Page 12 of The Daughters of Avalon
It did not escapeMalcom that she’d yet to ask him to put her down… and regardless, it was past time to discover who she was, and more importantly, her destination.
North was not enough to go by, and as much as he was warming to the notion of taking her all the way to Aldergh, it was also past time for Merry Bells to rest. He’d been watching the horse closely for signs of exhaustion. But strangely, he suspected the mare was championing Elspeth as he was, putting as much distance between her and her pursuers as possible. But how much sense did that make? As much as he liked to think Merry his companion and friend, she was only a simple beast who rested when she must, ate when she must, slept when she must. And subsequently, only a cruel master would push her beyond her endurance. Therefore, as much as he relished the notion of spiriting the lass all the way home, it was past time to discover who she was.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she returned her head to his shoulder, and he shut his mouth again, because the gesture inexplicably pleased him.
He couldn’t deny that he was drawn to her in ways he hadn’t been drawn to any woman in far too long, and yet, he felt an obligation to keep her safe, even from himself.
Was this what his father had felt for Page?
God’s truth; he didn’t know the girl. How could he feel anything for her at all?
“Elspeth,” he prompted, and then, because she didn’t seem to hear him, he nudged her awake. “Elspeth?”
She straightened, but didn’t respond, and Malcom thought perhaps she must have fallen asleep again, so he gave her a moment to regain her bearings, and said, louder, “Elspeth.” Her head bounced off his shoulder, and he tried not to laugh. Reaching up to wipe the smile from his lips, he said, “Now that Wales is behind us, it occurs to me that you should know I mean to ride all the way to Northumbria.”
She swiveled to glare at him. “I knew it!” she said. “Youarea reaver!” And then she leaned forward as far as she dared, so that Malcom couldn’t possibly touch her—which was entirely ludicrous, because her arse was nestled sweetly between his thighs.
And nevertheless, her reaction vexed him. Whilst so many of the northern lords were fickle in their loyalties, seizing opportunities where they may, he’d never once even considered raiding north or south. “I am no reaver,” he maintained. “I am Malcom Scott, rightful Earl of Aldergh.”
“Aye, well,” she said stiffly, quite sourly. “I am quite certain you won your title byhonorablemeans.”
Malcom’s good humor came to an abrupt end, for nay, he had not. As far as he knew, it was quite the opposite of honorable to sink a blade into one’s kinsman’s heart, and despite this fact, that detail was none of her concern—neither was his worth as an Earl. “God’s love, woman. Must everything be a quarrel?”
Malcom shook his head, tugging the reins, urging Merry Bells to a halt. He’d had more than enough of the girl’s temper. Whatever bond he felt to the lass, she obviously did not share it, and he wasn’t a glutton for punishment. She was out of danger now; it was time to put her off.
“What are you doing?”
“Considering the wisdom in leaving an impertinent lass on lands belonging to a man I detest. Perhaps a good, long walk will settle your ire.”
She stiffened, and he heard her swallow. “I-uh… I’m sorry,” she said. “Tis been a while since I have conversed with anyone save my sisters.”
Malcom’s tone no longer held any trace of amusement. “You mean the four sisters you left behind at the priory?”
“Aye.”
“And did you speak to them so rudely?”
“Nay.”
“Well, then, lady, allow me to enlighten you. When one is asked a question, the proper response is not to answer with another question—or worse, with rudeness. The proper response is to answer politely.”
She answered now with silence and Malcom sensed she must be warring with her pride—something she had in abundance. No doubt, she longed to gnash her teeth at him, but she couldn’t argue with his logic, and neither had he impugned her, save to say she was rude. And, by God, she was. Her chin lifted, but slightly. “So, my Lord Aldergh… what is the proper response if a stranger intends to pry? I was taught it was bad form to ask a lady intrusive questions, and therefore how shouldoneanswer rudeness but with rudeness?”
Malcom blinked. She was right, of course. Given normal circumstances, he’d never have approached her, even to ask her name, much less more personal questions. And nevertheless, these were not normal circumstances and he couldn’t let it go. “My lady,I do believe we ceased to bestrangeafter hearing you snore.”
She stiffened, and despite his pique, Malcom felt the urge to laugh. God’s teeth, what was it about the lass that called to his better nature? Certainly not her temper.
“You are the one who is rude,” she said, sounding injured, and Malcom felt contrite, though try as he might, he couldn’t quite keep the quake from his shoulders, and she turned to cast him another evil-eyed glare.
“Dear lady, I am… not… laughing… at you,” he reassured. “I am simply… overcome… by… your… mettle. Where I come from, ’tis precisely the way a woman ought to be—fearless. Only, tell me, despite your attempted thievery of my property, have I yet to treat you dishonorably?”
Her answer was given ruefully. “Nay.”
“Why, then, do you persist upon despising me?”
“I do not,” she confessed.
“Art certain?”
