Page 11 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

That brought an unexpected burst of laughter. “Ye’re a minx, Dahlia MacLeod and there’s nay doubting it.” He shook his head and she caught a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

The landlord provided a repast of nettle soup, cheese and buttered oat-bread which they washed down with a tankard of ale.

Arran rose to his feet. “’Tis time fer us tae be on the road.”

His moment of good humor had fled, replaced by a gruffness that made her wonder why it now seemed he was going out of his way to be cold and distant. Last night he’d been kind, and she’d garnered the belief that he shared her feelings about Laird Mackinnon. Now he seemed hell-bent on getting to their destination with all speed and the devil take her feelings in the matter.

Their horses were at the drinking trough being tended by a small boy, perhaps no more than nine or ten years of age. When they walked over the lad held out the reins to Arran.

“Ye’ve very fine horses, melord.”

Arran smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. “Did ye take care of our steeds while we were away?”

The boy nodded. “I let them drink their fill, I gave them hay and a brush-down. Now they are having another drink before ye ride away again.”

He tossed the lad a coin. “Here’s something fer yer trouble, lad. Ye’re a good stable-boy.”

“Thank ye, melord.” The boy gave a deep bow to Arran. “I hope one day tae be a groom like me faither.”

Arran chuckled as he assisted Dahlia into the saddle.

“And I’ve nae doubt ye’ll make yer faither right proud of ye.”

The boy’s face was glowing with pride as they rode out of the cobbled inn-yard and Dahlia marveled at the warmth and kindness Arran had displayed. Mayhap it was only in her presence he was as cold as winter snow.

As they rode on Dahlia decided to put her theory to the test.

“’Tis a fine sunny day now, Mackinnon. I was afeared it may rain but the weather looks right bonny.” She kept her voice light and pasted a smile on her face, venturing a glance at him as he rode beside her.

It came as no surprise when he kept his eyes straight ahead and made no comment in response.

“Did ye nae hear me?”

Again, there was no response except that he seemed to set his jaw a little tighter.

“Have ye all of a sudden lost yer hearing, or d’ye nae wish tae speak with me?”

Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, he gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “Aye. The sun is shining.”

She made another attempt. “Will we be riding fer many more hours? Me rump is feeling the worse fer our two days of riding and I would welcome a rest.”

He huffed loudly at that. “Apologies for the delicate nature of melady’s derrière. Nae doubt it is more used tae being seated in a plush chair by the fireside while ye toil at yer embroidery, eating sweetmeats all day.”

Now it was Dahlia’s turn to huff. “What would ye ken about how a lady spends her time? Ye’re nothing but a rough oaf.” She tossed her head. “I’ve spent days in the saddle following paths through the glens and mountains on the Isle of Skye.”

He let fly with a loud guffaw. “On yer sweet mare who never gallops or trots but walks at a demure pace to make sure ye’re rear-end never receives a jolting.”

Her face flushed with a fearsome heat. How dare he insult her like that? “I’ll have ye ken that me braithers made sure I could ride hard and fast. When I was nay more than a wee girl, I rode with them across the crags and hillsides.” She glared at him but, if anything, he seemed amused to have aroused her ire. “And, as fer riding a sedate mare ye ken naught. I’ve won many a race against me braithers on me hardy mountain pony jolting and dancing over the rocky terrain.”

Subsiding into silence, bringing her indignant breathing under control, she cursed herself for letting the man’s rudeness get under her skin. Her thoughts circled back to the carefree days with her brothers while her mother and father still lived. Back then, the world was a friendly place where she’d rarely heard the name “Mackinnon”. Tears burned behind her eyes. She turned her head away so he could not see the emotions he’d awakened in her.

Yet, perhaps he did have feelings after all, for a short while later, when they came to a small village that was scarcely more than half a dozen tiny cottages huddled together at the edge of a woodland, he pulled up their horses.

“If ye dismount and give that lovely round backside of yers some respite, mayhap there’ll be something here that can quench yer thirst.”

He slid off his horse and raised a hand to assist her.

“Thank ye,” she said, surprised at his sudden kind gesture. His grip on her hand was gentle and once her feet touched ground, he retained it for a moment longer than was necessary. At the touch of his hand and his closeness, she met his hazel eyes with her own and something flickered between them that belied the earlier vexing remarks they’d made to each other.

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