She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to cry. She wanted to crawl into a ball and forget any of this had ever happened.
“Where were you going?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “I just wanted to ride.”
“I’ll go with you.”
She was too anxious to get away to argue with him. God knew her reputation couldn’t suffer any more. And if he didn’t mind being seen with the Whore of Babylon, she wasn’t going to stop him.
He helped her saddle Dubh, and then saddled his own horse before lifting her up. They passed the guards at the gate without comment, and soon they were riding down castle hill to the flat stretch of land she’d raced over earlier that day. They rode past the abbey and continued along the banks of the River Forth until the castle on the rock, the narrow wynds of tightly packed stone and wattle-and-daub houses, and the town of Stirling fell behind them.
Only then did she slow, realizing how fast she’d been riding. Dubh had sensed her urgency to get away and responded.
It was late afternoon, which at this time of year meant the sun was already beginning to sink on the horizon. It was also, she realized too late, extremely cold and damp. Dark clouds hovered threateningly above them.
“Here take this.”
They were the first words he’d spoken since the stable. She turned to find him riding beside her, holding out the plaid he’d had wrapped around his shoulders.
She shook her head to refuse, but he gave her a hard look that told her he was going to be stubborn.
“But it looks like it’s going to rain,” she protested. “Your fine surcoat will be ruined.”
It looked to be a costly garment, a dark blue velvet edged with intricately embroidered scroll and leaf pattern in gold thread.
“Aye, well perhaps the next time you decide to take a ride before a storm, you could grab a cloak?”
The slight lift of one corner of his mouth gave him away.
“Are you teasing me?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
“Maybe.” He shrugged, as if it surprised him, too. “Take the plaid, Lady Margaret. I’ll survive.”
“You called me Maggie before.”
“Did I?” He gave her a sidelong look. “Very well then, take it, Maggie.”
She did as he bid, wrapping the thick green and blue patterned wool around her shoulders. A feeling of warmth settled instantly around her.Hesettled around her, she realized, for the plaid still held the heat from his body. And it smelled of him, warm and cozy with just the faintest hint of heather. Drawing a deep breath, she sighed with contentment.
“Comfortable?” he asked dryly, as the first raindrops began to fall.
Their eyes met. She probably should have felt guilty, but something about his teasing made her happy. She sensed that he did not reveal this side of himself very often. So instead her mouth quirked. “Very.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You might at least feign a little concern for my suffering.”
She rolled her eyes. “And if you decide to play knight errant again, you should try not to whine. It rather ruins the effect.”
“Not to mention a good surcoat.”
This time it was she who laughed. It took her a moment to realize what he’d done. He’d made her feel better. “You’re very clever, aren’t you?”
His mouth quirked. “Not always apparently.”
It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. Did he regret being here with her?
“We can return now, if you’d like,” she said.
He shook his head, eyeing the dark clouds. “I think it’s better if we get out of the storm.” He pointed to a dilapidated stone building nestled along the river up ahead that appeared to be a fisherman’s cottage. Long abandoned by the looks of it. “We can try in there. Half a roof is better than none.”
