Page 37 of Ruining a Highland Healer
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The wind was sharp on her cheeks, like hundreds of piercing needles. The tall, green grass swayed under a steel sky, clouds gathering over her head as she strolled down the path.
Next to Valora, Arrow was an ever-loyal presence, following in her footsteps. His fur rustled against the grass and his soft barks at anything he found interesting—a stick, a bug, a fallen feather on the ground—echoed in the emptiness around them, joining the howl of the wind. Below, the sea waged war against the rocks, waves crashing over and over on the side of the cliff, the faint line where the ocean met the sky, the great, endless blue, the sprawling green. Her lands were beautiful, full of meadows and running rivers and glittering lakes, but never before had Valora seen such great beauty.
So absorbed was she in the vista in front of her that she almost didn’t hear the footsteps that approached her. She turned around to see Torrin there, slowly approaching her down the path.
He was freshly bathed and dressed after his sparring session, his dark hair still damp. The afternoon light, cold and gray and diffused by the clouds, cast a tender light over his features, softening them into something almost boyish, something that hid the years of battles and strife.
It was an odd look on him, but not one Valora disliked. She sometimes wondered what Torrin had been like as a younger man, when he had first stepped into adulthood—had he been as serious as he was now?
Did he use tae have a softer demeanor, a different approach when he was young?
She feared she would never know.
"What are ye daein’ out here all alone?" Torrin asked, brow furrowed. "It’s dangerous fer ye tae be alone."
"I wished tae see the view," Valora said. "An’ I’m still very close tae the castle. I dinnae see why it would be dangerous."
Torrin only gave her a cryptic look as a response. Though he said nothing on the matter, Valora could tell there was something bothering him—something that she doubted he would share with her even if she asked, and so she didn’t bother.
After a few moments of silence, during which an almost suffocating tension began to grow between them, weighing downthe air around Valora, Torrin asked, "Would ye like tae see an even better view?"
For a moment, Valora was taken aback. It took her a few seconds to respond, nodding softly, as she was far too stunned by the unexpected offer to speak. Reaching for her hand, Torrin laced their fingers together and pulled Valora up a fork in the path, towards a small hill that stretched towards the south. There, the tall grass gave way to trees and a line of them stood tall near the path, surrounding it.
Once they reached that line, Torrin led Valora towards one of the taller trees, its branches reaching so far into the sky that they seemed to touch it. For a moment, she hesitated, giving him a dubious look.
What is it that he wants from me? Surely, it cannae be what I am thinking…
"Are ye ready?" he asked.
"Fer what?"
"Tae climb."
It was precisely what she was thinking. Though she had never been one to fear dirtying her hands or doing reckless things, climbing a tree seemed particularly reckless and daunting to her now, the mere thought of it giving her vertigo. The leaves swayed in the wind, and so did the upper branches, thin as they were,making the tree resemble a toppling tower that she would rather avoid at all costs.
"It’s alright," Torrin promised her, perhaps sensing her hesitation. It wasn’t difficult—she was pallid, a bead of sweat running down her temple. "I’ll be right here with ye. An’ trust me, ye will enjoy the view very much."
Valora was still hesitant to say the least. She looked at Torrin’s hand wrapped around hers dubiously once more, brows knitting together with concern, but when she glanced up at his face, she found nothing but a calm certainty that gave her the courage she needed.
He would catch her. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t let her go, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.
Nodding once more, Valora looked up at the green canopy, squinting against the dappled light. It was darker there, the shadows on Torrin’s face once again making him look severe, but there still seemed to be a softness to him that was inherent, as though being outside the castle had brought a different self out of him.
It cost a lot to be a laird. Torrin was scarred by the battles he had fought—not only his body, but also his mind. Responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders, but there was something else about him that Valora couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Something was surely wrong; she just didn’t know what that was.
Shaking those thoughts out of her head, Valora watched Torrin instead as he grabbed onto the lowest branch—a thick, calloused piece of wood that had to have been growing for decades, if not centuries. With ease, he hauled himself up onto the branch, holding onto the one above it with one hand as he offered the other to her.
"Come," he said. "Dinnae fash, I’ve got ye."
And Valora believed him.
Reaching for his hand, she gripped it tightly, and let Torrin haul her up to the branch, which was no easy feat. Her dress was long and layered, the skirts threatening to catch on every small twig along the main branch. The fabric tangled around her legs, twisting and folding between her calves as she tried to reach him, but his sheer strength was enough to pull her up and place her firmly onto the branch, which didn’t so much as creak under their combined weight.
For a moment, they both paused and stared into each other’s eyes. Valora could hardly look away from him, from those gray eyes that were like a mirror to the sky above. They were so close to each other that Valora could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the heat of his gaze on her skin like a physical touch.
