Warrior’s Redemption (11 page)

Was he blind? Or was there some mental defect there she’d just totally missed?

“Are we even talking about the same woman? Elesyria’s young. And beautiful. There’s not a gray hair anywhere on her.”

Malcolm nodded thoughtfully, his fingers absently stroking his chin. “That’s what you see when you look at her, is it? All the more proof that is of her Faerie blood, as if I still needed proof. Which I do not. It would appear she wears a spell for our benefit. But is it a spell that canna fool you, or one that canna fool us? Interesting, that is. I wonder why it’s so?”

A spell? “So . . . you mean to tell me that you actually see her as old?” And if he did, why didn’t she?

He shrugged and pushed up to stand. “It’s the way of the Elves.” Catching himself, he held up a hand to forestall her correction. “Yer pardon, my lady. Faeries. All the legends speak of it. The Magical Folk can appear to mortals in any way they choose.”

Which still didn’t answer why she didn’t see Elesyria the same way he did. That question, along with any others she might have, was left on hold when he stepped outside, dropping the skin down to cover the opening behind him. Moments later, when he returned leading their horses through the opening, any questions Dani might have thought up completely fled her mind.

“What are you doing?”

She’d earlier considered the interior of the hut close quarters for perhaps five or six men. The thought of how many horses might fit inside would never have been on her list of size comparisons.

Middle Ages,
she reminded herself, scooting to the far side of the fireplace.

“These lads have fed and watered—directly from the stream,” he turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “And without the need for boiling. They’d fare little better overnight in the cold snow than yerself, my lady. And, to our advantage, having them inside with us will only add to the heat of the room.”

Could be. She was pretty sure their being inside was going to add to the fragrance of the room, too. And not in a pleasant way.

“Okay, then. In that case, I guess I won’t have to
share my freshly boiled, pretty much germ-free water with them. Wait.” His whole comment penetrated at last. “Overnight? We’re staying here?”

“That we are, my lady. With the time we spent at the circle and our stop here, we’ve lost the light. There’s no even a sliver of moon showing out there and I’ve no taste for forcing you on in both snow and dark.”

So it was because of her they stopped for the night.

Dani briefly considered pointing out that she could continue on if he could. Very briefly. The short time he’d had that flap open had confirmed that it was much warmer in here than it was out there. Besides, the rest would do them both more good than harm.

He settled the horses where they’d entered, directly between them and the door.

Glancing first to the fireplace and then to the lack of an easy exit, Dani felt it was no more than her duty to point out the obvious hazard.

“You know, if we have a fire or an emergency or something, getting out of here in a hurry is going to be really difficult with the doorway blocked.”

“Aye, you’ve a point there, lass.” He tossed his pile of woolens and furs to ground at his feet, an equal distance between the horses and her, and then dropped down to sit on them. “On the other hand, if it’s difficult for us to get out, it’s equally difficult for anyone else to get in, aye?”

He was right. Apparently she needed to start thinking more medieval.

He leaned across to the fire, pulling and pushing bits about until the flames burned low, and then, with a muttered “Sleep well,” he rolled into his plaid and grew silent.

Dani fussed with her own pile of woolens and furs, finally getting as comfortable as possible, her back to Malcolm and the horses.

He lay two and half, maybe three feet from her, at most. If she rolled to her side and stretched out her arm, she could touch him.

Not that she would.

Still, the knowledge was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as the vision that danced through her mind of him on her first night in this world: his dark hair falling loose at his shoulders, his skin gleaming bronze in the firelight, that mark over his heart that had captured her attention, highlighting what she’d admit was one very impressive chest.

She’d been mere inches away from him then. Close enough she could have traced that mark with a fingertip. Traced it over skin she had no doubt would be warm and solid and—

Stop it!
Right now, before she started to breathe heavier than the damn horses.

She tried to fill her mind with the stone circle and, when that failed, with the faces of all the people she’d met at MacGahan Castle.

Each try failed, fading back into that flickering room and the expanse of decorated muscle that even now lay within easy reach.

