ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13) (20 page)

Far across the crofts, in his family’s cottage, Aidan lay wondering how he could help the vulnerable woman he had seen fall before his whole town. There was some connection which he felt between them, and her desperation feeding his desire to help was only a part of it. Men like the new Laird had always made him sick to the stomach, though their numbers were great. Aidan’s sisters and mother were precious to him, and he did not see how other men could not recognise the value of these strong women. Or maybe they did, he thought, his cynicism coming into his thoughts once again. Maybe, just like with the crofters and their desire for independence, when these men saw strength or value of any kind, they were determined to crush it. Her strength had shown in her hard demeanour when faced with her husband’s condescending words and actions. She had become used to it, and already knew how to survive this. But why should she have to? Not for love, certainly. The couple had exchanged no feeling during the cold encounter he had seen. The Laird had no sympathy for his wife, and she did not dignify his behaviour with a response. Power, perhaps. If not for herself, then for her family. She could escape no more than she could turn her back on her whole life.

He felt the same way. The crofts were his duty, and he had to provide for the people. The burden was difficult to bear at times like these. Sometimes he felt as though its weight may crush him. The reign of the new, terrible Laird would only make it heavier. The thatched roof above him was strained in the wind, the cold night threatening to break in. Winter was coming, and this new ruler could make this cold season even more unfriendly. His thoughts were broken by a noise outside. Rising from his bed, he walked to the door, unsure what he would find. The temperature outside struck through him to his very core, but he walked on, curious as to what could be moving about on the croft at this hour. The sheep rarely ever had enough energy or independent thought to wander into another field, so surely it would be something else.

As his eyes adjusted he recognised the large, shadowy figure for what it was. Graceful and faintly shimmering in the dim starlight stood a horse. It trotted towards him, snuffling with its muzzle. He greeted it with an open palm, stroking its nose as it nuzzled into him. “Where did you come from?” he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer. This was not a croft horse. It was tall and lean, the curves of the slender muscles along its side unaccustomed to running through steep hills or pulling ploughs. It was one of the Laird’s horses, and it looked tired and confused. He knew what he had to do. If the horse was found on his family’s croft in the morning they would all be accused of stealing from the Laird. He shuddered to think what punishment they would be given. Whispering to it to remain where it was, he went inside and began to dress. His family did not stir, used to him leaving in the small hours of the morning to go on hunting trips.

He had nor ridden a horse since he was much younger, and it had been incomparable to this. This was a horse made for a rider, not for work in the fields. He felt its muscles working with his, stretching and tensing to match the movement of his own body. It responded and turned to dodge fields full of sheep and crops, taking him swiftly across the crofts. The air rushed through his hair, which he had left loose and now flowed out behind him into the night. It was exhilarating to move so fast with only the stars as a guide. They did not hesitate before galloping through the river to get to the castle quickly, breaking the reflections of the stars into many shards with the ripples they created. Once across, he slowed the horse’s quick steps to a quieter walk. Fearing retribution from the Laird, they were near silent as they inched closer to the stables.

This side of the river was silent. The comfort of livestock and the crofters had been with him his whole life, and their absence was strange to him. No small noises of snores or rustling grass reassured him that he was close to home. It was another world, strange and silent and contained by the stone of the castle. Seeing a flicker of movement in one of the windows near the top of the stone walls, he decided it would be best to stop here. With regret in his every movement, he dismounted and stroked the horse to say his farewells. This had been entirely different to his normal life, and he regretted letting the horse trot away by itself to the safety of the castle. His eyes lingered on the castle a moment longer and he caught another movement in the window before moving back to cross the river alone.

Hoping he had not been seen by the Laird, his journey back was silent and lonely. Guilt consumed him – perhaps his curiosity and getting so close to the castle would mean punishment for his family. Someone had been awake inside that castle, watching. The rush of flying past the crofts made them seem smaller, but now they consumed his world again. Escape seemed more tempting than it ever had before. He thought of stealing the horse back and running away on its back, flying past the life he knew to leave it behind. Hunting on the horse, and providing for himself alone. No responsibility, not duty, just him and the horse moving together as one. With some effort he shoved these thoughts away from his mind. The Laird’s possessions were the Laird’s alone, and to covet them was dangerous, even with a kinder Laird than this beast. Games like this were dangerous.

He returned to his home briefly to get his crossbow, and set out again at a fast-paced run. Hunting would cleanse him of these thoughts, make him forget this experience and replace it with a new kind of thrill. As he tried to silence his footfalls in the woods, something did not feel the same as usual. An emptiness had opened up inside him, gaping and hard to reach. He recognised it immediately. This was what he had felt many years ago, before rescuing the child. Ever since then he had felt powerful, like he could help the crofters. But now it expanded within him, sucking at his thoughts. The Laird’s wife appeared before him, her face streaked with tears. She smiled and walked towards him as he desperately tried to remove her from his mind. He ran on, the cold air burning in his throat. Muscles began to ache, but he pushed forward, running fast. Trying to forget, his thoughts swirled inside his head. There was nothing he could do, he reminded himself. He was as powerless now as he had been his whole life without realising. It did not stop his desire to help, which was now becoming almost a need.

