“Worse than me,” I assured her. “He’s nae walking any longer.”
“Ye broke his legs?” she gasped.
“Nay, I tied him up and left him in the woods.”
“To starve to death?”
“Nay. I likely should have, but I’m nae a monster. So, do ye wish me to accompany ye?”
She nibbled her lip, pulled her hair back, rolled up her sleeves, and stripped off the apron she wore. The motion made her loose tunic slip slightly off her right shoulder, just enough forme to see the top of what looked like a star formed by freckles. My pulse jumped. This was my woman.
“Bite down,” she said instead of answering my question.
The moment my teeth clamped onto the stick, she poured the liquid over me. My body tensed, my heart galloped, and fire ate at my side, but I didn’t move, save for the flare of my nostrils and the fast pulse at my neck. I was being judged, and I had to come out acceptable. I knew there was no way our journey to the king would go peacefully the entire way. There would come a time when the lass would realize I was not taking her to the Dark Woods, but the later that time came, the better.
My blood was roaring in my ears and scorching through my veins as she said, “Ye’ll do. I’d like to leave at dawn.”
I cleared my throat, which had tightened with the pain. “I’d prefer we leave tonight.”
She frowned. “I thought ye said ye left the other man tied up in the woods. Do ye fear he’ll come for ye?”
“I do nae fear any man, lass. I simply want to return home as soon as possible.”
“Ye have a woman waiting?” Gillie suddenly spoke up.
“Nay,” I shook my head. “I’ve got plans, and I’ve waited long enough to start them. I’m nae getting any younger.”
And then the oddest thing happened. Katreine and Gillie began to laugh. They laughed so long and hard that tears were streaming down both their faces.
Chapter Five – Katreine
“I ken well why ye picked that man to be yer protector,” Gillie said as she stuffed a hunk of coarse oat bread, still faintly warm from the afternoon fire, and two wineskins sharp with the scent of fermented berries into a knapsack, then tied it to my horse. The leather straps groaned as she pulled them tight, the scent of oiled tack mingling with the lingering smoke of peat fires drifting lazily across the encampment.
My gaze went straight to where James stood across from Gillie’s and my tent. The ground beneath his boots was packed firm by many passing feet, and the air carried that faint chill that crept in as the sun began to lose its strength. He had his back to us as he fastened supplies onto a massive black destrier whose dark coat glistened in the last slanting rays of sunlight. The beast shifted restlessly, its breath puffing warm against the cooling air.
My cheeks heated at the reaction my body had to looking at him. He was a powerfully built man, so broad-shouldered that the linen of his shirt pulled slightly across his back as he secured a strap. I had seen many strong men before, yet there was something in the deliberate confidence of his movements that stirred a warmth low in my belly, a warmth that moved lower to my core.
I cleared my throat to answer Gillie. I could feel her watching me, the weight of her gaze as tangible as the cooling breeze brushing my cheek. When I glanced her way, she wore a knowing smirk.
“I picked him because he seems brave, and he does nae have a wife and children.”
“Because ye want him,” Gillie teased.
The heat on my cheeks spread rapidly to my neck. “I do nae want him,” I corrected Gillie.
She snorted softly at that. “’Tis doubtful with an arse like that.”
Before I could stop myself, my gaze flicked toward James again. Gillie had spoken the truth. The man had a good arse, the line of his braes shifting as he moved, with strength evident even in stillness.
“Gillie,” I warned.
“Katreine,” she replied, then tugged me into a hug before stepping back and handing me a ribbon. “For yer hair and to remind ye of us.”
I took the blue ribbon and traced my finger over the yellow stars she’d embroidered there, then swallowed past the lump in my throat.
“Thank ye,” I said, tying the ribbon in my hair and hugging Gillie once more. Her cloak smelled of rosemary and smoke, comforting and achingly familiar. The air between us still held the day’s faint warmth, though the promise of evening coolness pressed at the edges. “I’m going to miss ye,” she whispered as we stood there, clinging to each other.
Her words struck deep. This was the second time in my life I’d had to say goodbye to my family, and both times were the direct result of my foolish wish, so long ago, to be older than my sister. As I held Gillie tightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath, memory rose sharp as the scent of crushed heather beneath our boots.
