Page 81 of Surrendering to her Highland Captor
When she didn’t move quickly enough, James hoisted her up, placing her in the seat before climbing up behind her.
“Let’s get out of here,” he told Aila and Lachlan, kicking his horse into a run.
Taryn held on, but she didn’t have to. James’ arms had already wrapped around her middle, holding her close and firm to him. They had spent nearly a week riding like this. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Even farther still were her days traveling the Highlands with Aila by her side. It felt entirely strange and foreign to have both Aila beside her and James behind her as they rode. It was a distinct reminder of everything Taryn’s mind was working so hard to forget.
Try as she might, she simply could not leave behind the fact that her clan was still in grave danger, as was Laura. And from the speech James had given, there were a few more clans to consider as they made their plans. No matter how much Taryn wanted to run away, disappear and start a new life somewhere that no one knew her, she couldn’t abandon her duties. Even more surprising, the longer Taryn thought about it, as she recalled the faces and voices that had cried out for her pardon, Taryn realized she didn’t want to run away.
Her time in the prison cell had reminded her just how much she loved her clan. Though she had seen very little of the McGregor lands and even less of the castle, her journey home had renewed her love for her people. The graceful white coated trees and sharp mountains of her homeland blurred by as they rode, reinforcing the fact that for the first time in so long, she had felt at home once again.
But seeing just how far her parents and uncle had allowed things to fall made it abundantly clear that she was the onlyone willing to do what was right, what was needed to save the McGregor Clan from ruin.
“Taryn.”
Her mind snapped back to the present moment. It took several slow blinks for her thoughts to catch up to where her body was. Still sitting on the horse with James cradling her, but they were no longer racing away from the home she was desperate to save.
“She has had quite the shock,” Aila answered, not even bothering to mask the concern in her eyes as she studied Taryn’s face.
“It may take her some time to come out of the fog,” Lachlan answered knowingly. “I ken it took me a while every time I felt I had narrowly escaped death.”
“Taryn,” James tried again, this time as a whispered breath of warmth against her ear.
She sighed and leaned into him, allowing his scent to completely envelop her once more.
“I thought I would never get to hold yer hand or hear my name on yer lips again,” she admitted softly.
Her eyes fluttered close. Slowly, she evened out her breath and relaxed every muscle in her body that had been clenched for the past several weeks.
“Give us a moment, aye?”
The question, directed at Aila and Lachlan, was a welcomed reprieve for Taryn.
“We will water the horses,” Lachlan answered.
James eased out of the saddle, leaving Taryn feeling bereft and cold. The clearing was surrounded by thick evergreen trees that were kind enough to block the winter wind from Taryn’s face. And with the sun shining bright in a cloudless sky, she knew there was little reason for her to feel as cold as she did, but still, she shivered.
“Come here, my love,” James beckoned, reaching up to her.
She went into his arms willingly, grateful to be encompassed in his warmth once again. Aila took the horse’s reins and led them all away, leaving James and Taryn alone. As alone as they could be in an otherwise empty clearing, at least.
“Och, Taryn,” James sighed.
The pads of his thumbs brushed across her cheeks, smearing a wetness on her skin she hadn’t noticed before.
“Why are ye crying?”
“I-I did nae realize I was,” she told him, blinking only to find her eyelashes heavy with tears.
Her newfound awareness of the tears sent a fresh wave tumbling down her face. James pulled her into a fierce hug, his arms wrapped around her, holding her in place. He squeezed her, as if that would be enough to fit together all of her broken pieces once more. She gladly buried her face in his tartan, the thick wool absorbing her sadness so completely that there was little trace left of it on her cheeks.
When James pulled away, several minutes later, he studied her face, searching and scanning for any signs of injury. Content to find none, he stepped back even more, pushing her to arm’s length. He studied her again, searching the rest of her body for injuries too. Only once he was satisfied with her torn and muddied dress, tangled and matted hair, and dirt and tear streaked face, did he pull her back into him.
“Tell me how I can stop these tears,” he softly whispered.
Taryn shook her head, unsure of why she was crying in the first place, let alone how to soothe her raw emotions.
Clutching the sides of her face, James continued to brush away her tears with his thumbs, cleaning the evidence of her time in the cell from her skin while he did so.
“I thought ye would be pleased to see me,” he joked, the corners of his lips creating a ghost of a smile. “But it seems that the sight of me only reduces ye to tears.”
