And then there was the death of his brother. His family clearly blamed her clan for the attack, even though Moira could say with certainty that it wasn’t them. But years of believing something didn’t just disappear overnight. If that was what he truly believed, then it was his right to harbor such angry feelings toward her.
Yet, Errol had been naught but kind and gentlemanlike. Even at the start of their journey when he was grumpy because he didn’t want to assist, he still made sure she was safe and taken care of. He’d kept to himself, erecting walls to keep her out, but slowly, he’d been letting them down.
Yestereve, in the cave, those walls had crumbled. She got a glimpse of his soft, caring side.
And she liked it. A lot. He was endearing and thoughtful. And chivalrous. He had saved her from falling onto the rocks whilst they climbed. If she had slipped it surely would have meant her death.
But as they supped, she saw those walls building up again. She didn’t understand why. He’d shut down almost all of their conversations, telling her to finish her meal so they could return to the inn and rest afore continuing on.
The door opened and Errol walked in, his arms stacked with folded throws.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, sitting up straighter on the bed.
He gave her a droll look. “Making the floor a wee more comfortable to sleep on.”
“Errol.” She rolled her eyes. “Dinnae be ridiculous. Ye can sleep in the bed.”
“Absolutely no’.”
By the stubborn set of his jaw, she could tell that there was no way to sway Errol’s mind. Instead of trying to fight with him about it or convince him otherwise, she went to him and picked up a throw.
Unfolding it, she shook it out to lay it flat on the floor. Errol helped by snatching the opposite corners, making it easier to spread. Then they did the same for the next one. Grabbing a pillow off the bed, Moira added it to the makeshift pile.
“It doesnae look verra comfortable.”
“’Twill be fine. I have slept on worst.”
“The bed is plenty big. We wouldnae e’en touch each other if ye slept there.”
“I willnae. The bed is yers.” He ran his hands along his scalp. “’Tis no’ up for discussion.”
When she just stood there watching him, he sighed.
“Go to bed, Moira.” His voice was gruff.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her with a lift of his large hand.
“Enough. Go to bed,” he ordered.
Irritated, she spun and sat down on the bed. “If you want me to get ready for bed, ye need to afford me my privacy to do so.” Her voice was snippy and clipped, but she didn’t care.
“Gladly. I shall be outside.”
Moira watched Errol as he shut the door behind him with a slam.
She hadn’t meant for him to leave the room completely. He could have just turned his back. She blew out an exasperated breath and fell back on the bed, covering her eyes with her arm. She would never understand men. After this trip, she didn’t plan to even try any more. It was a useless feat truth be told.
A knock sounded and she heard Errol through the door ask if she was ready.
“I havenae e’en started,” she answered back.
“Then ye should make haste.”
“Mayhap ye shouldnae tell me what to do,” she countered.
“Or mayhap, if ye dinnae finish up in three minutes, I will just walk into the room anyhow.”
She sucked in her breath. He wouldn’t dare. Would he?
