“I promise I won’t run off,” she insisted while she watched himpullthe rough twine from a saddlebag, and winced at the recollection of being tied up that morning. “Where in the world would I go? We haven’t seen a single soul for miles.
I’m not stupid, Gawyn.”
“Aye, but you might panic in the night,” Fergus said, “or try to slit our throats while we sleep.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a murderous savage.”
Fergus smiled crookedly. “But you’re in the company of savages, lassie, and don’t you know our wicked ways are contagious?”
She watched his ruddy face while he wrapped the twine around her wrists,stillraw and sore from the trials of the morning. “I am not sure, Fergus, whether you are serious or jesting.”
He grinned again. “It’llgive you something to think about, lassie, while you’re floatin’ off to dreamland.”
* * *
The morning sun woke Amelia from a restless slumber, and she sat up on the bed of fur to discover the fire was already snapping and blazing in the pit. Eggs were frying on a pan. “Gawyn, do you have chickens in your saddlebags?” she asked, looking down at her wrists and noticing that they were no longer bound. Someone had cut the ropes while she slept and she had not even been aware.
Gawyn threw his head back and laughed. “Chickens! Ah, Lady Amelia, you’re asillyone.”
She blinked a few times; then suddenly Duncan was standing over her, holding out a banged-up pewter mug. The sleep was not yet out of her eyes, and she had to crane her neck and squint to look up from his finely muscled legs and the folds of green tartan to his face,illuminated by the sun.
He seemed more attractive than ever, masculine and almost mythical, with one thick finger hooked through the handle of the dented mug, his other hand gripping the handle of his axe, his hair blowing lightly in the breeze.
“Must you always carry that thing?” she asked, tired of staring at the morbid weapon.
He tossed his head to flip hisdisheveledhair off his shoulder. “Aye, I must. Take this and drink up.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Coffee.”
Sitting up groggily, she accepted the steaming cup.
Duncan sat down beside her.
Gawyn was busy flipping the eggs, and Fergus was some distance away, swinging his broadsword through the air, lunging forward mightily.
“Is he practicing for something?” she asked, sipping the coffee.
“Nothing in particular.”
“Just the usual, everyday deadly skirmish, I suppose.”
Duncan glanced sideways at her but made no comment.
“Was it you who untied me?” she asked. “I must have been sleeping very deeply not to have noticed.”
“Aye, you slept soundlyallnight.”
She kept her eyes on Fergus,stillswinging his sword around. “And you couldtellthis from halfway up the mountain?”
“I came down whenallwas quiet,” he told her.
“So you were skulking around the camp, watching me sleep?”
“Aye.” He accepted another mug of coffee from Gawyn and blew the steam away. “I watched youallnight, lass, and it’s my duty to inform you that you snore like a bull.”
“I most certainly do not!”
