‘I want a horse,’ she said suddenly.
‘What?’ Her sudden change in subject confused him. He thought of the gelding his brothers had left behind.
‘Not yours,’ she said hastily. ‘You’ll need that one to return. But I’d like a horse of my own.’
He stared, uncomprehending.
‘You asked what I wanted in return for keeping you. I’d like a horse.’
If she had asked for a warrior’s ransom, he’d not have been more surprised. ‘What do you need a horse for?’
‘That is my business. You asked, and I answered. Now, if you do not mind, I must tend to my garden.’
‘Horses are worth a great deal.’
‘As are your hands. If you wish to grant me a gift, that is what I want.’
He didn’t understand her desire for such an animal, but he could not promise such wealth without a few conditions of his own.
‘I will meet your terms if my hands heal enough to wield a sword again.’ He tried to flex the bindings holding his wrist. A deep ache shot through him with the effort.
‘I can make no promises—’
‘Then I will give a lesser payment for your care. If you restore my hands, I’ll grant you a horse.’
She wavered, but at last nodded. ‘There may be some exercises where we can train your wrists and hands to be strong again.’
‘Good.’
She started to walk away, but he stopped her. ‘I am not your enemy, Aileen. I am no threat, nor would I ever bring harm to you.’
‘I know it.’ But even as she spoke, she shielded her expression. She reminded him of a wild mare, easily startled.
‘There is no need to hide from me.’
Aileen raised her gaze to him. ‘I am not hiding from you, Connor.’
‘There is something else,’ he mentioned. It was an indelicate matter, but one he could not avoid. Perhaps it was good that she disliked him so, for then it would not bother her.
Aileen waited, her face questioning. Connor offered his most innocent look, the one most maidens sighed over. ‘I am in great need of a bath. I smell like a swine.’
Without waiting for a reply, he whistled and made his way towards the cottages in the distance.
Aileen ripped weeds from the earth, attacking them like a horde of invaders. She longed to dump a bucket of freezing water over Connor’s arrogant head. Did he expect her to giggle and fawn over him, soaping his muscles as she blushed like a maiden?
She groaned. On the night she had tended his wounds, and many times since, she had seen for herself how time and training had sculpted his chest. Her most vivid imaginings could not have conjured up a more magnificent warrior. With dark golden hair and the face of Belenus, Connor still evoked long-buried feelings of desire. To touch his bare skin, washing him with only a light cloth made her body remember exactly what it was like to lie with him.
She hacked a stray clump of grass out of her lavender bed, berating herself. She was a healer, wasn’t she? As a wounded man, Connor could hardly bathe himself.
When he’d touched her shoulders, it was as though her body remembered him from so many years ago. The physical contact had startled her. She didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want to risk feeling the sharp longing of desire.
Expelling a sigh, she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. When her garden held no more weeds, she walked toward the stream. She knelt at the water’s edge and scooped up a mouthful of cool, clear water.
It was then that she saw her father Graeme walking toward her. He leaned upon a walking stick, his broad shoulders and girth revealing his weakness for fine foods. His hair held strands of grey, though he wore war braids at his temples in memory of his younger days.
She rose to her feet, tucking the stray hairs back. With a splash of water on her face, she scrubbed it clean to greet him.
Graeme embraced her with a warm smile. ‘Aileen, you are looking well,a iníon.’
