“I beg to differ,” Alana countered. “We would arrive to our destination quicker. A win for both of us. Ye can return to yer home, and I can be left at mine without wasting time traipsing through rough landscape that is proving to be treacherous.”
Rory lifted a brow. “Treacherous? To what do ye refer?”
She paused, holding out her fingers. “Let me count. One,” she held out her thumb. “I fell in the burn.”
“By yer own doing,” he cut in.
Ignoring him, she continued, holding out her index finger. “Two, I nearly tripped o’er that fallen tree.”
He barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. “Lass, that tree was nearly as tall as ye. Ye wouldnae have tripped o’er it. Run into it? Mayhap if ye were walking with yer eyes closed,” he smirked.
Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “I told ye no’ to call me lass. Ye are making this journey harder than it needs to be. On purpose. I am for certs of it. What harm can come of a shortcut?”
“There is uncertainty in taking such measures to save time. Danger lurks in places off the kenned pathways. Bandits roam these parts freely. The less used a path, the more likely they are to attack there.”
“Ye say ye are an expert hiker and tracker. Cannae ye track them so they dinnae attack?”
“I am no’ a seer. I cannae tell the future. The best way to keep ye safe is to stay on weel-kenned roads. As I said, I will ensure yer safety. This is how I plan to do that. Sometimes a shortcut can mean death. That is no’ a chance I am willing to take when I am responsible for getting ye to yer betrothed unharmed.”
As dusk fell, Rory looked for a place to camp for the night. One not far off from the road, but somewhere that offered trees as a canopy in case of rain.
He paused, seeing just the spot. “We will camp here for the night,” he announced. Dropping his sack onto the ground.
Alana looked around in disbelief. “Ye jest.”
Shaking his head, he knelt and opened his pack. “Ye keep accusing me of jesting. If ye kenned me at all, ye would ken that I dinnae jest. ’Twill be dark soon. We cannae go on any further this night. We will sup and sleep and start again in the morn.”
Standing there, Alana made no move as he set about starting a fire. He wasn’t offering her comfort, but he wasn’t a complete arse. He would ensure she was warm through the night, and hopefully dry out her boots, stockings, and skirts. Though her skirts appeared dry enough now, but he was for certs her stockings and boots were still wet.
With the fire built, he brought over two large stones for them to sit upon. “Sit. Ye need sustenance for tomorrow’s hike.” He broke the loaf of bread Tilly had packed in two and offered Alana a half. For a long moment, he didn’t think she would accept, but she finally did, sitting down in a huff as she snatched the bread out of his hand.
He set a skin of ale betwixt them to share and offered her some of the dried meat Tilly had also included.
They ate in silence. Rory watched as the night grew darker, and the shadows of the flames played across Alana’s face. He couldn’t deny her beauty. Her future husband would have his hands full with her, but he would always have a bonny face to look upon.
After they’d finished their food, they took care of nature’s call and returned to the fire. He pulled out two plaids and offered her one.
Her gaze dropped from his face to his hands and the plaid he offered and then back to him.
“Ye werenae jesting aboot sleeping on the ground?”
He held his arms out. “I wasnae. Do ye see any villages around? There are none.”
“’Twill be hard and uncomfortable.”
He sighed, tired of her pushback on everything they’d done today. He tossed her a plaid, not caring if she caught it or not, then unfurled his own and laid it out on the ground and settled into it.
“Ye better get used to it then.” Wrapping the wool around himself, he turned on his side, facing the fire and out toward the road, ignoring Alana’s huffing and puffing.
Biting back a chuckle when she finally snatched up the plaid and wrapped herself into it.
Och, a spitfire she was indeed.
Chapter Four
Alana awakened witha jerk, groaning at the stiffness in her back, and shivered. She was freezing. Her fingers and toes were numb with cold. Slowly, she sat up, running her hands through her hair, which she had somehow managed to get pine needles and dirt mixed into it.
Lovely.
