Page 29 of Desire's Ransom
She tried to tell herself it was because she was once again returning empty-handed. After days of watching and waiting and stalking travelers, she’d reaped no reward for her efforts.
But she knew it was more than that.
She’d been strangely drawn to the man. Cocksure and clever, amusing and delightful, he was as playful as her hounds and deliciously wicked.
He was also dangerous. He was a foreigner, an invader. As swiftly as he’d stolen the kiss from her, men like him were swooping down upon her land and claiming it for their own.
If she’d forgotten that fact for a moment, the reality had come crashing down when he whipped out his dagger and held it at her throat.
His treachery had been all the more cruel because she’d trusted him. For one brief moment, she’d left herself vulnerable, believing he was a kindred spirit. The fact that he was not—that he was capable of tasting her passion one moment and ending her life in the next—crushed her.
And then he’d yelled across the stream at her, admitting he wouldn’t have done it.
That had simultaneously relieved and infuriated her. She wished now she had called his bluff. Maybe then she wouldn’t be walking away with empty hands and a hollow heart.
Maybe then he would have been forced to dine with the woodkerns…
And stay the night…
And possibly steal away with her in the moonlight to…
“Who do ye suppose they were?” young Fergus asked, interrupting her thoughts. Maelan growled. “More bloody foreigners come to steal our fair isle.”
The others grumbled in agreement. They were as upset as Temair. But their annoyance had everything to do with the fact they hadn’t managed to rob the knights. The small English retinue had probably been carrying a considerable amount of silver.
She wondered where they were headed.
Were they only knights-errant seeking their fortune in the land that would eventually belong to their new king? Or did they have a specific destination in mind? The knight had mentioned that he had business elsewhere. He’d also threatened to return if any of his silver was missing.
She cursed herself now for not taking a coin or two to ensure his return.
And then she cursed herself for having such treasonous thoughts.
These were enemies of Eire. The sooner she forgot about the knight’s warm, sweet, inviting mouth, the better.
It wasn’t until the woodkerns returned to the glade for supper and were settled around the fire, relaying what had happened, that Aife brought up something no one had considered.
“So ye’re sayin’ these men saw your face, Gray?” she asked.
Temair shrugged and ran her fingers through Bran’s fur. “Aye.” She didn’t add that one of the knights had not only seen her face, but kissed her lips. Thankfully, nobody divulged that detail, not even impulsive Fergus. Remembering how she’d humiliated them, she added proudly, “But I doubt they want to see itagain.”
“Still, if they got a good look at ye,” old Sorcha said gravely, eyeing Temair through the flames, “they’ll be able to describe ye.”
Lady Mor gave a little gasp, drawing the attention of Cambeal and Conall. “What if they tell the chieftain they saw ye?”
Temair’s brow creased. She hadn’t considered that. For days now, she’d been fretting over the possibility that her father might send his men to hunt her down. She hadn’t considered that outsiders might inform him that a young woman with peat-black hair and gray eyes was living in the woods.
Cambeal, hoping to allay her fears, argued, “The knights could have been headed anywhere, Gray. There’s no reason to think they’ll cross paths with the chieftain.”
“Besides,” Conall said, “I doubt they’ll be talkin’ much about the lass that tossed one o’ them on his arse.”
The woodkerns chuckled at that.
Conall was probably right. The cocky English knight wouldn’t be keen for anyone to know he’d been bested by a wisp of an Irish lass. The idea made Temair smile.
Until she glanced at Sorcha, who wasn’t sharing in the laughter.
“It might be best if ye lie low for a bit.”
Temair wanted to argue. She’d brought in nothing for the woodkerns in days. It troubled her not to be sharing the burden of providing for the band.
But she supposed Sorcha had a point. Until the English knights passed through the O’Keeffe lands, she couldn’t be sure of her safety.
She cursed under her breath. She hated that her life had been turned upside down, and all because of her father and his wretched scheming.
