“I shouldnae eat too much too fast; I will be sick.”
Fergus frowned. “Have ye nae been eatin’ well?”
“I’ve been on the run,” Jeane answered although it was not much of an answer at all. Still, Fergus understood what she left unspoken. Before she arrived at the castle, she’d been wan andthin. It must have been a long time since she had eaten properly before she arrived.
Fergus chugged down his ale and noted that Jeane seemed to be keeping up with him, probably thirsty from all the work she had done today and all the riding.
By the time they were finished, Jeane’s cheeks were permanently flushed.
She stumbled as she stood, and Fergus put a hand on her hipbone to steady her.
“Ye’ve had yer fill?” he asked, bemused by how she swayed on her feet.
“Aye. Still cannae sleep, though.”
“How do ye ken?” Fergus teased, unable to help himself. “Ye might fall right asleep as soon as ye lie down.”
“I’m nae lyin’ next to ye,” she muttered, stubborn.
Fergus sighed as they ascended the stairs, righting Jeane when she swayed one way or the other.
The woman was infuriating, especially while she was drunk.
She pouted as she sat down heavily on the bed. “Nae tired.”
“Fightin’ sleep?” he teased, but there was no bite to it. She was bonny, all flushed and swaying, looking small and fragile in the middle of the bed.
He sat across from her, cross-legged, and reached into his knapsack and brought out a deck of cards.
“Ye play?” she asked.
“On occasion. But of course, a lady wouldnae ken the games I ken.”
“Would she nae?” Jeane grinned widely, and Fergus blinked at her, surprised.
“Oh, ye’re a surprisin’ little mouse, ye ken that?”
She giggled, and the sound made Fergus’ heart skip a beat.
“Are ye ever goin’ to tell me how ye got those scars?” Jeane asked suddenly after she won the third hand, and Fergus threw down his cards.
Fergus stiffened. “It isnae a good bedtime story, lass.”
“Aye, but I’d like to hear it, all the same,” Jeane said quietly.
Fergus stared at her for a long moment, considering. In the end, though, he shook his head.
“Nae tonight, little mouse.”
Jeane pouted but quickly recovered, crowing as she won the fourth hand.
Fergus cursed in Gaelic under his breath.
“That’s no way to speak in a lady’s presence,” Jeane teased.
“Ye’re a faerie, not a lady,” Fergus teased back.
Jeane laughed, loud and hearty, her cheeks flushed with ale. She looked beautiful, so beautiful that Fergus could barely look at her.
