“If you think that, then you are blind,” she said defiantly.
He was reminded suddenly of that first day, when she challenged his authority in the Great Hall, and he dragged her to his private chamber to teach her a lesson about defiance and disobedience. But was he willing to treat her that way now? After all they had been through together?
No, he was not. But was she correct about Raonaid? Did his former lover want him back?
Did it even matter in the end?
“I will speak to her,” he said, “and I will send her away, if it will make you happy.”
Gwendolen looked toward the waterfall. “Yes, it will. Can we go home now?”
He rose to his feet and offered his hand, but she kept her gaze lowered as he assisted her onto the horse.
Chapter Twenty-three
Angus found Raonaid in the village alehouse, seated like a proper hostess at a dinner table, at the far end of one of the long planked tables. Laughter and the clatter of plates and pewter tankards filled the air. A few clansmen were crowded around her, singing and clacking their mugs together in a chorus of cheer.
Angus strode the length of the long table and rested his hand on one man’s shoulder. “If you’ll pardon the interruption, I need to borrow this lassie for a minute or two.”
“If you’re looking to have your fortunes read, chief, you best have coins in your sporran! She drives a hard bargain, this one does!”
The others laughed merrily.
“I already know my fortune,” Angus replied, as he held out a hand to Raonaid.
She glanced at it with cool suspicion, then finally let him escort her to the door.
Outside, the rain had stopped, the clouds had moved on, and the sun was shining. Raonaid lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked.
The smell of whisky on her breath wafted to Angus’s nostrils, and yet she showed no signs of drunkenness, for she could hold her liquor as well as any sword-swinging Highlander.
“Have you been in there all day, Raonaid?”
Her piercing blue eyes turned to him, and when she spoke, her voice was melancholy. “Does it really matter to you?”
He regarded her for a prolonged moment in the hazy afternoon light, and recalled a time when they had found pleasure and solace in each other’s arms. She had helped him through a difficult chapter in his life, and he, in turn, had been a friend to her when she had none.
But just as often, they had clashed passionately and fought for days on end. Most arguments ended with Raonaid smashing something.
“Let me help you into the saddle,” he said, crossing to his horse and gathering up the reins.
“I don’t need your help.”
Angus was in no mood to argue, so he waited for her to mount on her own, then swung up behind her. Together, they trotted toward the creek.
The distance was not great, so Angus was surprised when she tilted her head back and fell asleep on his shoulder.
He was careful to walk the horse most of the way over easy terrain. Thankfully they were the only travelers on the bridal path that led him into the forest, where he drank in the fresh scent of the pines and contemplated what he was going to say to Raonaid and how he was going to say it.
When they reached the creek, which flowed deep and still through a quiet green glade, he urged his horse out of the shady forest and shook her awake.
Disoriented and confused, she turned slightly in the saddle. “How long was I asleep?”
“Not long.” Angus dismounted and tethered his horse to a branch, then held his arms out to her.
This time she accepted his assistance and rested her hands on the tops of his shoulders. With a sleepy sigh, she slid gracefully down from the saddle.
“Always so gallant and strong,” she murmured with an appreciative grin as she ran her hands over the width of his chest.
