Ivor grinned. “Ye can give it a fair go,” he teased. “Just dinnae get it all over yer pretty new dress.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, but itwaspretty. She didn’t know that men were able to pick out such adorable clothing. It was lovely but simplistic; blue trimmed with white, modest but clinging, and when she’d put it on after bathing this morning, she’d started feeling like herself again at last.
They continued to banter back and forth while they ate, each enjoying the other’s company without needing to worry. Still, Eithne saw the wariness in his eyes.
“Relax, Ivor,” she said, taking his hand. “We’re nearly there. Ye did it.”
“I did,” he agreed, though he didn’t look any happier. “But Eithne…ye ken that once we get to MacDonnell, we part ways, aye?”
Eithne’s smile faltered. Shedidknow that, but…
“I’m…I just want to be upfront with ye,” he went on, toying with the whites of one of the eggs. “I dinnae belong in castles or in northern clans.”
“Wheredoye belong?” she asked, trying not to let her voice tremble. Her mood, which had been soaring just a moment before, was plummeting.
“I’m a traveler—a mercenary. I need to wander,” he told her. “The only home I have is a wee shack south of Kinnear, where the Highlands and the Lowlands meet, but it’s just where I keep my things. I cannae settle.”
“Will ye tell me why not?” she asked. Her eyes stung, but she refused to let tears appear.
“Me parents, they died when I was just a boy. And me sister…” he started, then shook his head. “Nay. It doesnae matter. I just cannae go where I dinnae belong.”
Ye belong with me, nae matter where we are!
She was surprised by her own thought. Was that indeed how she felt? The last few days had been a tumult of emotion. Perhaps she couldn’t trust herself right now. Maybe they needed to talk about it.
But though her mind warred, outwardly, she just nodded. It wasn’t like she’d expected anything else from Ivor. Had she?
What is it that ye really want, Eithne? Aside from finding Myrna, what do ye need?
Eithne took a deep breath, her eyes on the table as she answered her own thoughts. “I would like…I’d like to continue whatever this is that we have between us. Even if it’s just for a few more days. Ye make me feel…when I’m with ye, I…”
“Shh,” he whispered. Eithne glanced up incredulously, hurt, but he wasn’t looking at her. His expression had changed, and he was furtively examining the room. She didn’t even think he heard what she said.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, lowering her own voice.
“Trouble,” he muttered. Eithne glanced round, recognized the tartan, and wondered how much else she could possibly take.
* * *
Ivor felt the stares of the men just as Eithne began speaking, and it entirely stole his concentration. Two men sat at a table nearby, not even pretending to eat the food in front of them. They weren’t looking at him, but at her – and it wasn’t hard to work out why.
His hand tightened on the edge of the table as his alertness flared. Suddenly, he was glad for his years of paranoia that had resulted in him wearing his sword even just as far as breakfast.
“That’s MacDuff tartan,” Eithne whispered, horrified. “How did they find me?”
“I’m nae sure,” he said. “But I need ye to stay quiet and do exactly as I tell ye, all right?”
She silently nodded, and Ivor breathed out in relief. Idly, he thought that it was good they had nothing of import back in the room, as they couldn’t return to their room now. His bow and arrows, thank goodness, had been left in their storage on the horse’s saddle.
He took Eithne by the arm and went over to the bar, a pleasant expression on his face even as he tensed inside. She didn’t need to know that he was ready for a battle.
“Here, for the meal and for yer troubles,” he said, dropping a few heavy coins on the counter. His voice was overly cheerful, and he knew he had to tone it down. “Thank ye,” he said, a bit more subdued.
“Thankye,sir,” the woman said.
Ivor nodded, and then together, he and Eithne walked out of the inn, deliberately not looking toward the men. Perhaps, if they looked to be leaving casually, the spies would think they were mistaken. After all, they were looking for a single, fleeing maiden covered in blood – not a mercenary and his supposed wife, clean and in a new dress.
Aibreann whinnied happily when they entered, and Ivor slipped the stable boy even more coin. He was fast going through his supply, but it was better this way than to raise too much suspicion. Money had a way of keeping people’s mouths shut.
