Written in 67 minutes. Sorry I went a bit over and got interrupted in the middle, too. But I’m pretty happy with this. No time for typos or spellcheck.

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open the next morning when the sunlight slid through the opening in her tent. As her mind became alert, she also realized that everything hurt. She squeezed her eyes closed again, then slowly, pushed herself to a seated position, inhaling sharply as the muscles in her lower back and shoulders protested. Then she twisted, sliding her legs from the cot she slept in to the ground.

She sucked in another breath, almost on a sob as she realized she couldn’t quite bring herself to stand up. Every single piece of her body was frozen. She didn’t know what would happen if she told Jason she wasn’t sure she could stand much less travel on the horse again, and she expected to ride all the way to Braegarie? Would his patience with her disappear? Would he leave her here?

No. She rubbed her wrist. No. She couldn’t read her new husband very well unless she was touching him, and even then it was difficult to get a sense of him. But she’d felt genuine worry and concern. Some suspicion, some worry that she was keeping secrets, but she’d known that already.

“Elizabeth?”

His voice from outside the tent jarred her and she looked towards the entrance. “I—I’m awake,” she managed. “I’ll be out in a moment—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, then forced herself to stand, the muscles in her thighs protesting from the pressure, but she stood, wobbling slightly.

Now to take a step.

She stared blankly at the matted grass and dirt beneath her feet, her brain sending signals to move, but her body simply refused.

“Elizabeth?” Jason said again. “Are you all right?”

“I—” She bit her lip. “No,” Elizabeth confessed in a small voice. “I’m not. I’m—” She stopped as the flap to the tent swept aside and Jason strode in, ducking his head slightly. She smiled at him tightly. “I stood up. And that was all I could do.”

Jason nodded, his mouth tightening. “I’m sorry. We should have set an easier pace yesterday. We—we always camp here when we return from the town,” he said. “How did you travel from Annan?”

“Oh. My father hired a cart for my sister and I.” Elizabeth stared at her hands. “We were never instructed in riding, and—” A tear slid down her cheek. How useless she was. How little she knew about what would be expected of her. A Highland wife who couldn’t ride? Or care for herself?

She glanced at Jason, who was squinting at her, his brows furrowed in thought, as if trying to process how to go forward from here. Would he just take her back to the regent, tell him she was defective? It wasn’t too late to set aside the vows — she knew it was done often, particularly in the Highlands.

Expecting Jason to declare this a disaster, she was surprised instead when he came forward and lifted her, sliding one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. She gasped slightly, wrapping her own arms around his neck to brace herself.

“You’ll ride with me today,” Jason told her. “And we will stop in Stirling for the night. You’ll be able to rest there.”

“I—” She blinked at the sun as he walked out of the tent and set her down on the little stool by the remains of the fire. He jerked his chin at Johnny who scowled and started to pack up. “I could have—”

“Don’t worry about him,” Jason said. He pushed something into her hands, an oatcake. “Eat. You need your strength.”

She chewed her bottom lip, contemplating the grubby little oat cake, but when she raised her eyes to say something, her husband had already walked away, joining Johnny and Francis in packing up the campsite.

—

He’d meant what he’d told Elizabeth that morning by the loch—he should have stopped earlier that night. There had been other villages between Edinburgh and Linlithglow where he could have taken rooms, eased her into the brutal pace that they’d need in the hills later in the trip.

Instead, he’d let his irritation at Johnny and Francis’s suspicions, her refusal to trust him with the truth, and his own worry about what trouble he was bringing home to his clan — he’d let all of that cloud his vision, and he’d treated his new wife worse than he had the day of their wedding—which he hadn’t thought would be possible.

After they’d packed the tent, Jason took Elizabeth to the loch so that she could wash, and then carried to her horse where he set her in front of him—having her pressed against him all day would be his punishment, he decided.

But the universe had devised an even harsher penalty for his actions. When they reached Stirling, Jason was chagrined to learn that there was a festival in town which meant many had flocked in from the surrounding countryside and many of the inns were full.

