Rosalie smoothed out the page in the tallow candlelight. Her ears perked and strained for footsteps, ready to stuff it beneath the blankets at the first sign of an intruder. The scrawl of his handwriting melted her heart.
Dearest Rosalie,
I am not a man of many words. I hope this letter does not bring you trouble with your people. I cannot stand the thought of never speaking to you again. You have enchanted me with your charm and beauty. Your smile has haunted me through the night. I must see you again. I know you said we are never to meet, and under any other circumstance, I would not ask a lady such as yourself to risk her reputation, but I fear my heart will not still until I speak with you once more.
Please, speak with me. Maybe if I understood, I could stay the pain in my chest. I shall wait in the moonlight where we first met. If you do not come, I will understand and swear, as a Gregor, not to trouble you again.
With hope and the sincerest of intentions,
Declan of Clan Gregor.
Rosalie read the words over twice more. Her lips gasped for breath as she held his words tightly to her chest. Had she breathed at all while she read his letter? She could feel the violent coursing of blood, pulsing her heart, and aching her head. She would go to him—even if it were only to tell him the truth and say goodbye to him forever.
Rosalie tossed and turned, trying to catch some sleep while there was still a chance. A part of her wished she could fall asleep and not wake up until the morning so that God would take the choice from her. There was no such luck; her mind could not stop thinking of Declan. After what happened in the woods with Enoch, the thought of his kind words offered a tantalizing escape.
She listened with tight muscles as Anna climbed in and undressed. “Rosalie,” she whispered.
Rosalie kept her back turned and feigned sleep, unable to muster the energy to conceal her emotions. Anna curled up next to Rosalie, nestling her head into her shoulder. Rosalie laid awake, listening for her friend’s breathing to shallow and deepen with sleep.
Oh, how she longed to confide everything in her, but she knew what she would say. Anna would be hurt, terrified of being abandoned by her only friend, someone so close they were like sisters. Rosalie turned so she could see Anna’s face. Her heart ached at the sight of her cherub-like face tucked in, half-concealed by the blankets.
The love she felt for Anna swelled within her. She felt like she was betraying her by leaving even now. The curve of her face and the memory of her words solidified what she would do for her family. Yes, she would say goodbye to Declan. She would make him understand.
Rosalie planted a soft kiss on Anna’s forehead. Maybe there was still a way out of the arrangement set up between Magda and Enoch. Maybe there was a way for them all to be happy.
By the time the camp fell silent with slumber, Rosalie had strengthened her resolve to do right by her loved ones. Magda’s words about men rippled through her. She was right—despite his words and the effect they had on her heart, Declan was still a stranger. Who knew if he would be any better than Enoch? It was better to keep what they had, fantasy as it might be, untarnished in her heat. It was better to end it before more grief and confusion could plague her.
Rosalie dressed in the dark, careful not to rouse Anna. Her breath hitched as her friend rolled over. She froze in place, holding her breath until she was sure Anna remained asleep.
It was a cold night, but Rosalie was grateful for the light of the moon. She feared to light a torch until she could hide it within the confines of the forest.
Owls hooted, and small animals darted in the brush around her, keeping her on edge. She quickened her pace as the darkness of the forest enveloped her. It wasn’t until the treetops blocked the moonlight entirely did she dare light her torch.
The wind whipped past her. As the fear of the dark combined with her excitement to see Declan, she set into a run, only slowed by the skirts pulled up around her shins. In the distance, the light of a warm fire welcomed her in, drawing her to its hearth. The young woman caught her breath and pushed aside the small bits of unruly red hair peeking from her hood.
Rosalie nearly choked at seeing him. He seemed surreal. The strong man’s features were unreadable, as fixed and smooth as granite. The resolve she had cultivated over the last hours started to slip, and with an accidental glance at his sapphire eyes, she cursed at herself for being so foolish in coming.
Declan’s eyes locked on Rosalie’s as if she was the only woman in the world. The way he looked at her then shook all the arguments she practiced throughout the day. What was she to do? What could she say?
The two stood in silence, captivated by one another’s presence until Declan cleared his throat. “I see ye got me letter?”
The warmth of his voice made her blush. She could hear the nervousness she felt reflected in his words. She looked down at her inward-turned feet. “Aye,” was all she could say.
“Would ye like tae sit down? Ye look cold.”
As he spoke, she shivered as much from the breeze as from the dread that gripped her heart. How could she say what was needed when he looked at her like that? It took her a moment to budge her feet from where her toes gripped the earth. She let out a long sigh as she sat down, then turned her gaze toward the warm fire cracking before her.
Declan sat down next to Rosalie. She tensed as his leg brushed against hers. He laced his hands beneath his knees as if trying to maintain control. Even with the layers of wool and leather dividing them, she could feel his strong thighs as if nothing separated them. His touch spread warmth in her thighs and cheeks. She hoped he couldn’t tell how flustered he made her.
