Page 65 of Here in Your Arms
His eyes were closed now, but his mouth twitched again—this time with the faintest ghost of a smile, meant to appease her, no doubt. It was weak and a little crooked, but undeniably real. And somehow—wow—so handsome.
“This willna kill me, lass,” he murmured. “I’ve endured worse.”
She shook her head. “Now you smile,” she mused softly.
She shifted, about to stand, when Tiernan seized her wrist once more.
“Dinna stray, dinna get lost, and use the dagger if it means saving yer own life,” he instructed firmly. “I’ll beseriously pissedif ye dinna.”
For all the money in the world—for a chance to return instantly to 1978!—Rose couldn’t have stopped the smile that curved her lips. “I may look and seem helpless—and for the most part I admit that I am in this century—but I won’t get lost, Tiernan.”
She squeezed his hand once before gently pulling free. Then she stood, turning to face the direction he’d pointed. The forest loomed ahead—dense, uneven, unfamiliar—but she didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t a runner. Not really. The occasional jog, sure. But this wasn’t a treadmill or a morning in the park. This was for real. And Tiernan’s life depended on it, and so she paced herself. Not quite a sprint—she’d burn out too fast. Not a walk, either. Something in between. A light, steady rhythm that would carry her farther, faster. She focused on her breathing, on the feel of the dagger’s weight in her hand, on the ache that soon began to creep into her thighs as she picked her way across the uneven ground.
And with every step, she repeated to herself like a vow:Don’t get lost. Don’t slow down. Get help. Save Tiernan.
She had no doubt she’d be dead already if not for him. A lesser man would not have been able to take on three enemies, let alone tackle the last one with an arrow sticking out of his front and back. Possibly, his own men were already dead. Rose cringed at the thought, heat gathering behind her eyes and nose.
Stop. Focus.
Branches snagged at the plaid and leaves slapped and scratched her face. Rose kept moving, scanning the shifting light for anything that looked like a trail, anything that would lead her out of the woods and toward Dunmara. The deeper she went, however, the thicker the trees became. The light dimmed, filtered through layers of pine and oak. Shadows crept across the ground, swallowing even the imaginary path she thought she’d been following.
A rising sense of isolation chilled her. There was no path, no people, and no sound but the beat of her own heart. She was utterly alone. Her steps slowed. A tightness bloomed in her chest, pressing against her ribs. For one sharp second, she couldn’t breathe. What if she was going the wrong way? Whatif Tiernan’s vague gesture hadn’t been enough? What if she couldn’t find her way back? The thought hit harder than she expected—not just the fear of being lost, but the deeper fear of not returning to him. Offailinghim.
Stop.She closed her eyes for half a second and inhaled through her nose.Panicking won’t help. Think. Focus.
She opened her eyes and turned slowly in place, scanning her surroundings.
Then, deliberately, she picked a point ahead and began moving again—slower this time, more purposeful. And she started noting everything she passed—a low, moss-covered boulder shaped like a crooked knee; a fallen pine, its trunk snapped clean halfway up, bark stripped on one side by lightning or rot; a blackened patch of earth near a charred stump—old, but clearly once a burn site; and then, not far beyond, where the light was brighter—the edge of the forest, she presumed—a cluster of three white birch trees growing side by side, their bark stark and smooth against the green around them. Rose turned to memorize them. They would mark the edge of the forest, she decided.
With the picture of the trio of birches in her mind, she turned and began to jog again, focusing on a hill rising ahead, its incline steeper than she had anticipated. Her sneakers slipped slightly, her legs burning from exertion, but she dug in, pressing forward, refusing to slow. The grass thinned near the crest, giving way to dark, damp soil, the slick earth making each step harder. Reaching the top, she gasped, breathless, and nearly stumbled with relief.
Below, nestled between the hills, still quite a distance, a great stone keep loomed, its weathered walls standing stark against a backdrop of dark gray clouds and another black forest of trees beyond it.
Dunmara.
She inhaled sharply, squaring her shoulders. One last stretch of land to cross. Rose bolted down the hill, slipping, stumbling, forcing her legs to keep moving. Her boots hit solid ground as she reached the bottom of the hill, her lungs burning, her tousled hair flying over her shoulders as she sprinted across the last stretch toward the towering walls of Dunmara.
The gate came into view, half a dozen guards stationed there, eyes narrowing with sharp curiosity as she approached.
One of the soldiers—a broad-shouldered man with a grizzled beard—stepped forward, his expression shifting from confusion to recognition the moment his gaze landed on her.
“Lass?” he said, frowning.
She had seen him before, when she had first arrived at Dunmara.
His sharp gaze swept over her, taking in her breathless state, the raw panic in her eyes, the way her hands clenched into fists as she fought to steady herself. He didn’t waste time with questions.
“Get the laird,” he barked to another guard. “Now.”
Rose stopped, bending at the waist, putting her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She felt as if tears might rise again, so overwhelmed with hope and even a premature relief. She was halfway there, she’d made it to Dunmara.
The bearded guard was speaking to her, asking what happened. She hardly paid him any mind. Before she’d even fully caught her breath, she was moving again, rushing toward the keep. Where was Brody?
She rushed through the gates, past the startled glances of those in the yard, shoving through the doors of the keep—and nearly colliding with Brody MacIntyre as he attempted to exit the hall.
His hands shot out to grip her arms, steadying her.
His brows pulled together sharply, his green eyes scanning her with swift concern. “Rose?”