“We’ll camp outside of town,” Johnny said when Francis had trudged out of the last place with a shake of his head. Johnny glanced at Elizabeth, pale and worn, leaning back against Jason, her eyes closed.

“They have one room,” Francis said before Jason could consider Johnny’s suggestion. He nodded at Elizabeth. “The lass needs to sleep, and another night on the cot won’t do her any good. I told them you’ll take the room, Jason. Johnny and I will make do and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Jason hesitated. They should keep trying. There were at least two or three more inns, one of which had to have at least two rooms. He’d never leave Elizabeth alone in one of these places, but—

“We can’t leave them alone,” Johnny bit out. He swept his eyes over Elizabeth again, but she was awake now, blinking at them blearily. Jason hoped Elizabeth thought Johnny was worried for their safety, but he knew what the other man was thinking. He didn’t trust Jason around her without Johnny to remind him that she hadn’t earned their trust yet.

His jaw clenched. He wasn’t going to make Elizabeth suffer another night because she hadn’t earned Johnny’s respect. It wasn’t him that she needed to satisfy. He looked at Francis. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Francis—” Johnny began but the blond sent his friend a sharp look. “Fine,” he muttered.

“We’ll take your horses to the livery,” Francis told Jason as he held the stallion’s reins. Jason dismounted and reached for Elizabeth. He’d stopped several times that day so that she could walk off the worst of her cramps and rest her muscles so she was able to stand on her own while he grabbed what they’d need for the night.

He put a hand at her elbow and guided her towards the low doorway of the inn. A few minutes later, the innkeeper had taken them to their room and Jason had arranged for supper and a hot bath to be brough up. Elizabeth had sighed, a soft sound that sounded almost happy.

“Thank you,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “It wasn’t necessary, but—”

“You’ll feel better when you’ve soaked,” he muttered, looking away from her, not wanting to think about her bathing. He did not need that image in his mind before they shared a room together for the entire night.

They ate first—a hot stew that tasted much better than the oat cakest they’d had for breakfast and around noon. Elizabeth’s color had already returned by the time the bath was brought in, two serving women bringing steaming pitchers with which to fill it.

“I’ll—” Jason got to his feet hastily. “I’ll go downstairs,” he muttered, then fled like a coward as Elizabeth stared at him then turned her flushed cheeks to the serving women, feeling a bit embarassed how quickly he’d left the room to avoid being near her while she bathed.

She tried very hard not to linger in the bath, but it had been several day since she’d been able to wash properly, and Jason had been right—the hot water really did make her feel so much better. She wasn’t sure how she’d make it all the way to his home since she knew it wasn’t possible to take rooms every night.

But he’d done this for her this once, and Elizabeth decided to see that as a good sign.

By the time Jason returned, she had finished her bath and was drying her hair by the fire. He stepped aside so that the maids could take the tub to another guest, then closed the door, clearing his throat. “Your father.”

Elizabeth stared at the flames, her comb clutched in her fingers. “Yes?”

“Even for a Lowlander,” Jason said slowly, “it seems strange that neither of his daughters were not taught to ride.” He sat at the table where they’d eaten their supper, watching her. “I assume your brother was?”

“Of course.” Elizabeth sighed and rose to her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers across the teeth of her comb. “My father does not think women should do many things,” she said after a long moment. “And riding was one of them. My mother—” She closed her eyes. “Her horse threw her.”

Jason frowned. “That could have happened to anyone—”

“Her mare was spooked by something,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “And my mother couldn’t stop her—couldn’t jump to safety. Her skirt was tangled in the sidesaddle. My father…is not always rational.” She paused. “He never expected me to marry,” she admitted which was not quite the truth. He’d never wanted her to find a husband. Had never wanted her to leave Annan and risk their secret—her secret—to be known. “I fear that there are many things you would expect your wife to be capable of doing that I cannot.”