Susan felt her eyes widen in wonder as he galloped across the river. A highlander, his gold hair streaming behind him in the wind as he rode her horse back to the castle, back to her. The horse had never liked her husband, sensing his cruelty before she had. She had seen him as he tore away from the stable earlier, into the dense trees. How had the highlander found him? He must have wandered onto the crofts. Strange, considering he usually steered clear of flocks of sheep. They seemed at ease together as they approached the castle. Lithe and strong, the rhythm of their movements came together in harmony. They rode on, closer and closer. She wished they were coming for her, to take her from this prison and away to a new life. But her dream was broken as the highlander realised how close he was getting, pulling up suddenly and stopping their ride. Leaping to the ground, he patted her horse on the nose and then pushed him away. He trotted to the stables reluctantly, and she understood how he felt. Returning to the Laird, wherever he was, always proved a trial of strength.

***

As the sun rose, both were deep in thought, the desire to escape their lives shifting their focus from other matters. Aidan was far into his hunt, but had not successfully caught anything. His mind was elsewhere, in a cycle of musings about human nature and whether he should – or could – help the Laird’s wife. These thoughts punctuated his usually grave concentration, fragmenting it. This broken concentration did not help him hunt, and he knew it. For Susan, distraction did not change anything. It was a welcome escape from her life – instead of trying to venture elsewhere with her mind, it happened for her. Still, it made her restless. Her pacing would wake up her husband if she kept it up any longer. She looked out at the clear day and decided to go for a ride, taking a fresh cloak instead of the still wet one from the previous day’s events.

Susan mounted with assistance from one of the stable-hands, thinking about how the highlander’s thighs had gripped and steered her horse effortlessly only hours before. The air was cool but warmed as the sun gradually ascended in the sky. They trotted briskly, the fresh air swelling in her lungs to fill her with a strange energy. It wasn’t a conscious decision, she told herself, but the horse seemed to know where she wanted to go. She let him run, admiring how quickly and easily he could leave for a new place. If he wanted, he’d be gone in a second. She was thankful for his loyalty to her, the one remnant she had left of a life without the Laird. When he began to turn away from the crofts, into the forest, she was confused. Trying to turn him back to the crofts, where the highlander must reside, he snorted and refused. Laughing at his resolve, she trusted him enough to let him take her where he wanted to go. Determination not lessened from her resistance, he fell into a canter through the shady trees, curving back to the river they had already come across.

It had been similar to this in her dream, only the sun was reflected in it now rather than the stars. The trees around the banks seemed to bow to the bubbling water as her horse walked up and down the river side. A red deer appeared, eyes wide as it looked at her horse, quickly turning and running away. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt relaxed. The Laird was far away, and did not know where she was. It was a refreshing kind of freedom to be out in nature, away from the stony confines of a castle.

She let out a sigh, full of all the emotions she had suppressed in her time with the Laird. The anger from yesterday prevailed, and though she knew she should not, she felt ashamed. It was not her fault he was cruel and inconsiderate, but it was so often laid on her that it became her burden too. She realised she was not alone when a yell responded to her loud sigh.

“You scared the deer away!” She couldn’t see the source of the voice, but there must have been someone there.

“I apologise, I didn’t realise hunting was important here,” she spoke into the dark green blur of forest.

“The first one I’d seen all day – how else are we going to eat?” He emerged from the shadows and he was angry, but it was not rash or violent. He simply seemed upset, and not with her, but with himself. The crossbow slung across his back was like a natural extension of his body as he removed the bolt with a long, fluid motion. The bright golden hair atop his head was a sure sign that this was the man she had seen earlier. Somehow, she was not surprised. It was as if she had known he would be her.

He, on the other hand, was shocked. “Lady, I am so sorry…” he stammered, falling into an awkward half bow, the nervousness and formality of his speech jarring with his strong face and demeanour.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I’m Susan.”

“Aidan,” he said, raising a hand. “I’m sorry for the – uh – rough greeting. Hunting is tricky today.”

Her horse, after standing still for a good few minutes, decided to walk over to him. As he nuzzled his face, she noticed that Aidan was smiling. His face opened up, eyes crinkling as he laughed.  “He recognises you from last night,” she said, still smiling, but there was something more serious in her eyes.

“You saw that?” he hadn’t seen her then. She had thought that as he looked back at the castle, their eyes had met briefly.

She nodded, suddenly seeming less happy. “The Laird could have seen it too. You have to be careful, I can’t imagine how he would treat you if he knew.” He was surprised to hear the defiance in her voice. She called him the Laird, and not her husband, though he was that too.

“Me and the rest of the crofters, right?” Thinking about what she was saying, last night seemed reckless. How could he call himself a good man if he risked the crofters’ wellbeing for his enjoyment? But that was what he did, even now. Every word of this conversation was a step closer to the edge of a precipice with a fatal drop.

Nodding again, she appeared sad and regretful. Seeing the emotions churning within her as she considered the fates of the crofters, people she did not even know, tore him apart. He could not understand how she had withstood the Laird. No-one he knew could be this empathetic or forgiving after living with such a monster. “How do you do it?” The question came out of his mouth before he could think it through. He needed to know how she found the strength to keep going, when the Laird brought her down every day.

She had thought this through, figured it out – he could see it as her face closed over. She took herself back to the first time she’d had to consider how she would do it. A week into their marriage, he had hit her. The fist swung through the air slowly, the alcohol on his breath changing the way he moved, but she did not think to defend herself. It had been unexpected, not something her mother had prepared her for when she had told her about marriage. She had broken down, a sobbing mess, but he’d only fed on it. He did not feel sympathy, this she had learnt. To him, she was a possession. So she closed herself off to it, transported herself away to some other place. “I escape.”