06

Inhaling deeply of the cold, autumn air, she tried to subdue her fears. It wouldn’t be long before Elsa married. She would bear children and live a life of intended happiness. And Esme, being the most willful and strongest of the three, could aid her parents in a way she never could.

No. It had to be her. At least in this sense, she could prove them wrong and be of value to her family. She would no longer be a burden to them.

The villagers fell silent against Rossetti’s deadly warning. No one dared to dispute him, not even Abram who had settled into an enraged silence.

Don mounted his horse, gnashing his teeth against the sudden rage running rampant in his veins as he scowled from beneath his hood at the crowd of onlookers. The bastards. He would not encourage their beliefs of him any further but instead, turned his steed about to better survey his acquired prize. With her small hand nestled trustingly in the crook of her mother’s arm, she trudged forward with an aura of fortitude that the entire village lacked. She did not weep like her fair-haired sisters trailing her heels, or betray a hint of fear, though he surmised it was just beneath the surface. Nay, she accepted her fate wholeheartedly in place of her family.

« My lord, » Duncan stepped forward, noticing the mare alongside him. « She cannot ride alone. »

« I will guide her horse. Make haste. » Don averted his gaze to glare from beneath his hooded brim to the remaining crowd of spectators as their scrutinizing stares reached to his face.

His gaze swung back around as Duncan led his daughter toward the mare. He watched as she reached with trembling hands to the animal, but sensing her unease, the mare shifted nervously away with a neigh of protest.

Muttering a curse, Don swung his leg over and leapt to the ground.

He noticed the stiffening of her shoulders at his abrupt approach, giving him a moment’s pause before nudging Duncan aside. He swept her effortlessly into his arms and deposited her in the saddle. It was a brief contact, but one that left a lasting, shocking desire to hold her once again in his arms.

He grabbed her small hand and fastened it firmly around the pommel, commanding brusquely, « Hold tight. »

Don mounted his horse once more and seized their reins all in one motion, and with a swift nudge to his steed’s flank, proceeded onward. The villagers scrambled from his path, their churlish manners burdening his ears as their eyes sought to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond his brim. He ground his teeth and suppressed a snarl. Their condemning stares bespoke their adverse thoughts, some eyeing the girl as though she were a sacrificial lamb and he, the devil incarnate.

The thought enraged him and he would have gladly swept down from his horse to demonstrate just how beastly he could be, but something stayed him in his pending violence.

He peered back at the girl. Her slender shoulders bowed beneath her coarse cloak, her staid demeanor splintering away at her strength, imparting to him a glimpse of that anguish and pain he had perceived earlier when affronted with the villagers’ callous remarks.

Contemptible swine, all of them !

Her mouth quivered with only the faintest indication of arrested tears. Her dark hair, which was restrained to a plait, caught the wind, pulling unruly strands to frame her solemn face.

And yet, she still did not cry.

The silence was almost deafening, the only sounds were the occasional squawk of a backwoods bird and the incessant stirring of the woodlands.

Elle gripped the pommel of the saddle and trembled within her cloak, realizing with a disheartening sigh that she was leaving everything she knew and loved behind her. But rather than succumb to feelings of sorrow and dismay, she squared her shoulders and thrust her chin into the brisk air that smelled strongly of leaves shedding their boughs.

She could do this – would do this. She had no other choice.

Though she could not see the forest, she knew it was as forlorn as many had proclaimed. She didn’t know which she feared most – her dark, brooding captor, or the encompassing trees cast in darkness.

She could feel Rossetti’s grip, strong and firm, steering her mare. Her brows furrowed. Why had he chosen her ? Her blindness was obvious, and so she couldn’t fathom as to how she could possibly be of any use to him – except one. And that set her heart a racing.

« Your father favors you. » The dark lilt of his voice startled her from her immersed thoughts, jolting her heart into another uneven cadence.

« My father loves my sisters and I just the same, your lordship. » Surprisingly, her voice did not betray her fear.

He chuckled deeply. « Nevertheless, he was quite against brandishing you. Why is that, I imagine, if not for favoritism ? »

« For what reasons, my lord, other than my blindness ? » she stated.

« Yet, the villagers seemed quite eager in sacrificing you. I wonder, what do they say of you, nymph ? »

« Do you, sir, know what they say of you ? » she snapped haughtily then gasped, stiffening at her impulsive retort.

She tensed as their horses came to a sudden halt, his steed falling in beside her, his presence looming close. A breath snagged in her throat at the proximity of his nearness and the sudden heat radiating from his body.

« I’m quite informed on what others have to say of me. » She was surprised to detect an underlying hint of humor hidden within his gruff baritone. « I asked if you knew what was said of you, » he repeated.

He shifted beside her and her skin prickled in awareness to his closeness, her heart turning over with a strange and mad fluttering. « I’m blind, sir, not deaf. So I can assure you that what is said of me falls on heightened ears. »

« You are unconcerned with what others say ? » he asked with a fraction of wonder.

« They will have their partial opinions of me, my lord, whether I choose to heed them or not. »

A sudden gust of wind startled her horse, forcing the mare to jolt unexpectedly. Elle gasped as the momentum of it nearly unsaddled her, but she was quickly righted by a firm, steadying hand.

After taking a moment to catch her breath, his voice came again, « In light of the situation, given your position in all this, you will cease in addressing me so formally, » Rossetti snarled, that callused hand fastened about her arm, hinted at the strength that could easily be wielded by those lean fingers.

Elle’s throat constricted nervously as her heartbeat raged on her ears. Do you intend to ruin me ? She had wanted to ask but those words never made it past the knot in her throat. They faltered along with her courage and instead, opted to say on a whisper, « And pray tell, my lord, what position am I to serve ? »

He fell silent and Elle could feel the gravity of his stare as she held a breath, fearing he would never answer, until finally, « That remains undecided. » He released her suddenly as if her skin burned to the touch. « You will call me Don. I care not for formalities, as you will learn. »

She gave a solemn nod and said naught more on the matter. It was a strange request, one that a man of nobility rank would not dispense of his serf, but she was in no position to dispute his decree. And so they resumed their journey in strained silence.

Rossetti Keep loomed in the foreground, a massive structure of turreted stone, its haunting facet sketched in a fickle gleam of moonlight.

Don felt a grin broaden his lips. He was eager to be home, far from penetrating glares and surly gossip.

With that, he glanced at his quiet captive.

Most women would have wept with hysteria, swooning at the mere thought of such a dreaded fate, but not his dark-haired nymph. She hadn’t uttered a single word of protest or complaint but rather exhibited an understanding and an air of acceptance.

He nearly chuckled aloud at what villagers labeled frail. Aye, her bearing suggested frailness, but her courage proved otherwise. She had more valor than most, especially the cowards inhabiting his terrain who would cast her in a breakable light when she abided the darkness that countless many would not.