“What’s that mark on your chest mean? That round tattoo thing?”
She blurted out the question, desperate to distract her thoughts from the path they were on.

“A family mark,” he said after a moment, his voice deep and rumbly. “Protection for the House of Odin. Now go to sleep. We’ll need to be up and on our way at first light.”

She rolled to her back, considering what he’d said.

Odin.
These guys were descended from Vikings? She’d read somewhere about Vikings invading Scotland, hadn’t she? Which would also explain Elesyria calling Patrick a Northman.

Her mind raced as she tried to concentrate on the mark, but each attempt simply filled her mind’s eye with flexing pectoral muscles.

She rolled to her side and found him staring at her.

“Go to sleep,” he said again, more like an order to an unruly three-year-old this time.

With a tug on her blanket and an audible huff, she rolled to her other side, her back facing Malcolm.

Sleep? Not likely. Not now. Not unless counting ripples on his chest would work as well as counting sheep, because chest ripples were all she was able to envision when she closed her eyes.

It was shaping up to be one very long night.

W
ITH THE SUN
little more than a promise in the sky, Dani stood in the doorway, surveying her surroundings. Sometime in the night, the snow had stopped, leaving only a light covering on the ground. It was still cold, but hopefully that would improve as the sun actually made its appearance.

A few feet away, Malcolm stood next to her horse, as if waiting to help her mount.

Right, then. New day in her new world. According to Elesyria, this was her reality now, so she might as well make the best of it with a fresh start. After so many years of feeling as if she merely existed on the sidelines of other people’s lives, waiting for whatever it was the Fae had planned for her, she was more than ready to jump into this life with both feet.

She simply wanted to make sure that when she landed, those feet were firmly planted, and the best way she could see for that was to start off with a clean slate. No regrets, no secrets.

Especially since the man in whose home she’d ended up didn’t seem to want her here very much. If this was where she belonged, she needed to make sure
nothing interfered with her being here until she could determine exactly why it was she belonged here.

Besides, there was another, more personal, reason for making sure she started off right with Malcolm. Maybe his wanting to get rid of her was why she was so obsessed with him. She always had found the unattainable more interesting than the freely offered. If she could only set everything straight between them, then he might not be so intent on getting rid of her.

Maybe then she could stop dreaming about his body.

Face already heating, she hurried over to where Malcolm waited. As he grasped her waist, she placed a hand on his chest, thinking to stop him.

Now was the time to talk it out.

“I have a couple of things I need to get off my chest.”

Malcolm, however, appeared in no mood to stand and talk. He responded with a frown and lifted her to her saddle as if she were no more than a sack of feathers.

“You’d best be keeping everything on yer chest, my lady. Though the sun promises to shine on us this day, it will no be so very warm for a good many hours.”

“No.” She shook her head, waiting for him to mount his horse next to her. “I meant that there are things I need to say to you. To clear the air between us.”

She sighed at his confused look. “Fresh new start”
would need to include her thinking about what she said before she said it.

“There are those at the castle who will fash themselves over our not having returned last night. We need to be on our way. But certainly you are free to speak as we ride, my lady.” Another little frown. “Into the clear air, if it pleases you.”

She deserved that one.

With a click of his tongue, he pulled his horse ahead of hers, leading the way. That was okay. She could talk loud if she needed to.

“First thing, let’s start with this whole ‘my lady’ business. I have a name, not a title. It’s Dani. I’d appreciate your using it. We’re not real big on royalty where I come from.”

“We have a few issues of our own with royalty.”

Of course they did. She’d seen the Braveheart movie. “So you understand, then. You call me Dani, I’ll call you Malcolm. Deal?”

He slowed his horse, waiting for her to pull up beside him. “As laird of the MacGahan, I’m usually addressed as—”

“Look, I’m a cook and a waitress, but I don’t want people using my job title to talk to me. You might be the laird, but you’re also Malcolm. It
is
your name, right?”

They sat in silence for a short time as he appeared to contemplate her argument.

