“But you are not of the order?”
He shook his head.
“Do you have a holding?”
“I praise God that you are not overly curious,” Fergus drawled, and Duncan chuckled.
Anna turned on him, fire in her eyes. “If I am to be his bride, then I should know some detail of his life.”
Fergus shrugged. “We should all like to know more of Bartholomew’s secrets,” he drawled and she turned to Bartholomew anew.
“I have no secrets,” he said softly.
“Nay?” Fergus asked. “Then why the insistence upon this road?”
“And why the departure from Gaston’s abode?” Duncan added.
Bartholomew held his ground. “I wished to see your home and more of the world, no more than that,” he said, though he imagined Fergus remained skeptical. He bowed to the other knight. “But perhaps you, when you come into your inheritance, will see your way to offering me a post in your keep.”
Fergus lifted a brow. “After you declined a similar offer from Gaston? It might well be a waste of breath.”
“And it might not.” Bartholomew had not told them of his hope for Haynesdale, but he had insisted they travel by this route. He knew that both men were curious beyond all, and was relieved when the subject was dropped. He felt a strange conviction that to express his dream aloud would reveal the folly of it.
Anna bit her lip. “So it is the promise of goodwill that keeps you by his side.”
Bartholomew chose to tease her. “I am only practical. We must eat something, wife, particularly if we are to have sons.” Duncan smiled and turned to his steed.
Anna held his gaze for a long moment, her intensity making his heart leap. It was almost as if she guessed the truth that he did not wish to utter aloud, as if she discerned the secret he hid from all.
But that was impossible.
“You are a wretchedly confident man,” she said with a shake of her head. “To take a bride with no means of supporting her is most audacious.”
Bartholomew grinned despite himself, for he would never have committed such an impetus deed.
“Perhaps he trusts that the course of love will run true,” Fergus teased.
Anna flushed. “Perhaps he is fortunate that our match is but a tale,” she countered. “Were I truly a bride and learned as much of my husband’s scheme, I might well abandon the match.”
“You could not if it had been consummated,” Bartholomew observed.
“Then I am the fortunate one,” she retorted. “For I have yet a choice.”
Bartholomew grinned at her. “Was that a challenge, my lady? Shall I see you seduced this night to ensure that your choice is made?”
Though his tone was teasing, again her reaction was vehement. “You could not. You would not!” She even retreated from him.
“I might convince you.”
Anna flushed furiously and strode toward the horses. It proved that her elegant manners were readily abandoned, for she moved with her former purpose. “Vexing man,” she muttered.
“’Tis why you love me,” Bartholomew countered. “I see the truth of it in your eyes.”
“Wretch,” she whispered, but her blush deepened.
“Their match was destined to be,” Fergus teased but Anna ignored him.
Bartholomew swung into the saddle, then urged Zephyr toward a fallen log. Anna climbed atop it, more agile than any lady he had ever known. He held her hand and she used the stirrup to climb and ride pillion behind him. She had donned his cloak again and flicked it out of the way as she positioned herself, then draped it over Zephyr’s back with Leila’s assistance. Then the younger woman climbed into the saddle of her palfrey.
