Chapter 12

Oh, and what was he going to do, kiss and tickle her to death? A pussycat like him? Excuse her while she trembled in her boots. Of course, the actual devil was clever. Far cleverer than she gave credit for, despite having lived in hell herself for years. She should have known she would be outwitted. An empty soul was worthless.

To arrange for it to be filled first though so she was waylaid from her choice? That was masterful. Well, her soul wasn't just empty, when she thought of Arland, of Ardene begging her help the other week for the first time ever, it was perished. Not so she didn't see she wasn't a very good person. That was true. Just so she had no other choice here right now,but to go on.

Life was a series of steps to a particular destination. She was happy with the ones she was taking.

End of.And she could, she would strike some sort of bargain with her father about some of this. Information at a price.

"My lady. My lady, wait."

Hearing a voice behind her, Kara sucked a breath. Now what?

"Are ye all right?"

In no way but she couldn't very well say so. Because now, now that damned nag of Kertyn's—the couthiest in her father's stables, if the old bastard was to be believed—had clopped into the yard. Kara, after falling off it twice yesterday, once right under his nose, was going to have to get back on it. She'd no idea how. Not when her lurching heart seemed to play havoc with her stomach. Only that she'd have to.

"But of course."

And where the devil was the Wolf? Off planning what to show her next? Dog? Daughter? Was there anything left? She swallowed the constriction that barred her throat.

"I'm just desperately eager now to meet my betrothed as I'm sure you can imagine. Is it far?"

Christ she hoped so even as she hoped not.

"No' the hurry Callm seems in. Here, take this. He won't think of it. He never does. He'll ride all day on nothing, like he's driven to it, the way he aye does. The glen aye comes first with him."

"What is it?"

"Shh. Don't let him see. He doesn't like fuss."

And Meg thought what? That Kara did? She had heard so much about this man. That the slopes of the pass were littered with the bones of those whose throats he'd cut, that his rage when Morven was murdered knew no bounds. Please God, don't tell her he cared even less about things than she did. About himself anyway. The rough cloth that Meg slipped her certainly said so. Oat bannocks, still warm--although frost nipped the air--and lumps of cheese.

Her sideways gaze was arrested by the sight of him leading his black stallion out of the stables. That he didn't care about himself might also explain why he disdained to dress properly for the weather. Arm himself to his proverbial teeth, broadswords on his back, two of them, targe slung over his shoulder? Yes. But warmly dressed? No.

"Is he expecting trouble?"

"He has a name, Princess." He glowered as he straightened the skulls beading the stallion's mane. "And if I get any, you can rest assured I will meet it too. Now you wanted to go, so perhaps you can stop standing about here?"

"Don't mind him." Meg's fingers closed on Kara's."He is just looking out for ye."

"Well, you could most certainly have fooled me. Anyone would think I was that trouble."

"I don't know what kind of a welcome ye have had—"

"Oh, I think as we've seen, not everyone wants me here—"

"While that is true, feelings still run high over certain things, and we're not quite at the peace so many of us pray for, Callm won't let any harm come to ye, whether he wants that peace or not."

Kara averted her gaze. She was certain she was the trouble. But if Meg was telling her, that in addition to him, there was a queue a glen long of others, people who were hiding behind tree trunks waiting to kill her, because of whose daughter she was, well, maybe she had this wrong.

"Heartening to know."

"It is, my lady. Whatever he did yesterday, he'll have sworn by the laws he upholds, to protect ye and see ye safe to McDunnagh Castle. After all, his fight was never wi you."

Why on earth did he have to be bloody damned honorable? All right, if she were to choose a man, a man who might conceivably protect her, he looked the part, whatever she'd just thought about him being a pussycat.

What else could he show her?

He just had though when he'd be better to throw her to the wolves. McDunnagh Castle?How the hell could she be going to McDunnagh Castle?

"Well."She held up the bannocks. "The sooner the better, eh?"

Anyway, he'd given her an order. It would be a good thing to obey for once, to show him how amenable she was.