“I concede yer point, my . . . Dani.”

He tugged at his reins, starting his horse forward, and she followed his lead, staying close to him. She wasn’t
finished yet. In fact, she was working her way through a mental list. She might have missed the perfect opportunity for the next item, but oh well. His ego would just have to deal with her apology.

“Good. Second thing is, I feel bad about that bruise on your jaw. I’m sure it was just a lucky punch and had everything not been so . . . weird, I never would have been able to hit you that hard.”

His fingers stole up to his jaw and when he turned to look at her this time, his face broke into a grin that took her breath away.

“You’ve a good arm, Dani. A fine, strong hit that would have surprised any man.”

Maybe he wasn’t so arrogantly alpha as she’d thought. She was on a roll. Two down and one to go. Saving the hardest for last.

“Okay, so, I know you’re not happy about having me here, and I’m sorry that I’ve caused a problem for you.”

She paused for a breath and he slipped into that space.

“I told you before, you’ve no blame on that count. You canna control what actions the Magical Folk take. They’ve their own way of thinking and their own intent. Yer but a pawn in whatever game Elesyria thinks to play. You’ve no call to apologize to me for being here.”

It would be so easy to leave it at that. So easy to let him believe as he did rather than to confess what she suspected to be the truth. But easy now would lead to complicated later on, and she would not be
responsible for starting her new life off on the wrong foot.

“No, I am sort of to blame. Not sort of. I am. Remember Elesyria saying something about not being able to reject a boon and you asked who had requested something?” She waited for a response, picking back up when he said nothing. “That would be me. You see, I’ve always believed in the Fae. Always believed they had some higher purpose for me. I’ve been waiting forever for some sign of what that purpose is. So when I called on the Queen at Samhain, I asked her to send me to do whatever it was the Faeries wanted of me.”

Again she waited, holding her breath that he wouldn’t just ride off and leave her here.

“Fifteen years, aye?”

“What?” She kicked her mount, forcing it to reach Malcolm’s side.

“It’s how long you told Elesyria you’d been waiting for them. Fifteen years.”

“That’s right. Since the summer of my eighth birthday, when I read my first book about them.”

His eyebrows drew together, but he kept riding, staring straight ahead.

“You’ve no call to take this responsibility on yerself, lass. Waiting fifteen years should tell you that. It’s of no matter that you asked the Fae to set you on yer path. They’d have ignored you for another fifteen years lest they had good reason of their own to send you now.” He turned toward her at last, his gaze an intense blue framed by his dark hair and whiskers. “Of that you can be sure. I give you my oath on it.”

It could be truth. After fifteen years of hearing absolutely nothing from the Fae, it certainly wouldn’t surprise her.

“And what do you think their reason is?”

He shook his head, turning away to stare into the distance before he answered. “I suspect it’s Elesyria’s way of punishing me for what happened to her daughter. You’ve no part in it, other than getting snared in their spiderweb of schemes.”

His accusation felt like a punch to the stomach. Here she was spending her nights battling some physical obsession with this man, and he viewed her as nothing more than punishment from the Fae. Having him angry with her couldn’t have been any worse.

He sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows. “If yer to stay, I suppose we’ll need to find something to do with you. Have you any skills?”

“Skills,” she squeaked, clenching her teeth together to keep in what she actually thought. Skills. Like sleeping on dirt floors? Or riding around in the wilderness? Or putting up with arrogant, thoughtless men?

“Aye. Any abilities or talents we could use?” He spoke calmly, as if he had no clue as to her real feelings.

Which, obviously, he didn’t.

“I’m a pretty good cook. I could do that. I’m also a waitress. I could do what your serving girls do.”

“Castle MacGahan has a cook and yer a wee bit
long in the tooth to be a serving lass.”

“Long in the tooth”? She’d seen that phrase before, in the historical books she loved to read. He was calling her old! Again she clenched her teeth together. She was actually sorry she’d bothered to apologize for slugging him. In fact, if given the chance right now, she’d kind of like to punch him again.