Tempest Heart - Paula Quinn Page 0,12
you.”
He wanted to laugh with her but what the hell was he doing? He was only supposed to keep her with him until she died. But she lived, and she was invading his soul, saturating him like a plague of her own. He was going down fast. He slid her a slanted glance. “Ye will owe me.” He held up his index finger and she laughed.
She laughed too easily. She was too pleasing on his eyes when she tilted her head back just a little, sweeping her loose, glossy locks over her shoulders.
“I do not care what others say of you, Tristan, I think you are very sweet.”
“Ugh,” he groaned. He was doomed. His reputation could never survive her.
She laughed a little more, making his belly feel odd. “I promise not to tell anyone else.” She leaned in closer to him from her saddle. Her laughter faded into a tender smile. “’Twill be our secret.”
She felt too comfortable already, like a glove he’d worn for a long time. There was no place in his life for a lass. He traveled often. Why in damnation was he thinking like this? Like she could come to mean something to him. He’d never allowed it before. Not after he fought King David’s wars and couldn’t stop killing when he returned home. He’d trained himself to be unemotional and unsympathetic as he rode through villages, towns, and cities. He always found his targets, no matter what it took, no matter who he had to use to do it.
He was too hard, too old and derisive for her. Inevitably, he would hurt her delicate heart. And he didn’t want to do that. Not to her.
“Mayhap…” was this what he truly wanted?
“Aye?” she asked—or perhaps it was a bird in the trees.
“Mayhap I can find ye a carriage goin’ to Dumfries. Ye would be more comf—”
“You will do anything to be away from me!” she accused him, bringing her hand to her mouth.
“Nae. Now Rose, I willna have ye angry with me fer tryin’ to save us both the heartbreak of comin’ to care fer each other. I am no good fer ye. No good at all.”
“Are you quite done?” she asked, moving her horse to stand in front of his, stopping his advance. “Do you know what awaits me when I go home? Walls. A few people who care for me, and some who resent me for the way they must live. So, if I want to entertain myself with you, I will.”
“Entertain yerself?”
She nodded. “My cousin, Emma, said that is what young, virile men are for. If they are handsome, I should consider myself fortunate. Well, I consider myself very fortunate, so cease being so serious.”
He supposed Emma was correct. Young men didn’t usually want to marry.
“I will be twenty-nine soon.”
“Good for you.” She blinked. “Are you telling me this for a reason?”
“What kind of reason?’
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “Why did you tell me your age?”
“I wanted ye to know I’m not too young.”
“Not too young for what?”
He dipped his chin and stared at her from beneath his raven brows. If she wanted to be bold, he would be bold right back. “Fer ye.”
Her huge eyes grew bigger, rounder. “Me?”
“Aye. If I were to allow myself such feelin’s, which I willna.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “Enough questions. Keep movin’ before we are too late and the inn is closed.”
Worry passed across her eyes and he felt guilty for bringing it up, but many inns closed at sunset, which came quickly now that the days were beginning to grow shorter.
“You are right,” she said, moving her horse aside and letting him pass. “But just to ease your worries,” she called to his back, “you are perfect.”
He paused and turned to her. “I’m not worried, Rose.”
“Oh, forgive me then. I’m inexperienced at understanding other people’s behaviors.”
He smiled a little. “That is a good thing. Ye are more genuine than anyone I know.”
She grinned at him. “And so are you.”
He kicked his mount to ride faster and took off. He was pleased to find her keeping up or not far behind.
They reached a small cathedral town a few hours later. Tristan had been here quietly once before to buy some water but, this time, he wore his kerchief around his face. He made sure Rose had a mask to cover her face, made by him tearing a piece of wool from her mantle.
“Do we have to wear them?”
“Aye,” Tristan lied. According to Lily,