She looked up to find him staring her with a calm expression as if she hadn’t admitted what a failure she was—or would be. “I should have said something sooner—”

“Why?” Jason asked. He sat next to her on the bed, keeping at least a foot between them. “What reason could he have?”

“I—” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, looked down at her hands. She couldn’t tell him the truth, but— “My father has never cared for me,” she said instead. “From my earliest memories. He’s always favored Sarah, but—he never intended her to marry either. Steven—he’s different,” she said softly. “He’s the heir. But neither Sarah nor I—after our mother died—received any instruction that would make us particularly fit for being a wife.” She looked at him. “He changed his mind about Sarah when we were invited to the court. He thought she might make a brilliant match.”

“But not you.”

“Not me,” Elizabeth confirmed. She thought that he would press on the matter, and she worried how she would deflect the questions—she didn’t want to lie to him, but she couldn’t imagine telling him the truth. That her father had feared that women carried the curse of her vision, and that Sarah might shame him and have a daughter just like Elizabeth. That his family would be dishonored and disgraced.

“What did your brother mean about your mother?” Jason asked, surprising her by the change in conversation. “That you should remember what she taught you?”

“I—” Her eyes widened and she looked straight ahead, at the dingy walls of the room. Could she tell him? Could she open up about this? Would he trust her if she showed a little of herself? She looked at him, met his eyes. “She taught me to be quiet,” Elizabeth admitted in a soft voice. “Not to speak. To be invisible.”

“To be—” Jason frowned, shook his head. “Why? Why would she teach such a lesson to a child—” The scowl deepened. “Why would your brother remind you of it.”

“Oh. Well—” Elizabeth’s stomach pitched strangely and she dipped her gaze down at his hands. They were so large. Larger than her fathers. He wore no ring that would cut her, but she suspected if Jason hit her with a closed fist, she might not wake up again. “Quiet children are safe,” she said finally. She touched the side of her cheek, absently where the cut her father had given her had only begun to scab over, the bruise fading into sickening streaks of yellow and green.

“Elizabeth—”

“Steven’s just worried,” Elizabeth said in a rush. “He—he doesn’t know you, and he can’t protect me. He tries, but sometimes my father—” She shrugged a shoulder. “He knows we might not see each other again, and he worries for me.”

“You don’t need to be quiet or invisible,” Jason told her. She glanced up to find him closer to her, his eyes intent on hers. “You will be safe with me.”

“Will I?” she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “You don’t trust me. I know your men don’t trust me.”

“Whatever those secrets are,” Jason responded, his voice hushed but fervent—his hand reached out to cup her cheek. A shiver slid through her body as the sense of comfort, of security—of being safe sank into her body. He wasn’t lying to her. “Whatever they are,” he repeated, “I promise you that I will never hurt you.”

His thumb brushed away a tear as it escaped her lashes. Then he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers. Startled, Elizabeth parted her mouth, and he deepend the caress. She closed her eyes and sank into him—he was open to her for the first time—the guards she’d been fighting for days disappeared—and she reached her hand up to touch his jaw, then slid into his hair, the dark blonde strands falling just below his chin.

And just as she believed she was truly safe, that this time it would be different—she had a flash. A flash of Johnny and Francis standing in front of him, with the horses. At the inn in Edinburgh.

And I can’t think of a better spy than a slip of a woman that screams victim.

Elizabeth couldn’t sense who had said the harsh words, but she could feel the venom, the hatred, the distrust down to her bones—she jerked away from him, jumping off the bed.

“Elizabeth—”

Shaking slightly, confused and bewildered—how could he be so true in one moment and feel so right—when she knew—she knew he didn’t trust her. And if he hadn’t said it, one of his own men thought she was a spy.

“You think if you are kind to me and promise me things,” she said, her voice shaking, “that I will break my word? Do you think that I am so weak? So soft? I made a vow—”

“You made vows to me,” Jason said tightly. “Are they not more important?” He rose to his feet, his face tightening with irritation. “Elizabeth—”

“I’d like to go to bed,” she said, trembling. “I—I am very tired. And I would like try riding again tomorrow.”

