’d heaped upon her feet, one more stone shouldn’t make a difference. But it did. The mission. Of course, he was thinking about the mission. Not about her.

  Although perhaps he did understand her a little after all. For she had no intention of returning with him to Dunstaffnage. She never should have let him take her away from Roxburgh in the first place. She had to get back. She would not take the risk in missing something important. She would deal with her former brother-in-law and his “plans” for her when she was done.

  Janet straightened her back, calling on every ounce of her earl’s daughter blood. Though he towered over her, even from a few feet away, she still managed to give him a long, regal look down her nose. “So I am to be treated as a prisoner?” She held out her hands, crossed at the wrists. “Will you bind me with chains, or will rope be enough?”

  Ewen swore. She saw him shift and wince as he put weight on his leg. It was obviously hurting more than he’d let on, but she bit back the words of concern that leapt to her tongue. He hadn’t wanted her help when she’d offered it. He hadn’t wanted anything from her. But just like always, she hadn’t wanted to hear it. She hadn’t wanted to hear “no.” She thought she knew what was best.

  At least this time, she was the only one hurt. That is, assuming he didn’t tell Robert. She hoped he wasn’t foolish enough to do so now. There was no reason. He need not lose everything for taking what she’d freely given. She wished she could say the same. For seven and twenty years she didn’t know anything was missing. Now she did.

  “Jesus, Janet. It’s not like that. I just don’t want you to do anything … rash.”

  He just kept throwing stone after stone. Eventually she hoped they would stop hurting. “How fortunate I am to have you to look out for me.”

  “Damn it. I didn’t mean it like that. Will you give me your word you won’t try to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused, staring at her. “You’ll run the moment I turn my back.”

  She lifted her chin, not denying it. “So I am your prisoner?”

  His mouth tightened. “You are the woman with whose safety I have been entrusted. I’m not going to let you go.”

  A shiver ran through her at his words, but she knew it was foolish to attribute anything meaningful to them. Letting go was exactly what he was doing to her.

  “I will fight for us, Janet. Just trust me.”

  She’d done that, and look where it had brought her. He was making it perfectly clear what he thought of her: she was a mission—a duty—nothing more. Her voice shook. “I am not sleeping here with you.”

  His mouth tightened. “Yes, you are.”

  “You are going to have to drag me to Dunstaffnage, for I will not go with you willingly.”

  The muscle below his jaw ticked ominously. “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”

  “I will hate you for it.”

  His eyes held hers, and if he had not cured her of illusions, she might have thought she saw true emotion in them. “I hope you don’t.”

  Janet knew the battle was lost for now. He would not be dissuaded. He was intractable—a stone wall blocking her path. Suddenly the strength left her. It was as if the events of the day caught up with her all at once. Battered and bruised to the depths of her soul, all she wanted to do was roll up into a ball and cry herself to sleep. But he wouldn’t even give her that.

  She looked to the bed, a stab of pain knifing through her. She could still feel him between her legs, the dull ache a painful reminder of what they had shared. “You cannot expect me to share a bed with you?”

  He shook his head, looking sadder than she’d ever seen him. “You can sleep on the pallet. I don’t think I’ll be doing much sleeping.”

  “The cost of guard duty.”

  He didn’t respond to her jab but rubbed his leg unconsciously, as if trying to get a knot out, and winced.

  She turned away so she wouldn’t be tempted to care.

  “I’m sorry, Janet. I never meant to hurt you.”

  But he had. Irreparably.

  On her way to the bed, she picked up his shirt and tossed it to him. The naked chest that had only minutes ago given her such pleasure now hurt to look at. He put it on without comment.

  She lay down on the bed and he sat before the fire, his back leaning against the wall and his legs stretched out before him. Janet had no intention of sleeping. She crawled under the plaid and watched him from under half-lidded eyes.

  He’d retrieved a skin before he sat, and from the long swig he took, she suspected it was whisky.

  With any luck, he would drink himself into oblivion.

  Twenty-two

  Janet woke with a start and shivered. Good God, it was freezing in here!

  Here. She blinked into the shadowy darkness, recognizing the rustic wooden walls of the barn. Suddenly everything that had happened came back to her in a wave of hurt and disappointment.

  How could he have done this?

  She cursed under her breath. She wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. Thank goodness for the cold. The brazier must have gone out—

  Suddenly, the realization of what that meant hit her. Her eyes shot to where Ewen had positioned himself against the wall. He sat with his head slumped forward like a rag poppet. She didn’t need to see his face from behind the silky veil of thick, dark hair to know that he was asleep. Dead asleep. Or rather, passed-out-unconscious asleep, if the discarded skin of whisky by his side was any indication.

  She couldn’t believe it. The perfect soldier had fallen asleep on duty. It seemed so completely out of character, it gave her pause. Perhaps someone had been listening to her prayers after all. But she quickly told herself not to count her blessings.

  Carefully—very carefully—she rose from the makeshift bed. Her heart pounded the entire time, watching him for any signs of movement, but he didn’t so much as twitch a single muscle.

  She drew in a deep, uneven breath. Less carefully, to test him, she stood. Every tiny sound she made reverberated in her ears like a bell, but still he didn’t budge.

  Heaven’s gates, how much had he drunk? Was he all ri—

  She stopped, reminding herself not to count her blessings.

  She looked at him. Looked at her boots. Looked at the bag by his side—a bag that she knew held her other gowns, money, and what was left of their food. She looked at the horse in the stall at the back of the barn.

  Could she do this?

  Her heart lurched, but then continued to pound. Yes. Yes, she could. At least, it was worth a try. She couldn’t stay with him.

  She didn’t know how much time she had, but she hoped she still had a few hours bef