“Get on,” he whispered.
She hesitated when angry voices wafted through the fog as if ghosts argued. Whether Farlan delayed Broc and his men for the purpose of letting them escape or simply because he did not like the man mattered not at all to Tayg. Once all was settled with the king, Tayg would have to send his thanks to Farlan. But still Cat stood, transfixed by the voices. Nothing would be settled if the lass would not climb up.
“Do you wish to be taken back to Dogface trussed up like a gutted deer?”
She gasped and whipped her head around to look him in the eye. Fear made her eyes bleak, and Tayg found himself wishing to reassure her. Before he could say anything, she took his hand and scrambled up behind the saddle. As quietly as he could, Tayg guided the horse out of the village.
CATRIONA LOOKED BACK over her shoulder, afraid they would be spotted at any moment and Tayg’s harsh words would become a reality. Thankfully the fog remained, obscuring all but the faintest dark outline of the hall.
“Enough! Where is she?” It was Broc’s voice. Thank all the saints that the bard had discovered Broc before Broc had discovered—
The fog parted for a moment. Catriona shrank against Tayg’s sturdy back but could not look away.
’Twas not just Broc who had come after her, but all her brothers! She could not take her eyes from them, but they thankfully had their backs to her. She blinked, willing the fog to cover their escape once more. Suddenly Ailig, her youngest brother, glanced over his shoulder. He seemed to look directly at her, but then he turned away again just as the fog finally obeyed her heartfelt command. She listened for Ailig’s voice, for the sound of pursuers. But there was none.
They made the cover of the forest, and Tayg continued into its dark depths. Catriona noticed that little snow had made it to the ground through the thick pines and the close-growing leafless birches. Their tracks would not be so easily followed here.
Tayg nudged the horse to a swifter gait, and they rode in silence save for the pounding of the horse’s hooves. When they were well away from the village, he allowed the horse to slow and finally to stop.
Catriona needed to walk, needed to rid herself of the nervous energy that had accompanied her sudden awakening and their swift departure.
“Let me down,” she said.
Tayg let her slide down then followed her. “So you heard him?” he asked.
“Aye, though ’twas more than just Broc.”
Tayg’s eyebrows rose, and Catriona nodded.
“’Twas all of them.” She did not tell him of Ailig’s glance. Obviously he had not noticed them, so there was no reason to disturb the bard with the news.
“They know you are with me,” Tayg said.
“How?”
“I heard them talking to Farlan. They know I arrived with a lass, though Farlan assured them you were my true sister. Broc did not believe him, thus the argument.”
“So they suspect, but they do not know for sure.” She paced the trail they had been following. “We must find a place to hide. They are not likely to give up just because we have eluded discovery this time.”
“They will have a bit of scouting to do, for there were few clear tracks to follow in the village, and now we lead them on a merry chase.” He grinned at her. “We will continue this way for a while, then circle round to our true path.”
Catriona looked about her. “What?”
“This way,” he said, pointing in the direction they had been traveling, “lies north. Our path to the king lies south along the river.”
Catriona’s eyebrows drew down over her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
Tayg pulled a carrot from a bag and fed it to the horse. “He is tired.” He grabbed the reins in one hand and her hand in the other and led them down the track.
“Why, bard?”
He continued, practically dragging her along. Catriona trotted to keep up.
“Tayg?” she said, hoping his given name would tease him into speech.
He looked at her. “You wished to see the king. Perhaps I am daft, but I will see you to him.” He cocked a grin at her and broke into a run before Catriona could press him further.
Eventually Tayg turned aside onto a deer trail, and Catriona dropped back to follow him and the horse. She was tired and desperately needed to rest her aching feet.
She followed Tayg and the horse as they descended into a deep ravine along a faint trail. She was grateful Tayg had helped her this morning, though she still did not understand why he had done it. It seemed the perfect opportunity for him to rid himself of her.
She thought back to when he had awakened her. Why hadn’t he just left her there? He’d made it clear he did not wish to travel with her. He’d made it clear she was not a welcome partner. So why had he helped her when ’twas clearly to his benefit to leave her there to face her wretched brothers alone? It made no sense.
“We’ll stop below for a rest and a bit of food,” Tayg said over his shoulder to her.
Her stomach growled, and she realized she was hungry and thirsty. They had not eaten, had not stopped, had barely spoken since they had escaped from the village. He’d stopped her questions, bullied her out of the village, and told her she could ask questions later. Well, it was later now, and she would have some answers. She would know what he was up to, for he was surely up to something.
She glowered at the broad back before her. His glossy brown hair shone in the filtered sunlight. His plaid flapped back and forth, sweeping his well-formed, trews-covered legs in time with his step. But the horse was between them.
She sped up, protecting her face from low branches as she slipped past the horse and made her way to Tayg’s side.
“Why did you help me?” she demanded. “You wanted to take me back to my brothers from the start. Why didn’t you leave me to them now?”
He said nothing, staring straight ahead.
“Bard!” She smacked his arm with her fist to get his attention. “Why would you do such a daft thing?”