Jason pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He jerked a pallet out of one of the bags he’d brought up and laid it on the floor. He laid down, his back to her.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around herself, and reminded herself that her mother had been right. Quiet. Invisible. It was the only way to protect herself.

+5

Written in 55 minutes. Did a basic spell check but did not reread for typos.

Jason had hoped to make it to Linlithgow before the sun had started to dip in the horizon so that they could set up camp before complete darkness descended. He hadn’t planned to make any changes in their usual route home from Edinburgh — he and his men knew the terrain between the capital and Braegarie like the back of their hand and were able of making the trip in a week.

With the addition of delicate woman from the Lowlands who could barely seat a horse, Jason had steeled himself for the week’s trip to take more than double that. Elizabeth would never manage to seat a horse from sun rise to sun set, even if he set her before him and did the work.

By the time they reached loch, the waters were nearly black and the moon was high in the sky. Jason glanced over at his new wife, and even in the moonlight, he could see the way her shoulders were trembling with fatigue. The terrain had been relatively flat so far — if she was flagging after the easiest leg of the trip—

He swung down from his horse and caught Elizabeth’s mare by the bridle. The brunette blinked blearily at him. “We’re stopping?” she asked, her voice low and rusty from disuse.

“Aye,” he confirmed, furrowing his brow as she winced, rubbing her hands. “Can you dismount?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, then made a face as she attempted to move her leg from the pommel of her side saddle. With a bite of her lip, she sighed. “I might need a little help,” she admitted finally.

“Set up camp,” he told Johnny and Francis, who had tied their horses to a near branch and were coming over to take the other horses. “I’ll take care of the horses. I want the tent up first.”

“Tent?” Elizabeth repeated.

“Aye,” Johnny said caustically, as he yanked the material in question from the pack horse. “Only the best for milady—”

“Johnny,” Jason said quietly. He met the other man’s stare head on, but Johnny’s eyes were shadowed in the darkness. “No.”

Francis quietly came up behind Johnny and removed the other supplies they needed to make camp. “I’ll get a fire going,” he said.

When Jason was satisfied that both of his men were occupied, he returned his attention to Elizabeth. He started her when he swung up behind her, mounting the horse. “What—” she began.

“It’ll be easier,” he said, reaching around her to gently wrap a hand around her calf and lift it over the pommel. Elizabeth hissed as her leg moved for the first time in hours. Her body was trembling against his, and Jason felt a now familiar shame spreading through his body. She’d told him she had little experience riding, and he’d pushed her too far, too fast on the first day.

He’d be lucky if she could even walk in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight with pain. “I didn’t—I said I would tell you if I was tired, but I didn’t—until we stopped and I tried—”

“Your muscles locked in this position,” he said, keeping his arms around her, steadying her. He was afraid that in her exhaustion, she might tumble right from the back of the mare. “And your mind adjusted. ‘Tis my fault for not stopping for lunch and letting you walk around.”

“I don’t want to delay your return home,” Elizabeth said fretfully. “I can do this—”

“We’ll see.” He took her hands in his and set them on the pommel. “I’m going to get down now. Hold on, and I’ll have you on the ground before you know it.”

Elizabeth did as he asked, and when Jason reached up to pull her down to the soft earth, she nearly stumbled and fell against him, her legs protesting the movement. “It—” She squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her forehead against his chest. He felt tears soak into his shirt. “It hurts,” she admitted.

“You need to walk,” he advised. He put an arm around her shoulders. “Or it will only feel worse.” Her arm snaked around his waist as they inched closer to the clearing where Francis had lift the fire and Johnny was cursing with the unfamiliar tent.

It was a small pavilion tent, patterned after what aristocrats brought to fairs and on their own sojourns. None of them had ever traveled more than a night with a woman, much less a laird’s wife, and Jason knew that Johnny was going to sulk for the entire journey.

