“Wait,” he instructed, striding away in the direction of the keep. He came back with a broadsword and a small dagger, which he handed to her. “I know you have probably never been taught the art of swordplay, but this may give you some protection if we are set upon.”
Cora had never held a sword in her hand in her life, but she took the dagger out of its scabbard and gazed at it curiously. It looked wickedly sharp, with a stabbing point that was as narrow as a needle. She would hate to be whoever became a target for this.
“Be careful; it is deadly,” Clyde advised as he helped her on with the belt that held the sword.
Cora loved the light touch of his hands on her body, even though she was wearing clothes. He had obviously been riding too, because he smelled of leather, horses, and fresh sweat—a scent which was strangely appealing. It was a bodily perfume that could never have come from a woman, she reflected. He was so close to her that she could see the stubble on his face, and his long, thick eyelashes, light brown like his thick mane of hair. Something primal but delightful stirred inside her in a part of her body that she did not often think about, and she flushed.
He looked up suddenly, and their gazes locked. He was hypnotized by her eyes, which were the same dark blue as the loch on a sunny day. Her full lips were parted, and he reflected that if he tilted his head a little, he could kiss her. He almost did, but stopped himself at the last moment.
Cora could see Clyde’s intention in the green depths of his eyes, but as he turned away from her, she realized that she had been merely indulging in wishful thinking. He probably thought she was a little unhinged by this time!
They began to ride in silence, but unlike the previous evening, it was not comfortable or companionable, but awkward. At last, Cora broke it.
“I am sorry about the plan I suggested to you last night.” She was acutely embarrassed, and it showed in the trembling of her voice. “It was outrageous. I probably had too much wine, so please forget that I said anything.”
“I don’t want to forget it,” Clyde replied. “I want to talk about it, but I want to take you to a place where I sometimes go to be alone to think. You will like it, I promise.”
“What is it?” she asked. “A cave?”
He laughed. “No, not a cave. Wait and see.”
They rode on through the sheep-strewn moors around the castle for about half a mile, then came to a small stand of pine trees. Clyde picked his way carefully through it until they came to a small, sturdy hut made entirely of pine logs with a few narrow windows and a thatched roof, where he dismounted from his horse. He helped Cora dismount, then unlocked the stout door.
On the side there were a few roses so Cora picked up one before she walked inside, looking around her in amazement. The hut was square and not particularly big, but it housed a straw mattress, a rough wooden table and chair, and a stone fireplace over which was suspended a traditional iron cooking pot. There was a stack of thick woolen blankets in one corner and a few shelves that held wooden cups, plates, and spoons, as well as smaller cooking pots. Cora was surprised to see a big tin bath in one corner as well as a bowl for washing. A tin bucket and chamber pot completed the contents of the little building, which, despite the primitive nature of its construction, managed to be very cozy.
“How did you find this place?” Cora asked, turning to look more closely and marvel at everything.
“I did not find it,” he replied. “I built it.”
“You built it?” Her voice was a squeak. “But how did you know how to do it?”
“I work with many tenants,” he answered. “I watch them, and sometimes they teach me their skills. My woodwork is not pretty, but is strong enough to do what it must. Thatching is easy if you prepare enough, but I needed the help of the blacksmith to make the pots, pans, and chain for the kitchen.
“And the fireplace? Did you dress the stones yourself?”
“I did,” Clyde said proudly. He crossed his arms in front of himself and grinned at her. “It is not a palace, but I like it.”
“I cannot believe you did all this by yourself,” she breathed. Then she reached out and squeezed the bulging muscles of his upper arm. “But then again, maybe I can!” She giggled. “You are a very clever man!”
“Thank you.” He felt unaccountably embarrassed by her praise, and he felt himself harden at her touch and her nearness. A strong urge to pull her into his arms took hold of him, but he resisted it. He had known her less than a week, for God’s sake! He backed away and urged her to sit down on the chair, then he poured ale from a stoppered flask into one of the wooden cups before sitting down.
“I have been thinking about your plan.” His tone was thoughtful as he sipped his ale. He looking at Cora who was smellling the Rose. “I think it might succeed.”
“Really?” Cora was astonished. “I thought you might tell me I was insane! After I reconsidered it, I was so embarrassed.”
Clyde shook his head. “No, it is quite ingenious,” he said thoughtfully. “If we become betrothed—outwardly, that is—then I can give you protection, and many young men will see you. When we break our engagement and I rejoin Loraine, you will have many suitors falling over each other for your hand in marriage. We will kill two birds with one stone.”
Somehow the idea did not fill Cora with joy, but she pinned a smile on her face anyway. “Good. Then we are agreed.”
“I see only one flaw,” he said, frowning.
“And what is that?” she asked curiously.
“You must promise not to fall in love with me,” he said sternly.
Cora was about to throw an indignant reply at him when she saw him grinning at her. “You evil man!” she cried, giggling. “I promise.”
“I want you to mean it.”