He glanced at her, but she could read nothing in his expression. He shrugged and lengthened his stride. Catriona had to jog to keep up with him or chance being overrun by the horse. The trail pitched suddenly downward, and she stepped quickly to the side, letting the horse block her from the object of her rising ire. She followed more slowly, picking her way down the icy slope carefully. She would have an answer. She had too much experience with brothers and their schemes not to recognize the signs. She also had plenty of experience getting her answers from them. Tayg would be no different. ’Twould only require persistence.
A burn came into view, and Tayg bounded the last few feet to its edge, dropping the reins as he went. He knelt by the edge of the water and dipped his face to it. Sitting back on his heels, he turned and glanced at her, his eyes dark and serious.
“Come and drink.”
But Catriona was unable to move. All her anger and frustration drained from her as she watched the glistening droplets that clung to his lips. Every sensation that had coursed through her last night when he kissed her careened through her again, stealing her breath and making her feel uncomfortably warm despite the chill in the December air.
“Cat? Are you not thirsty?”
She nodded and forced her feet to move, though she did not trust her voice. The urgency to get away this morning had pushed the memory from her mind—and her body—which now remembered it vividly! Never before had she felt the liquid heat that had coursed through her. Never before had she had the kind of disturbing, though not distressing, dreams she had experienced last night.
Part of her wanted to experience that wonderful, dazed feeling again, but a sterner part of her said it would be dangerous. Too dangerous to allow that kind of feeling out. Never before had she been so willing to give up control of herself and just be. ’Twould not be prudent to allow herself to fall into that situation again. ’Twas pure folly, but it had been unlike any folly she had ever known before.
She knelt
beside him at the burn and slaked her thirst, but she did not allow herself to look at him.
HOURS LATER, TAYG glanced up at the darkening sky. They needed to find a place to pass the night. They had left the caves behind, and the forest offered little in the way of true shelter from the elements. At least the sky was mostly clear. If it didn’t snow, they would be fine under the open sky. If it did, well, they would manage that if they had to.
A bit of cover would be in order, however, just in case they hadn’t thrown the brothers off as much as he hoped.
Tayg spied a copse of young pine trees, ringed by evergreen shrubbery with long, densely covered branches. He veered off the trail toward it.
“Where are you going?” Catriona asked.
He looked back at her. She stood on the trail, fists on her hips, her mouth drawn down into a most unbecoming frown. She was angry that he would not answer her questions, but he did not know how to answer them. The truth could not be told, even the part he was sure of. He did not wish to get tangled up in lies, so the only thing to do was to avoid answering. Of course the look on her face back at the burn had stopped not only her questions but very nearly his heart. He could have sworn the look was desire, bare and bold. Perhaps it had been, for it reminded him of the look on her face when he had foolishly kissed her the night before. Yet she had quickly mastered that softness.
“We will stop for the night here,” he said, then turned back to the copse.
“Where?” she shouted after him.
Tayg kept going, leaving the horse at the edge and pushing his way into the dense bushes. Once beneath the canopy of spreading branches he discovered exactly what he had hoped was there—a thick cushion of pine straw in a small cleared space. ’Twas a spot the deer most likely used, and while it was not exactly a roof over their heads, it was big enough for the three of them. It would provide cover from the trail and would keep most snow off of them if the weather changed.
“Bard?” Her voice came from outside the copse and carried a slight wobble as if she were afraid. “Bard? Tayg?”
He smiled to himself. Yes, they had cover from the trail. Apparently she couldn’t see him even from a few feet away.
“Tayg!” A note of panic had invaded her voice.
He stepped forward and stuck his hand through the prickly, aromatic foliage.
“Oh!”
She was close. He crooked his finger, beckoning her within. He drew his hand back and parted the branches just enough so he could peer out at her.
“’Tis cozy in here and sheltered from the trail. We dare not make a fire, in case…”
“Aye, in case Broc and the sheep were not fooled by your wee trick?”
He winced at her tone more than at the words. “Would you have preferred I left you there to wait for your brothers to find you?” He grabbed the horse’s reins and forced him to pass through the bushes. The branches snapped back into place, and Tayg was rewarded with her exaggerated huff.
He led the horse to one side and looped the reins over a branch. He lifted the bags from the saddle and dropped them in the middle of the circle, wincing when the drum boomed as the other bags fell on top of it.
“’Tis a fine bard you’ll make if you do not have an instrument to play.”
He glanced back to find her standing inside the shelter with her arms crossed. She had one raven-colored eyebrow raised.
“I am tired. ’Twas a slip. I’m sure the drum is fine.” Just to prove his disguise, he rearranged the bags and slipped the drum free. He ran his hands over the tautly stretched skin as if he knew what he was looking for. There were no obvious holes in it. He could only hope there was not some less obvious problem. Shrugging, he tucked it back into its protective bag.
Catriona still stood, arms crossed, combat in her face. He rose.
“What plagues you, lass?” he asked as he freed the horse from its saddle.
