“What are ye after?”
“Now, lass, just because I try to speak sweet words to ye and to cuddle some…”
“It isnae that exactly, but there is an air of wheedling about ye.”
He grinned, not the least bit disturbed by her suspicions, but then said quietly, “I have a fierce desire to ride Elfking to the Dunmores. I am thinking I would look verra fine and impressive arriving on such a mount.”
“Ye look verra fine and impressive riding on Raven.”
“Aye, but they are used to the sight.”
She rolled her eyes in disgust over his lack of modesty, but he grinned. Even while indulging in that nonsense, she was thinking hard. He would look impressive upon Elfking, his darkness a perfect foil for Elfking’s pure white form. It would be a sight the Dunmores would not soon forget. Unfortunately, despite her efforts not to be suspicious, she could not believe that his only motive.
“Is that your only reason?”
“Ye wound me with your mistrust.”
“I doubt that. Ye have been working verra hard to woo Elfking away from me. Dinnae try to deny it. This may be but another ploy.”
“Nay, ’tis not that.”
“Ye really wish to be grand-looking before the Dunmores?”
“Aye. It never hurts to have your allies see ye as a wee bit bigger than life.”
He watched her frown in thought as she stroked Elfking’s neck. A twinge of guilt assailed him for, although he had not lied, he had not been completely truthful, just as she had accused him. Advancing his cause to win the horse was ever there but did not prompt his request. He would be gone, out of her bed. Without the bonds of passion holding her, she could well try to slip away. There was a far less chance of her attempting escape if she would have to do it without her precious horse. Inwardly, he grimaced recognizing that increasingly, he found himself jealous of the animal’s place in her affections.
Aimil stroked her mount and tried to order her thoughts. No matter what Parlan’s reason for wanting to ride Elfking, once he was on the mount’s back, she suspected it would be hard to remove him. She was sure he knew that once Elfking was made to accept him as a rider there could be no going back. The horse could not be made to understand that something was only temporary. To let Parlan ride Elfking could well be the first and irrevocable step to giving him the horse.
She realized suddenly that that no longer troubled her. Elfking was important but no longer all important. What would make Parlan happy was dear to her. As she turned to look at Parlan, she wondered a little nervously if he would read all that was behind her gesture. He would know as well as she did that once she bade Elfking to let him ride, she was, in most respects, giving him her horse, her most prized possession. It was a gesture that could mean a lot or could be rash. Although she did not want him to think her foolish, she decided that, under the circumstances, it would be better than having him guess the state of her heart.
“Aye, ye can ride Elfking to the Dunmores.”
Parlan struggled not to embrace her heartily so exultant did her gesture make him feel. She might be unaware of what lay behind her act. Too exuberant a reaction could be seen as a triumphant display for getting nearer to possessing the horse not her heart. That was not an impression he wished to give her so he simply smiled.
“How do we go about this then?”
“We must ride together first.”
Tossing her up on the horse’s back, he said, “Let us be off then.”
“Ye are verra eager,” she drawled as he carefully mounted behind her.
“What man wouldnae be over the chance to ride such a magnificent beast and”—he nuzzled her neck making her giggle—“with such a bonnie lass to wrap his arms about.”
“Humph. Ye are verra sweet of tongue when ye get your way.” As they rode out of the gate, she cast him a sly glance. “I may be luring ye to a lonely spot where I plan to stick a dirk between your ribs and then be off.”
“Malcolm wouldnae stand for it.”
Looking in the direction he indicated, she saw Malcolm and Lagan trailing a discreet distance behind. “They truly dinnae think I would ever do such a thing, do they?” She was a little offended at that sign of mistrust.
“Nay, but there are some about who would sore like to.”
“Husbands most like.”
“Ye do see me as a rogue.”
“Are ye not then?”