“Is that for me?” Elizabeth said, staring at the white linen as Francis shook his head and joined the other man. He shoved Johnny aside, then patiently assembled the wooden frame work before attempting to stretch the linen over it.

“I thought it would be comfortable than a pallet on the ground,” Jason said. He frowned at her. “Did you not have one on the journey to Edinburgh?”

“Oh.” She dipped her head. “I suppose I did, I just—” She looked at him, her eyes little more than shadows in the flames. “I didn’t think of it as mine. I shared it with Sarah but—” She shook her head. “It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” This she directed at the men. “For going out of your way. Please don’t think I need special treatment.”

“Says the lass who can barely move,” Johnny grunted, but some of his hostility had faded. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “You’re—” He wiggled his hands. “Small. Soft. You’d never sleep on the ground.”

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” Jason muttered. “This is as nice as he gets.” He jerked his head. “Let’s walk more to get your body loosened.” And if he let himself enjoy the way she felt, snuggled next to him, fitting perfectly into the crook of his shoulder — well that was his own personal secret.

—

Francis managed dinner while Johnny took care of the horses. By the time Jason was satisfied that she’d walked off the worse of her cramps, Elizabeth was convinced she’d crumble from exhaustion. She really hadn’t meant to make things more difficult for her new husband and his men—had been trying so hard to convince them she could hold her own —

But Jason was right — not moving for so long had tricked her brain into thinking she was fine. When he set her down on the small wooden stool that had also magically appeared from the pack horse, Elizabeth only felt marginally better than she had when he’d pulled her off the horse.

He’d been surprisingly kind in assisting her—she might even go so far as describing his demeanor as sweet if she had any way to determine what that might actually look like. She nearly preferred the open hostility of the suspicious dark-haired warrior—she was more familiar with aggressive behavior.

No one had ever put her needs and comfort first, and Elizabeth wasn’t really sure what to say or how to handle it. Could it be possible that she would really be able to start a new life in her new home? Could her new husband come to value and trust her?

She glanced at him as he sat on the ground, reaching for the jug of whiskey that had been hanging on the horse. He took a long pull, then glanced at her. “You should eat before you sleep.”

“Oh—” Elizabeth was about to protest that she wasn’t very hungry. The meat and cheese Francis had tossed at her on horseback at mid day had been twice as much as she was used to, and she’d saved a portion of it to eat later. But Johnny didn’t wait for her answer, just shoved a bowl of some sort of mashed something at her with a badly carved spoon.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She gingerly pushed the spoon around the mash, then touched it to her lips, trying very hard not to recoil. It was dreadful and tasted not much better than dirt. But it was food, and she wanted them to trust her. To like her, if such a thing was even possible.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her, sitting across the fire from her. “Not fancy enough for you?”

“It’s fine,” Elizabeth said hastily. She spooned up another bite and forced herself to eat it. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Johnny grunted, and looked away from Jason’s glare. Francis quietly ate his own meal. Elizabeth finished her food, but before she say anything, Johnny yanked the bowl from her hand. “You should go to sleep,” he told her.

Elizabeth rose to her feet, and Jason swiftly stood as well, throwing Johnny another scowl. “I’m fine,” she told Jason. “I’m quite tired, and I want to be ready to leave in the morning when it’s time. Thank you for…for taking care of me,” she told all three of them. I will see you in the morning.”

Jason took her arm, and helped her over the uneven terrain, pulling back the flap of the tent. “If you need anything—”

“Good night,” Elizabeth said to him. She managed a smile. “I promise. I’ll do better tomorrow.” She ducked inside the tent, and Jason let the flap close.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned back to his men. “The horses. Now,” he snapped in a low voice, wanting to be out of earshot of his new wife.

“I know that you don’t trust her,” Jason began, but Johnny shook his head.

