Page 44 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 13
Temair didn’t dare flinch. Or blink. Or move a muscle.
She kept her gaze trained with forced nonchalance on the bold English knight, as if she had no idea he was here forher.
But she could barely breathe. Her heart was pounding. And her brain whirled with chaotic emotions.
The rest of the woodkerns had fallen silent. If someone didn’t say something soon, he’d suspect they had something to hide.
Old Sorcha found her voice first. “Ye mean theclannchieftain’s daughter?”
“Aye.”
“So ye must be Sir Ryland de Ware,” Sorcha said.
“I am.”
Wild thoughts careened around in Temair’s head.
Thiswas her betrothed?
She’d been intrigued by the English knight since they’d met at the stream. Charmed by his laughter, his dancing eyes, his brawny figure, and his delicious mouth, she had to acknowledge he was just the sort of man a lass might wish to marry.
But he was English, the choice of her tyrant father and of the bloody English king. He’d been sent, not to court her, but to claim her. And whilehemight be the sort of man to wed out of duty, she’d be damned if she’d be a political pawn, forced into a marriage of convenience. No matter how handsome he was.
She narrowed her eyes. “Ye say she ran away three days ago?”
“Aye, according to her father.”
“And ye never laid eyes on the lass?” she pressed.
“Nay.”
“The chieftain only said she was small and dark-haired,” Ryland volunteered.
“And wildish,” one of his men added.
Temair frowned. Wildish? Maybe. But nobody would ever call her small. And certainly no one could overlook Temair’s most defining characteristic, the one that had given her her nickname—her unique gray eyes.
But the fact that her father said this small, dark-haired, wildish Temair had run away just three days ago could mean only one thing. He’d hired an imposter.
No one in theclannwould be fooled. Surely they remembered Temair’s gray eyes. But the English knight would never suspect he was wedding a counterfeit bride. And herclannsmenwould be too afraid to tell him.
Temair was glad the lass had run off. But how long would it be before they found her? Or if they didn’t, how long would it be before her father found another imposter? There were plenty of small, dark-haired, wildish lasses to choose from.
Rage filled her so quickly she could hardly speak.
Fortunately, she was saved from having to say anything. With a soft rustle of the bushes, Aife suddenly appeared at the edge of the camp, returning from her day of spying inTuath O’Keeffe.
The knights turned toward the sound.
“Temair?” Ryland asked hopefully.
Aife gave a start, both from being addressed by that name and the fact that there were five strange strapping knights occupying the clearing, all staring at her.
For some reason, the hope in Ryland’s voice aggravated Temair. “Nay, that is not Temair,” she muttered.
Then she suddenly realized that Aife may have news about the imposter.
