“Why is naming a horse amusing? What call you that one, on which sits your arse? Horse?” Now she was laughing. “Better yet…arse carrier.”
His eyes narrowed. “He is my horse, a fine animal, but nothing more.”
“Then you should have left me be and let me keep him, if he matters so little to you that you cannot give him a name.”
“There is no need for me to name my horse.”
“Perhaps,” she said sweetly. “Had you given him a name by which to call him, I might not have stolen him so easily…my lord.” She reached the other side of the saddle and slung a small bow and a quiver of arrows from the saddle.
"What is that?" Lyall stared at the weapon.
"My bow and arrows."
"You will have no need of weapons, woman."
She faced him. "How do you know?"
"You believe you can save us from attack with those?" Lyall laughed. A broadsword would cut her down before she had notched an arrow.
"I do not ride without them."
"I do not ride with them."
They exchanged the same look, then Lyall said, "Fine. Give them to me." He held out his hand. "I will not ride with an armed woman. Should we meet with trouble, you might shoot me while you're trying to notch that thing."
"You know nothing--"
"Give them to me." He would argue no more with her, for it was like trying to beat down a drawbridge with his head.
She rolled her eyes and handed them to him. "Here, then, my lord. I wouldn't want you to fear for your life because of an armed woman."
That was when he'd had enough of her mouth. He broke the bow in half and all the arrows, then tossed it aside, ignoring her gasp. "Now there will be no reason to argue any longer."
The look she gave him could have caused a fire. He cared naught but sat there staring back at her until she shook her head and looked away, clearly angry.
A bee buzzed 'round his head and he swatted at it, but it landed on his neck and stung him. He cursed and slapped a hand on it, pulling it and the stinger from his skin. He was scowling down at the dead insect when she said with a half laugh, "No doubt lured by your sweet manner, my lord."
She checked the rolled bundle she had tied to her horse, and her leather satchel bags then ran her hands down the horse’s legs and examined the hooves, before she adjusted the bridle again. This was the third time. She was stalling.
“Come now. We can waste no more time dawdling,” he told her sharply. “You should bid farewell to your brothers. They are waiting.”
“I would if I had brothers.” Glenna adjusted the bridle for the fourth time.
He understood pride, and its fall. Watching her, listening to her words and manner, made him vastly aware there was more of her father’s blood in her than she knew, more between themthan merely her great likeness to the man. One thing no one could change was who had sired them. Blood was blood. He knew that all too well.
“Glenna.” There was true pain in Elgin’s voice as he moved closer “I knew nothing of any of this. I beg you, do not hold me to blame.”
Lyall could see by the forced set of her shoulders she was battling her own bitterness. Silence fell over them and she stood still. She closed her eyes briefly, and then spun around. “Oh, El….” She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his neck.
Elgin patted her back gently. “You must forgive poor Alastair. He loves you well, as do I. Know this, Glenna, you will always be my own sister.” He spoke fiercely and with great heart.
Alastair stood back and away, listening, looking awkward, but clearly afraid to come closer lest she reject him. Her words must have cut him deeply. Certainly Lyall had felt the lash of a woman’s tongue before, and knew well how guilt could eat at a man long after the words, and even the woman who had spoken them, had died.
Glenna released her tight hold on Elgin and stepped back. He handed her his wide brimmed hat. “Here. Tuck up your braid and travel safe.”
She wrapped the long, thick braid of black hair around her head and plopped the hat on, grinning up at Elgin Gordon. He tied the strings under her chin and smiled back at her. She looked like a lad and Lyall wondered how many times she had done this; it looked to be a ritual between the two of them. She grabbed Elgin’s hand and kissed it, her expression soft for barely a heartbeat, then she let go and cast a glance at Alastair.
Her chin went up. Everything about her screamedTraitor!