Rosalie relaxed, feeling her leg press back against his. He was so strong. She felt a jolt of adrenaline race up from where they touched. Oh, God. She looked to the stars for strength.
“Tell me, lassie,” he said, his voice was calm and alluring, “tell me what plagues ye so.”
She felt tears burn her eyes, and tried to sniff them back. Her hands shook as one slipped free down her cheek. Before she could wipe it away, Declan’s rough yet gentle hand cradled her cheek. The pad of his thumb brushed it away as his heart melted from seeing her in pain.
Rosalie nuzzled into the comfort of his touch, savoring the brief reprieve it brought her. She took a deep breath, her nerves rattling inside her as she pulled away.
“I don’t know where tae start.” Her voice came out in a whisper. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, and she couldn’t look at him, not yet.
Declan stared at her. His fixed gaze made her feel small and yet magnified. She felt as if every thought and action of hers was scrutinized. It was difficult to tell whether his silence was an encouragement for her to speak or a judgment passed. Something about his eyes, though, made her feel safe. As if in confirmation, he loosened her delicate fingers, still clinging tight to the folds of wool, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement.
Rosalie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dove. The next moments rushed past her so quick, she had a hard time keeping track of everything she’d said. The moment her mouth opened, all of her fears, her secrets, seemed to rush out like an uncontrollable wave. She cursed and felt her breath catch seeing his face twist with pain. She turned her eyes away. This was it: having learned the truth about her situation, she knew he would reject her now.
Chapter Eight
She told him everything. With each new revelation, she expected him to retract his hand, but it never moved. She talked until there was nothing left except silence.
Time seemed to stall as she waited for a response. She peeked up at him—his eyes were lost somewhere in the fire. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. She wanted to run away, but every inch of her held in suspense.
It was a lot for Declan to digest. She knew that. The look on his face, though, filled her with fear. His features strained, as if he was trying to hold something fierce within himself. Rosalie saw the dangerous glint in his eyes and prayed his scorn w
as not towards her.
“Who is he?” He feared his voice betrayed his heart’s anxiety.
“Enoch,” Rosalie said, shame shrinking her insides into tight knots.
“The man from the castle,” he growled, sending a shiver through her.
“Aye,” she squeaked.
That did it. His hand released hers. By the glow of the fire, she could see his whole head and neck boil a dark red, like stewed tomatoes. He stood up, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he paced by the fire.
Rosalie pulled her knees in tight to her chest, uncertain of what might happen next.
Anger coursed through Declan’s veins as he thought of the day before, the man pickpocketing the villagers without shame.
It was worse than he feared. Rosalie confided in him what she could not tell Anna and Magda. It fell from her mouth before she could stop it.
“I’ve said too much.” Her voice cracked as tears threatened to pour out. This time, she doubted she could find the strength to stop them. “I should go.” She stood and turned, avoiding looking at him as she tried to skitter away into the forest.
Rosalie made it three steps away from the fire when his voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait,” Declan rubbed the wrinkle folding between his brows. “Don’t go.”
She turned toward him. His hands were braced on his hips as he stared into the fire. The flushed complexion in his cheeks calmed to their natural pallor, “Ye don’ even have yer torch.” Rosalie huffed in frustrated anger. She almost broke off in tears when he added, “An’ I want ye to stay.”
Rosalie bristled with a wave of protective anger, pulling her cloak closer to her body, “What’s the point?” she spat out, the tears now stinging her eyes and biting her cheeks in the wind.
“Cannae we,” he took a deep breath, “cannae we jus’ pretend fer the night?”
Rosalie softened. She didn’t know what to think and had expected him to flee by now.
Declan continued to speak in a calm, even tone as he stepped near her. “Cannae we jus’ pretend tha’ yer no’ a traveler an’ I’m not a chief? Tha’ we’re jus’ two people who happened tae cross paths?”
He stood over her. Rosalie tilted her chin up to look him in the eyes. The beating of her heart roared through her ears.
“What good’d tha’ do?” Her voice shook. “Wha’ would it ch—”
The word was lost as his lips pressed against hers. For a moment, all thoughts suspended as electricity pulsed through her, warming her heart and soul to the core. His strong hands slid around her waist. She felt herself crumple against him, her small hands gripping his broad chest. The beat of his heart hammered against her fingertips. A soft moan escaped her lips as they parted, eyes closed in bliss.
No words came to her, only surrender. Declan pulled her in tight to his body. She melted into the warmth and safety of his chest. How could a stranger make her feel this way? It shocked her.
Desire overwhelmed Declan as he ran his fingers through Rosalie’s auburn curls. He was a fool for getting mixed up in all this, but it sickened him to think of her married and tortured by the sadistic Enoch. Right then, as he cradled her to his chest, he knew that he would never let it happen. He would do everything in his power to protect her from him—her family be damned.