All she had to do was grasp the reins, difficult given the size of the nag. She'd forgotten how huge horses were but maybe they got bigger as they grew older? Of course it was Kertyn's nag. Had it been hers it might not have started clopping about the yard even before she fastened her fingers on the leather harness. At least she might have been able to stop it when it did, so she could at least get a foot in the stirrup. Stop it baring its teeth at her too. If this was the couthiest horse her father could provide, what was the most savage like?

If Meg hadn't given her these bannocks perhaps she could get her foot into the stirrup? They were for him too, which was why she wished he wouldn't knit his brows like that as he set his boot in his own stirrup. Lady Kara would be able to ride, wouldn't she, as opposed to spending the morning walking up and down the yard, while he showed every sign of departing? Unlike her.

Yesterday she'd stumbled at this point too before she'd even left her father's castle.It was why his men thought she'd mess this up. It was why she felt obliged to smile nicely in the hope of seeming blasé, especially now that the nag, its head flailing wildly, nickered sideways into the wall. He cocked a sardonic brow.

"I thought you were in a hurry to meet your betrothed?"

"I am. I just need … I just … Just …"

"Go."

Did he mean her? Her scalp prickled as a hand descended on her reins. His.

"I … "

Would he have taken his foot out the stirrup and strode through the snow to tell her to go though, as in leave, just as she finally managed to pull herself flat across the nag's back too?

When she was as hopeless as this and it looked as if she would have to walk with the horse all the way to McDunnagh Castle, hoping it would let her on its back properly eventually?He just might.

Humiliation scorched to her hair roots. She didn't want to look at his face, inches from hers, to see his brow furrowed with irritation. His mastery of the bloody old nag was bad enough.

"Sir … I … I can do it. If you will just give me a moment? This is actually my sister--"

"I don't care whose it is. Get on the bloody thing."

"Obviously. What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"On a creature not even fit for horse meat? I've no idea. Maybe if you stoppedtugging on the reins, put your feet down and then the left one into the stirrup there, I might."

"It is what I have been--"

"Put your feet down now. Maybe you have all day? I don't. Some of us have glen business to attend to. Unless you want me to deliver you to the castle with your derriere in the air like that? Then you'll be meeting your dearly beloved sooner than you think."

She swallowed.She was never going to manage on that horse but if she didn't do what he damn well said, he'd be on her like an avalanche about that.Already he was probably wondering why she couldn't mount a damned old nag that could barely move and was oh so plainly eating out of his hand. Placidly enjoying whatever endearments—probably complaints about her--he whispered in its pricked up ears.

"Very well." She slid back down.

"Now. Take the reins. Gently. Don't tug."

"I think I know how to hold a rein."

"Well, you damn well nearly hauled the nag's teeth out holding this one."

"As I think I just said but perhaps you weren't listening, this isn't my horse. My old faithful was stolen in Edinburgh, just the other week." Feeling his gaze flick her, she hurried on. "But, as you say …All help is welcome."

Gathering herself she reached for the reins. Not too fast. Too fast said she didn't welcome his help. Besides, the egg would be on his face when the nag bridled and knocked him into that wall.

"There." He continued running his palm over the horse's mane. "Now, your foot in the stirrup. Carefully, definitely and without booting the bejesus out her."

While it pained her to speak, she did. "So? That's what I'm doing wrong?"

"It's one thing. How long do you have to hear the rest? Grasp the pommel."

"I'm sorry? The—?"

"The knob there."

"I know what a pommel is."

She reached up.Very well, the egg was on her face. A pussycat indeed. But maybe she should stop taking issue? Maybe she should consider the irony, given what he so eagerly helped her towards?

The thing was you could look at a man. You could find him attractive. You could feel drawn, despite everything you were and he was, to consider what it would be like to have one night with him. Worlds had been ripped apart. Empires destroyed for just such thoughts. Why, if anyone knew that, she did. Wasn't that what had happened with Lachlan? Sort of anyway.

She also knew—she knew now anyway—fires only raged out of control if you let them. Starve them and cold ash resulted. Certainly with a damnable bastardwho was too clever by half.A bastard who was already spoken for. Who had a woman.

Just as she had a son.

A son she was going to get back by fair means or foul.