Jenna looked up at the enormous gelding, and her face paled. “On that?”
Despite himself, Arran laughed. “Aye, on that. Come, I’ll introduce ye. He willnae bite.”
With a dubious expression, Jenna walked over to Bran. She tentatively held out her hand and the big gelding gracefully arched his neck, lowered his nose, and sniffed her hand. Jenna let out a delighted laugh and then patted him on the end of his fuzzy nose. The big horse snorted softly, his eyes closing.
“See? He’s a big softie really, and I think he likes ye.”
Jenna gently stroked the white stripe that ran along Bran’s nose. “He’s beautiful.”
As are ye.
The thought flashed through Arran’s head before he could stop it. He blinked, suddenly caught off balance. Where had that come from?
He turned to Mal. “Take the men and patrol the coast as far as Ransay. Make sure none of the raiders have decided to hole up in the caves out there.”
Mal frowned. “But I thought we were riding out with ye?”
“That willnae be necessary.”
Mal’s bluff face folded into a scowl. “Willnae be necessary? Are ye serious? With what happened yesterday? Those raiders—”
“Will be long gone by now. They wouldnae be foolish enough to loiter around the same area.”
“And if ye are wrong?”
Arran clenched his jaw. “Then I will deal with it. Or do ye think yer laird is so weak he needs the protection of ten men wherever he goes?” His tone was low and full of threat, but Mal didn’t back down.
“I’m sure my laird is more than capable of looking after himself, but he will have our guest with him, willnae he? Can my esteemed laird guarantee the lady’s safety?”
Arran ground his teeth. He knew he was being reckless sending his men away and the sensible thing would be to allow them to accompany him and Jenna on a tour of the island. But he suddenly didn’t feelsensible. He felt stifled, constrained, and wanted, just for a little while, to be free of the shackles of being the laird. And he wanted to be alone with Jenna.
“Dinna concern yerself with the lady’s safety,” he growled. “I willnae let harm come to her.” And, truth be told, he doubted a MacFinnan spellweaver would need any protection from him.
Mal scowled for a moment longer, but then inclined his head. “As ye wish.”
Arran nodded and turned to where Jenna was petting Bran. “Ready?”
She shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” He put his hands around her waist and lifted her into Bran’s saddle.
She yelped in surprise and gave him a murderous scowl. “Will you stop doing that? A little warning next time, please?”
“Aye, my lady.” He hid a grin as he got his foot into the stirrup and swung up behind her, settling his weight into the soft leather saddle. Reaching around her, he gripped the reins and then nudged Bran into a walk towards the gates.
Jenna clung onto the saddle horn, leaning forward so she was almost draped over Bran’s neck, and looking so ungainly that Arran had to stifle a smile.
“Straighten up, lass,” he instructed her. “Let yer weight settle through yer hips and sway with the movement of the horse. Ye will soon find yer balance.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. But she did as he instructed, pushing herself upright while still holding onto the saddle horn. It brought her close to Arran, her back only an inch or two away from his chest, so close he could smell the scent of lavender soap on her.
Without looking back, he guided Bran through the gates of Dun Tabor and out into the wilds of Skye.
Chapter Seven
This was notwhat Jenna had in mind when she’d agreed to a tour of the island yesterday. Although, to be honest, she didn’t really knowwhatshe’d had in mind. Yesterday had been such a blur, and there had been so many thoughts swirling around in her head that she could have agreed to anything.
Still, she reflected, as they moved at a sedate walk down the gravelly road that led from Dun Tabor’s gates and through the village, it could be worse. The morning was bright and sunny, with a pleasant breeze blowing in from the sea, bringing with it the scent of sea salt and helping to clear Jenna’s headache a little.