“Rosalie?” Anna’s voice cut through the clearing from the forest’s edge.
Rosalie pulled back from Declan as if his skin burned her.
“What are ye doin’?” Anna stammered.
Anna stood in the dark, her fingers wrapped tight around the opening in her wool cloak. Her eyes were wide with shock. Small scratches covered her hands from scrambling through the brambles in the dark.
“Anna, please.”
Declan stood silent, unsure of what to say.
“Do ye care for me at all?” Anna was furious. Her body shook in the wind. The dim light from the fire reflected off the tears streaking her round cheeks.
Guilt raked the lining of Rosalie’s stomach. “O’ course I do. Will ye sit down an’ let me explain?”
Rosalie moved toward her with her arm outstretched. She approached slowly as if Anna was an animal that might vanish in the night if startled. She grabbed her friend’s arm and tried to lead her toward the warmth of the fire.
Anna jerked back from Rosalie. “Is it true what ye said abou’ Enoch?”
The pain in Anna’s voice choked Rosalie. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to speak. “How long have ye been listenin’?”
“I heard it all.”
It was rare to see Anna angry. Her words spat out like darts. Rosalie stepped back as she tried to recount everything that slipped from her mouth. Anna continued, “Why didn’t ye tell me?” Anna shivered at the thought of Enoch attacking Rosalie while she was blindfolded mere feet away.
“I didn’t think ye’d believe me.”
“Ye didn’ give me a chance.”
Declan gestured to the fire, “We should—”
Anna closed the gap with such speed, Rosalie thought she might hit him. “An’ you! You ought to be ashamed o’ yerself.” Her eyes narrowed. “Lurin’ a young maid away, alone in the dark.”
She spat on the ground next to Declan’s feet. Shame colored Declan’s cheeks. Rosalie opened her mouth and reached out to touch him, but there were no words to make this better. Especially not under Anna’s gaze.
“Ye should leave. Ye’ve done enough damage to our lives.” Anna’s words were like venom.
Declan looked into Anna’s brown eyes and saw the flames lit within them. There was no making this better—not tonight, while passions ran high. Still, he couldn’t bear leaving them alone. Anna was right; it was dangerous in the Highlands at night.
He scanned the perimeter, and his gaze fell on a thick outcropping of trees. He could conceal himself there, just within calling range. The last thing he could live with was knowing he’d left just before something happened to them. Rosalie’s words about Enoch forcing her to change relit the fury within him.
Declan nodded to Anna before turning to Rosalie. “I’m sorry, lassie.”
He cupped her cheek with a tenderness that made Anna turn away—the intimacy of the gesture making her feel as if she’d witnessed something meant for privacy.
Rosalie’s heart tore. She didn’t want him to leave—not like this. Not again. She gripped the fingertips cupping her cheek and looked up at him with wet eyes, hoping he could read her heart. There was nothing she needed to tell him. He was sure he knew what that look meant. It felt too similar to the ache in his chest.
Declan leaned down. The warmth of his breath on Rosalie’s ear and neck sent ripples down her arms. She closed her eyes and listened to his whispered words.
“I’ll wait fer ye tomorrow, an’ every day until tha’ sparkle leaves yer eyes or I ken ye’ve gone from me forever.”
Rosalie’s breath caught. Without thought, her body leaned in toward him, taking in his musk, wood smoke, soil, and sweat as he pulled away from her. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and left, whistling for his horse to follow behind.
Anna’s glower followed him until he disappeared in the darkness. Rosalie approached her and tried to pull her in close. Anna’s hand smacked hard against Rosalie’s cheek. She cringed. The pain was nothing compared to Enoch’s blow or the sharp stab of longing and loss piercing her ribs. Rosalie blinked the shock away and saw the anger subside into regret within Anna’s eyes.
Anna’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Rosie.” She covered her face and sobbed. “I’m just furious with ye right now.”
Rosalie swallowed, her throat dry and sticky. “It’s all right. Sit with me. Yer freezing.”
She placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders and guided her toward the fire. Silence held them for a moment.
“I jus’ don’t understand why ye wouldn’t tell me.” Anna let out a mournful sigh, then said more softly, “I’m suppose’ tae be yer best friend.”
&
nbsp; Rosalie clamped her cold hands between her thighs and stared into the distance. “I didn’ think ye’d believe me.”
Anna sucked in through her teeth. They both knew she’d think Rosalie was making a gross exaggeration. Everyone close to her knew she didn’t want the wedding to go through.
“Can ye blame me?”
Rosalie thought back to some of the excuses she’d thrown at Magda in an attempt to avoid bringing up things that would bring Alexander shame—something she couldn’t prove. She didn’t say anything.
Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1) Page 7