“You are letting that woman trick you with her sweet smiles and fluttering eyes,” he snapped, keeping his voice low. “She’s not nearly as helpless as she pretends to be—”

“Didn’t see her acting helpless much,” Francis said idly, and Johnny turned to look at him, dumbfounded. “Put her on a strange horse. Clear she’s barely able to sit one, and then we dragged her along for nearly ten hours at a brisk pace. No stopping for breaks or meals.” He shrugged. “She can fake not expecting fancy food or sleeping arrangements, but not the riding.”

Johnny scowled. “Don’t tell me—”

“I don’t trust her either,” Francis said, patiently. “She won’t tell you why the regent wanted you to marry her, and she knows what service she was supposed to have done,” he added to Jason. “And her brother came to see her off. Made sure to see her off. She’s keeping secrets.”

“I know that,” Jason bit out. “But she’s still—” He glanced at the tent, isolated and lonely in the middle of the clearing. A pavilion tent alone was a strange sight. He was used to seeing them in larger numbers. “We still exchanged vows in the church,” he muttered. “She’s still my wife.”

Johnny’s scowl deepened. “And you’re my laird, which means I’d lay my life down for her if you ask it. But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it—”

“She could also just be an unwilling part of this,” Jason retorted. “And making her mistrust any of this doesn’t do anything to get her to tell me what she knows. Francis is right—she could have been pretending everything else, but she didn’t complain even once today. She pushed herself because she wanted to prove herself to me. And she’s done that. I don’t think she holds any secrets that put my life in danger. For now, that’s enough for me.”

“You’re a fool,” Johnny told him caustically. “Taken in by pretty eyes and soft skin—”

Francis stepped between the two of them as Jason nearly growled. “Jason is right,” he told the other man. “Like it or not, she’s married to our laird. She’s his lady. She deserves the same respect you manage to give his aunt. You don’t like her either—”

“Aye, well, Tracy would flay me if—” Johnny muttered, then looked away. “All right. I’ll try harder,” he admitted.

“We’re changing the route home,” Jason said, deciding that he might as well get it over with. “We can make Stirling tomorrow, and Perth the day after—”

“That’s nearly a third of what we’d do in one day! And we never stay in towns—”

“We’re setting a slower pace now and let Elizabeth get used to sitting a horse. Once we leave Perth, there’s barely any civilization,” Jason reminded him. “I won’t have her falling ill and—” He broke off. “There’s no hurry to get home. It’s not worth it to me to work her to the bone.” And he was worried that a lifetime of living with a man like Baron Webber would cause Elizabeth to hold back any complaints about illness or her true condition. “You’re welcome to ride ahead. I can bring Elizabeth home on my own.”

Johnny hissed and dragged a hand through his hair. “No,” he said in a low voice. “You’re right. The girl could barely walk when you pulled her off the mare. She didn’t fake that. And one night on the pallet in a tent won’t fix it. Better to lose the time in a town than in the hills where we can’t easily resupply.”

He fixed his eyes on Jason’s. “Don’t forget that all of this could be a plot against you. It’s taken you less than two days to let down your guard—”

“And it could also be nothing more than we were told,” Jason said, slicing his hand in the air between. “Which means that she is an innocent young woman being dragged into the Highlands with no riding experience and three men she barely knows. She’s trusting us not to kill her in her sleep and pretend none of this ever happened. The very least I can do is make the journey as comfortable as I can.”

Johnny threw up his hands and stalked away. Jason looked at Francis. “You agree with him.”

“I think there are secrets that you don’t know,” Francis said, after a measured silence. “But I also think she might not know them either. And there’s no point in terrorizing the lass if she’s just a pawn. She’s not any trouble to me, Jason, and remember that Johnny hates everyone. He’ll respect her because you ordered it, but he won’t do more than that.”

Jason just shook his head and walked away from Francis, irritated with both of his men. He trusted them more than his own family, and they were both suspicious of his new wife, even if Francis was being quieter about it. Jason couldn’t quite bring himself to share those worries. Not after spending time with her, seeing her family —

But was Johnny right? Was he being played for a fool?

+6