She couldn't believe it when her father told her that Sir Arthur had attempted to change his mind about the journey. Failing in this, he'd asked to accompany them. His skills as a scout would help ensure their safety, he'd argued. Her father had agreed, much to Anna's dismay.
So instead of ignoring him for a single day, she would be forced to endure his constant presence for days, possibly weeks.
Was he purposefully trying to torment her? What she had to do would be difficult enough without him around.
"He's a knight, Anna. A scout. Reporting on the enemy position is exactly what he's supposed to do. And I can't say I'm not glad to have him along. If he's as good as he claims to be, we can use him."
Anna turned to Alan, aghast. "You agree with Father?"
His jaw locked. Alan would never openly criticize their father, even if--like now--he wanted to. "I would have preferred you stay at Dunstaffnage, although I understand why Father insisted you come along. Ross will be more amenable to a direct appeal." He smiled. "You're a minx, Annie-love, but a bewitching one."
Anna's mouth twitched. "And you are annoyingly overprotective, but I love you, too."
He laughed, and Anna couldn't help joining him.
Sir Arthur turned at the sound and caught her unprepared. Their gazes snagged for an instant before she turned brusquely away. But it was long enough to send a fist of pain slamming into her chest. Why did it have to hurt so badly?
Alan didn't miss the exchange. He sobered, his gaze once again intent. "Are you sure that's all, Anna? I know what you said, but I think there is more between you and Sir Arthur than keeping an eye on him for Father. I think you care for him." The throb in her chest told her he was right, even if she wished it otherwise. "We can appeal to Ross without the betrothal," her brother said gently. "You don't need to sacrifice your happiness in the bargain."
A swell of emotion rose inside her. How fortunate she was to have such a brother. She knew not many men would feel the same. Happiness was not usually a consideration in marriage between nobles. Power, alliances, wealth--that was what mattered. But the love Alan had found in his marriage had given her brother a unique perspective.
Yet they would have a much better chance at gaining Ross's support with an alliance. Alan knew that as well as she did.
Besides, helping her family would never be a sacrifice. Especially since there actually had to be something to sacrifice. Arthur had made it painfully clear that there was nothing between them.
"I'm sure," she said firmly.
The certainty in her voice must have convinced him. Alan rode with her awhile longer, recalling previous journeys they'd made in the rare times of peace, but eventually he returned to his men.
They made good progress the first day, reaching as far as Loch Lochy before stopping for the night at an inn near the southern head of the loch. The small stone and thatched building looked ancient, and given its position near an old Roman road, Anna suspected it might be.
She was stiff and achy, feeling every hour of the long day in her legs, bottom, and back, and grateful for the roof and bed, no matter how crude. She washed and managed a few bites of fish stew and brown bread before collapsing into bed, her maidservant, Berta, snoring on a pallet beside her.
The second night, however, they were not so fortunate. Her bed this night would be a pallet in a small tent in the forest just south of Loch Ness.
It had been a long day, made longer by Arthur's steady stream of scouting reports. To avoid potentially dangerous situations, such as open stretches of road or natural places for ambushes, at times they veered well off the road. Which meant that instead of the twenty-five miles they would have been on the road, they'd probably ridden thirty-five through the dense forests and rolling hills of Lochaber.
It seemed an overabundance of caution to her. So far they'd seen nothing out of the ordinary--villagers, fishermen, and an occasional party of travelers. If Bruce's men were patrolling the roads, they hadn't made themselves known.
Perhaps the extra miles were another way Sir Arthur had devised to torment her? As if his presence were not enough.
Not used to the long days riding, Anna's legs shook as she knelt at the banks of the river to wash her hands. She lowered her face, hoping to shock away some of her tiredness, but the cold splash of water did little to refresh her.
She groaned, her bones and joints objecting, as she attempted to stand. Creaking like an old woman, she made it back up to her feet.
In no hurry to return to camp, she took a moment to savor the moment of solitude. Though the rest of the party was only a few dozen yards away, the dense canopy of trees and moss seemed to suck up sound. Occasionally, she could hear the faint sound of voices, but otherwise it was remarkably quiet and the most peace she'd had since arriving in thebarmkinyesterday morning to find Sir Arthur Campbell ready to ride out with them.
Nearly two days of trying to force herself not to look at him had taken its toll. It was worse than she'd feared. Even though she'd ignored him, avoiding his gaze every time he looked in her direction, she was painfully aware of his every movement. The hole of longing that seemed to be burning in her chest was growing bigger. Heavier. Grinding away at her emotions, leaving her raw and tender.
She didn't know how much more of this she could take. Why did he have to be here?
Heaving a weary sigh, she turned from the soothing stream of water rushing over the rocks. Berta would send her brother after her in a panic if she didn't return in the few minutes that she'd promised. Besides, it was getting dark.
She'd taken only a few steps into the forest when a man stepped out of the shadows to block her path.
Her pulse spiked in panic. She opened her mouth to scream, but it was smothered by recognition.
Her mouth slammed shut. Her pulse, however, remained frantic. "Don't do that," she snapped, gazing up into the handsome face of Sir Arthur. "You scared me to death."
