Sadly, Timothy was correct. He didn’t, and that was why he always got himself into so much trouble.
As if sensing his gaze, Ciaran looked back, and he dipped his head. Then before Bannon could return the gesture, Ciaran faced forward again and steered past an outcropping.
Ciaran started up another incline. His horse, Horace—Horace the horse. Timothy snorted in his head, and Bannon nearly snickered just as he’d done when Ciaran had said the horse’s name earlier—Horace took the steep slope easily, his huge feet seeming to almost grip the rock. It crunched under him, but Ciaran moved as if he were part of his mount. It was a thing of beauty, watching the powerful chestnut and his strong master work as a team.
Four other MacKay clansmen followed, making it look just as easy. As big as their horses were, it almost defied logic that they were so agile, but their horses never faltered.
Bannon had gotten a horse with less discipline. He had to keep reminding his horse, whose name was Flùr, who was boss.
Flùr kept wanting to gallop.
“Bannon, are you listening?”
What? Bannon dragged his attention back to Louie. Had she said something?
She tsked and rolled her eyes. “I asked what was going on between you and Ciaran.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You glow every time you look at him. And yesterday you looked positively flushed when you came in from killing that pig.”
“Maybe because I just killed a pig?” Bannon grumbled.
“Somehow I don’t believe you.” She arched one delicate brow at him.
Somehow neither do I.
“There is nothing between Ciaran and me.”
“Okay, fine, you don’t have to tell me, but I think you should use caution. You can’t get involved with him.”
“I know that! And I’m not involved.”
Too bad long-distance relationships hardly ever work.
You aren’t helping, Timothy! To Louie, he said, “He’s not at all my type!”
She gave him that look again that said clearer than words that she didn’t believe him. “I’m the only one here to chaperone you and guard your reputation.” She heeled her horse and rode off, going up the slope Ciaran and the four men behind him had just navigated.
Bannon could only stare after her and gawk. Louie was the worst chaperone in the universe. And when did she care about his virtue? This was the woman who made bets with him that he couldn’t get free fruit by flirting with vendors at the market. Shaking his head, Bannon rolled his eyes.
Up ahead, the path made a sharp turn only a yard or so after the trail led upward, but Louie handled it with little effort. She’d always had a good seat. Her horse’s rear end disappeared behind a cliff face and Angus followed her.
When Angus disappeared, Bannon clucked his tongue. “All right, Flùr. No funny business.”
Flùr listened to him and went without a hitch, but his blasted kilt slid up his legs again. How did Ciaran wear these things? With a groan Bannon shoved the plaid back toward his knees and Flùr lurched forward. “Whoa!” Bannon pulled on the reins. “This is no place to gallop.” They went around the turn, and a chuckle sounded behind him.
Bannon peeked over his shoulder as one of the MacKay warriors rounded the bend. He was a big, burly man like the rest of them, with long blond hair and a scruffy beard.
The man grinned at him, showing off a few missing teeth. “Every time ye adjust ye kilt, ye tighten ye knees, lad. Flùr is a warhorse, and she thinks ye want her tae go faster. If ye press with one knee, she’ll turn toward the pressure till ye let up. Ye control with ye legs, not ye hands on the reins.”
“Oh, so I’m the cocklehead.” The idea was intriguing and very convenient. Once they got on flat land, he was going to have to experiment with the whole knee-steering thing.
The warrior chuckled again and rode off.
As Ciaran topped the crest, he slapped a hand to the back of his neck and started glancing around.
Bannon looked too, but all he saw was mountain. They were near the place where Bannon had seen the cave the other night. Where Ochre Nose had planted him a facer and tied him up. For the first time, doubt came over Bannon as he watched Ciaran’s back stiffen.
Ciaran turned his head to the side, his jaw tight. With the sunlight behind him, he looked younger, which was a complete contrast to how he acted. He held himself like a man with