When he’s finally stilled, he crumples down on top of me, dipping his face into the nook between my neck and my shoulder. He’s murmuring under his breath in a language I do not understand. I can feel his heartbeat thudding against my chest, beating as quickly and frantically as mine. His weight is almost too much for me to bear, but I cannot bear the thought of him being further away from me, either.

I run my hand over the back of his neck, holding him close.

After a moment, he slides his hand out of my hair, and props himself on his forearms. The feral look is gone from his expression. He looks relaxed. Soft. There’s a playful glint in his eyes. He kisses my nose, then my mouth.

He looks down at me and a slow smile spreads across his face.

I return it, an unfamiliar feeling of elation bubbling inside me.

He laughs, and I laugh too. I do not know what is so funny, but we laugh until my cheeks ache, and tears spring into Callum’s eyes. And all the while, he looks at me as though I am the most wonderful thing he has set eyes upon.

“I think we should do that again sometime,” I say, stroking his cheek.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Princess.” He brushes his lips against throat, then my jaw. “I fear we shall never make it to Highfell.”

***

Callum wakes me twice in the night.

He takes pleasure from me languidly, sleepily—his body warm and comforting as he draws moans from my lips and groans softly in my ear. When we fall asleep, we are a tangle of limbs. His warmth prevents the need for me to cover myself in the furs and rugs laid on the ground.

I wake first thing in the morning. The sunlight creates streaks of cold light on the tent’s surface. The trees whisper outside in the breeze.

My back is flush to Callum’s chest, and his arm is slung possessively over my waist. He snores gently in my ear.

I want to stay where I am, but I need to relieve myself, so I try to disentangle myself from him.

He growls once, his eyes still closed.

“Get off me, you brute,” I whisper, not bothering to suppress my smile as I remember the first time we were in this position—just after Callum had taken me from Sebastian’s castle.

He grunts, and I wriggle free.

Not wanting to dress yet, I pull on Callum’s big shirt, letting it hang down to my knees. I crawl out of the tent and relieve myself behind a bush nearby.

When I’m done, I wander onto the shore and look out at the rippling grey waters of the loch.

I shiver; the air is bitingly cold. The wind whips my hair, and the pebbles are cold and hard beneath my bare feet. The sky is grey, and rain might be coming.

Yet I smile.

The water laps the shore near my feet. All I can hear is my own breathing, and the gulls that swoop down to the water to catch fish.

I am happy.

I am safe.

I am free.

There’s a crunch of pebbles behind me. I do not turn around. I can sense him. Smell him. He hooks an arm around my waist, and nuzzles the back of my neck.

“It’s beautiful out here,” I say, my breath misting in front of my face.

“Aye. Just wait until we get to Highfell.” He nibbles my earlobe. “The mountains and lochs around here are small wee things in comparison.”

He slips a hand beneath my shirt and runs his hand along my stomach. I’m aware of his hard length, pressing against my lower back.

“You seem to be missing your clothes,” I say.

“Aye. Imagine my horror when I went to get dressed only to find my shirt was gone.”

I giggle. “So that is why you came outside completely naked. You were looking for your shirt?”

“Oh, aye. Luckily, I have found the thief.” He nips my ear with his teeth and a burst of heat surges through me.

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask.

“No.” He runs his hand down my stomach, then slides it between my legs. “Aren’t you?”

He strokes me, and I moan, pressing my head back against his shoulder. His warmth wraps around me, and his fingers stoke a fire in my center. “No,” I whimper.

He rubs slow excruciating circles on the most sensitive part of me, until I cry out with release, my knees buckling.

He throws me over his shoulder. His shirt rides up to my chest, exposing my most intimate parts to the elements.

I squeal. “Callum!”

He chuckles. “What? I’m giving the gulls something to look at.” He taps my bum lightly and I squeal again.

While I’m laughing, my legs flailing over his shoulder, he carries me back to the tent.

***

When Callum is done with me, his spirits are higher than I think I’ve ever seen them. He announces that his appetite is simply too large for bread and cheese this morning, and he will hunt us something proper for breakfast.

After getting dressed, I sit on a rock and wait for him on the shore where we ate last night. I warm my hands by the fire we built before he left. I cannot fight the smile on my face.

I feel so different from the woman I was before I came to the Northlands. I am dirty and unbathed. I am wearing breeches. I can smell Callum on my skin. I am sore, and I do not know how that can be a good feeling, but somehow, it is. I feel. . . full. Content. Excited for the future. Excited for Highfell.

You’re free, the wind seems to whisper. You’re free.

I hear the crunch of pebbles close by, and I turn—not expecting Callum back so soon.

My stomach drops and I jump to my feet.

Two men in kilts are walking along the shore, fifty meters or so away. One of them looks right at me, and I recognize him. It’s Duncan, the male I met when I arrived at the castle. My blood turns to ice. They’re James’s men.

“Over there!” He points at me. “They’re still here! She’s over there!”

I turn, and I run.

Heavy footsteps pound after me.

I tear across the shore, then scramble up the rocks by our tent. I run as fast as I can over the sloping land, to the forest ahead where Callum went hunting. The shouts of the men behind me get closer.

“Callum!” I yell.

I run as fast as I can, bumping my shoulders against tree trunks as the forest gets deeper, darker. Thorns snag my shirt, and pine needles crunch beneath my boots.

“Callum!”

I trip over a fallen branch and go flying into the dirt. I scrape my hands and knees on stones and twigs that litter the floor.

Get up, the trees whisper. Get up.

I scramble to my feet, but it’s too late. Five men enter the clearing.

No. This can’t be happening.

I step warily back, and I hit something solid.

A strong arm hooks around my waist, and the familiar scent of the forest at night washes over me. My blood turns to ice. I buck against the male who holds me, but he merely tightens his grip.

He pushes a cloth over my mouth, and I smell something chemical that makes my eyelids droop.

No. No. No.

He dips his mouth to my ear. His tone is as dark and smooth as the shadows that surround us. “You should have run faster, little rabbit.”

Then, black.

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Chapter Fifty-Three

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’m cold. There’s something hard beneath me. The air smells like mildew. Somewhere, something is dripping.

“You should bathe her before you present her to him. She smells strongly of the Highfell wolf.” A deep, unfamiliar male voice rumbles through my fuzzy mind and makes my muscles harden.

“He’s territorial. It works in our favor.” This voice is familiar. Bored. A dark, smooth caress on my senses.