“Me? I have no troubles, other than that I am traveling with a daft man who will not explain himself.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you.”
Catriona stalked over to him and stuck a finger in his chest, her eyes blazing. “Aye, you do. Why did you not take advantage of the situation and rid yourself of me?”
The air crackled between them as they stared at each other, she waiting for his answer, he trying to figure out what answer to give. He saw temper flare in her eyes, and a tiny tremble at the edge of her mouth that betrayed her fear. But fear of what? The lass did not seem to fear much of anything. Him, least of all. He reached forward and ran the backs of his fingers over her soft cheek. The temper faded, and something deeper rose in her gaze.
“I think it was because of this,” he said, dipping his mouth quickly to hers.
Sparks flew through him, and he recognized the truth of his words. Despite her sharp tongue, her kiss was liquid fire, burning through his veins, sweeping reason from his mind.
Cat swayed almost imperceptibly toward him, then quickly seemed to remember herself. She stepped back, her hand to her lips, her eyes wide.
“Do not ever do that again,” she said, though he saw her chin tremble, and he knew well the fire that burned in her eyes, for it burned just as brightly in his belly. She might not want his kisses, but she burned just as much as he did from them.
He grinned at her and gave a little bow. “As you command, my high-and-mighty lady.”
“I am not, nor will I ever be, lady to a bard. Neither will I play your harlot while we travel to the king.”
“You are no harlot, only a difficult, ungrateful woman. Tayg the Bard will not touch you again, of that you can be sure.” As long as he could control his impulses. What had come over him? He did not wish to entangle himself any further with this woman, yet here he had succumbed again to the siren call of her lips. Thank goodness she had regained control of her senses before he had done something truly daft. He gave himself a shake and returned his attention to the horse.
“Make yourself useful,” he said, sounding like Robbie when facing a battle. ’Twas the only way to hide his rising frustration from the disturbing lass. “Find some water for us, then we’ll sup. ’Twill be dark very soon.” When he realized that he had not heard her stir, he glanced over his shoulder. She stood there, back straight, nose in the air, and fury in her eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“I do not take orders like some serving wench.”
He rose and faced her, his own temper rising to match his frustration. “Indeed, you do not.” He took a deep breath and tried to remember she was a lass, not a soldier from the army. “I beg your forgiveness. I have been too long in the company of soldiers.” Surprise shone in her eyes, and he realized he had slipped in his persona again. “’Tis where I learned the battle songs,” he said. To distract her from his words, he flashed his never-fail grin at her and bowed low. “I will make beds for us. Will you fetch some water?”
He leaned down and hooked the strap of his water skin with his fingers, swinging it to her in one smooth motion. She snatched it from the air without ever taking her eyes from his.
“I do not know what you are up to, bard, but do not think you can fool me with your words.”
“If you would rather make our camp, I shall be happy to fetch the water.” He waited for her to decide.
After what seemed hours, she finally let out a growl and a muttered oath, then turned and ducked under the sheltering branches of their hideaway. Tayg turned back to his work, still grinning. She was as prickly as a gorse bush, but there was something underneath that difficult exterior that was in need of a bit of tending. Every once in a while—like when he kissed her—her softer side would reveal itself. Still, she reminded him of the cat-a-mountain in his dream: soft fur, sharp bite. ’Twas one good thing about kissing Cat: she could not offer biting comments when her mouth was so engaged.
He realized suddenly that he no longer thought of her or called her by her given name. Nay, she was Cat to him, and the name fit her well, cla
ws and all. Tayg smiled again and returned to his work.
THEY PASSED AN uneventful evening, with episodes of silence followed by moments of glaring, followed by Cat’s studied disinterest. When they finally lay down on their separate pallets, Tayg watched her rigid back, limned by the faint moonlight, until, after a long while, she relaxed and her breathing became slow and even. He was going to have to do something about his growing attraction to her, and soon. It made no sense that he should be attracted to her. She was trouble, and he had enough of that in his life.
He flopped over on his other side so he could not see the gentle slope of Cat’s hip in the wan moonlight. Nay, he would not allow himself to succumb to the temptation of her lips again. No matter what else happened, he knew this was not a woman he wished to wed, and kissing would lead to other, more intimate acts. Then, when she found out his true identity, she could use that shared intimacy to solve her problem. She had heard the songs and tales. According to his mum, every lass who had ever heard them wanted him for a husband. She was no different. She was trouble, and he had to get her to the king. Quickly.
He flopped back the other way, but squeezed his eyes shut so he would not see her ebon hair. Behind his lids her image floated, soft, beckoning him. Tayg groaned and struggled to remember his duty.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAYG AWOKE WITH a start. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, then slowly he focused on the snow-flecked greenery over his head and the warm, softly snoring woman nestled in his arms. He rubbed his cheek against her hair and inhaled the scent of sleepy Cat…
Cat? In his arms!
Catriona slept, her softly rounded bottom nestled into his lap, her stomach slowly rising and falling under his hand. He jerked his hand away and rolled away from her onto his back.
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