He’d slain a man before her Yuletide hearth – and not just any man, but a noble.
She hurried on all the same, something deep inside her banishing her fear.
“Ho, lass!” He reined in, leaping down from the great beast’s back only to seize her by the waist and swing her up onto the saddle. “I’ll no’ have you twisting an ankle, running across icy ground,” he said, taking the reins and leading the horse into the shelter of the small glen flanked by high, stone-roughened hills but open on one side to the vastness of the moors.
“I am fine.” Alanna pushed back her hair, aware of the strangest sensation that time spun around her, as if they’d exchanged these words before. “Grant women don’t fall easily.”
“Then all is well. Your no’ so wee friend would ne’er forgive me otherwise.” He tossed her a glance, his arm once again supporting Gubbie. “That willnae do. No’ after I went to so much trouble to fetch him for you.”
“You really did.” Alanna blinked against the heat pricking her eyes. “And you found his carrier,” she added, her voice catching. “I made it for him years ago, when he turned too lazy to walk with me. I thank you, more than I can say.”
“Aye, well.” He smiled, looking much less hard-faced and fierce, and much too handsome for a brigand. “Could be if you fed him less, he’d move about more?
“As for thanking me…” His smile faded. “’Twas nae bother.”
“Please, let me have him.” She swiped a tear off her cheek, not caring if he saw. She needed Gubbie close, snuggled against her heart. “I’ve missed him.”
“He surely missed you, too. A big lout like me is no’ so fine a companion as you.”
“Then give him to me.” She reached out for him, again surprised by how comfortable she felt in his company. How safe, as if he wouldn’t let anyone harm her.
And yet…
The image of Dunwhinnie rose in her mind, again reminding her that he wasn’t a gallant, or even a good man – not when he’d killed someone right before her eyes, in the midst of a Yule feast.
He was an outlaw.
And there wouldn’t have been a need for him to fetch Gubbie if he hadn’t kidnapped her.
Still…
Her heart thumped when his hands brushed hers as he lifted Gubbie into her arms. More damning, when he took a moment to slip the carrier’s straps over her head, easing them in place across her shoulders. Something inside her melted then and for a frightening moment as he stepped back, his face blurred before her, changing somehow, yet staying the same.
His hair remained dark, though unbound with a few tight braids woven into its thickness. His eyes, no longer green, but the light blue of a summer sky. His features altered as well, but he was still recognizable, and handsome.
Then she blinked and the oddness ended, leaving only the pounding of her heart, a shocked dryness in her mouth.
She swallowed, hoped he couldn’t tell.
She did glance at the fallen pines, wondered if he knew their story.
“Aye, I ken the tales,” he said, following her gaze. “Bards’ babble, nae more.”
“I believe.” She slid from the saddle, not wanting him to touch her again. “I have seen them turn silver.”
His brow lifted. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“They look like ordinary fallen trees to me.” He strode over to theLovers, bent for a closer look. “Old, for sure, but no’ silvered.”
“Of course, they aren’t.” She reached inside the plaids draped around her, rubbed Gubbie’s neck and shoulders. “You spoiled the magic.”
He straightened. “Are you saying you saw them turn silver now, this night?”
“Aye.” Alanna nodded. “The night mist, too.”
“Highland mist often looks silvery. Moonlight, as well. There’s nae magic to it. ’Tis the weather.”
