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СКАЧАТЬ endured, then she would grow silent and withdraw, just as she had now. It left him feeling as if she had retreated from him, yet he knew that was not truly the case. He could not help but wonder, however, how long the shadow of Sir Bearnard would hang over them.

      “Not every mon is like your guardian,” he said, huddling back in the shelter and gently tugging her to his side.

      “I ken it. Tavig, I am sorry if the way I act sometimes offends you.”

      He lightly kissed her mouth, stopping her words. “No need to apologize. As ye must learn to heed how the words are spoken, and not just the words themselves, so I must learn to cease thinking that every flash of fear or instinctive cringe is directed at me. Sir Bearnard taught ye those harsh lessons. Ye just need time to learn when and with whom they are needed. Although I intend to insure that ye never have to live that way again.”

      “Oh, and how do ye plan to do that?”

      “By convincing ye to stay with me.”

      “Aye? Your fate isnae too certain, my fine knight. I cannae see that sharing a gallows with you is better than living with Sir Bearnard.”

      “And I dinnae intend to swing from Iver’s gallows.”

      “I cannae say I wish that to happen either, but I dinnae understand how ye can be so verra sure that it willnae.”

      “Once I reach my cousin Mungan I will have the aid I need to fight it out with Iver.”

      “That willnae prove your innocence.” She yawned, leaning more heavily against him.

      “True, but no one believes I killed those men. Every one of my people at Drumdearg kens exactly who is the murderer. Howbeit, I shall try to get some proof of my innocence, mayhap some confession, so that others will believe it, too.” He shook his head. “I have thought of little else besides getting back what has been stolen from me and of making Iver pay for his crimes. Ye are right, though. That willnae prove my innocence, and since Iver has spread his baseless accusations far and wide, I must look to the matter of clearing that black mark from my name.”

      “Ye may never be able to fully clear it.”

      “Ye are a veritable well of cheer, arenae ye?” he grumbled, then smiled when she giggled sleepily. “And ye are right about that as weel, although I curse the unfairness of it. Nevertheless, the people that matter will ken the truth. Most of them do already.”

      “And ye are verra sure that your cousin Mungan will believe your tale and not hand ye over to Iver?”

      “Verra sure. Mungan has always loathed and mistrusted Iver.” He touched a kiss to the top of her head. “Dinnae worry, lass. We will be safe at Mungan’s, and I will find out what game he plays by snatching your cousin.”

      “Ye dinnae suppose he saw her from afar, fell in love with her, and had to try to make her his?”

      Tavig thought about that for a moment then replied with confidence, “Nay, not Mungan. He isnae given to such feelings. He is a good mon, and I am certain your cousin is safe and unharmed, but Mungan isnae a romantic sort of fellow. When he decides to take a wife he will be good to her, care for her, and be unswervingly faithful, but she will have to accept that she willnae hear much flattery, sweet words, or declarations of heartfelt sentiment. Then, too, if by some miracle Mungan has been seized by a romantic urge, why has he asked a ransom for her?”

      “He could have lost his romantic urge when he discovered that my cousin Una didnae and wouldnae feel the same.”

      “Mayhap, but I truly doubt it. Mungan just isnae that type of mon. He once hanged a minstrel up by his feet, dangled the poor fellow over the head table because the mon wouldnae sing anything but songs of love. Ye see, Mungan wished to hear a few rousing tunes about battles won and lost. Mostly won, though, and won by the Scots.”

      Although her eyelids were weighted by her need to sleep, Moira managed one last long look at Tavig. “And ye think we shall find safety with such a madmon?”

      He laughed as he leaned more comfortably against the tree trunk he had used to help support their meager shelter. “He didnae kill the minstrel, did he? Nay, nor did he dangle the mon long enough for the poor terrified fool to be injured. Mungan is, weel, odd, but harmless. At least toward those he counts as his friends. I swear to ye, ye will be safe with the mon. Mungan has ne’er hurt a woman or a child.”

      Moira could not fully suppress a wide yawn. “Ye have a verra odd family, Tavig MacAlpin.”

      “Ye dinnae ken the half of it, dearling. Go to sleep. Ye need your rest. We still have a long way to go.”

      A moment later he felt her grow lax and heavy in his arms. He glanced at her feet, sighing over the discomfort she had to be suffering. Tavig wished he could carry her all the way to Mungan’s keep. As he gently brushed a few damp strands of hair from her face, he also wished he knew how to make her trust him, to love him and want to stay with him. There were ten, perhaps twelve, days left before they reached Mungan’s keep. Despite the fact that they would have to walk every mile, it suddenly looked to be far too short a time.

      Moira groaned softly, curling her arms around Tavig’s neck as his lips warmed hers. His kiss stole the cold invading her body as well as all her aches and pains. Her discomfort was quickly replaced by passion. She pressed her body closer to his, soaking up his heat and savoring the feel of his long, sinewy body.

      He traced her shape with his skilled hands. Moira shuddered with delight when he curved his hands over her backside, pressing her loins against his. She could feel the hard proof of his desire. It enthralled her. She gasped with pleasure when he slid his hand up her side to cup her breast. For a full minute she blindly arched into his touch, then a tiny shaft of reason broke through the haze of passion clouding her mind. With a soft curse, she scrambled out of his hold and got up on her knees, her head brushing the top of their shelter. She glared at Tavig.

      “I dinnae suppose ye could just say ‘good morn, lass,’” she snapped and, seeing dawn’s light brightening the sky, crawled out from beneath the tiny shelter.

      “I thought that was what I was doing,” Tavig said, crawling out and standing up for a leisurely stretch.

      “What ye were doing was trying to catch me unawares so that ye could have your way with me.”

      “My way? It felt like it might be your way as weel, lass.”

      “I dinnae think so, Sir Tavig.”

      She decided to ignore his impudent grin, striding off to the shelter of the trees to relieve herself. As she readjusted her clothes she realized that, although the cool rain had helped, her feet still ached. Moira thought it extremely unfair that she could not use her healing hands to cure her own pain. Even if she tried, she risked Tavig discovering her strange gift. From past experience she knew she would leave herself so completely drained, so utterly weakened, that, even if Tavig did not guess that she could heal with a touch, he would certainly be dangerously curious over how her feet were so much better but she could not walk a step.

      Moira shook her head as she returned to camp, finding that Tavig had already taken down their shelter and started their meal. She dearly wished she understood her strange skill better. Mayhap then she would not be so afraid of others finding out about it. Sadly she admitted her gift was enough of a mystery to herself, almost frightening at times, and she could easily see how deeply СКАЧАТЬ