She produced a thick cord from her bag, and after taking the bundled tent fabric from Egan’s arms, she wrapped it securely and used the last of the cord to fashion a strap she slipped over her shoulder. Then, with the bag containing her belongings gripped firmly in her hand, she quickly surveyed the small tent site to be certain nothing had been left behind.
“Where is your horse, Egan?”
Her gown was a pale gray he had mistaken for a soft blue white inside her tent, and her cloak, while patched, was as rich a dark brown as fertile earth. With her red hair, the color was a glorious accent, but he longed to see her dressed in bright green. He had expected her to be much older, perhaps a frail wisp of a woman he’d have to carry in his arms wherever they went. To find her young and lovely, and yet so distant, had unsettled him completely, but he quickly sought to regain control of their small party.
“If you’ll but follow me, mistress, I’ll take you there.” He considered making her traipse around the long way so she would be too tired to argue, but she had shouldered the tent without a word on its weight, and he knew he ought not to let her carry it.
“I’ll take that,” he offered, and grabbed the rough bundle before she could stop him. Egan led the way to his horse without causing her a single extra step, but he cursed under his breath the whole way.
Chapter Two
Oriana had slipped Egan’s beautiful amethyst into her embroidered pouch, but as they made their way past the village to his horse, she doubted that had been wise. The crystal’s uneven facets would prevent her from using it with her other stones, and it was too large to be fashioned into a piece of jewelry. It would be an attractive keepsake, but she had no idea when she would return home and put it on display.
Suddenly Egan paused in midstride and turned to face her. “I’ve been most inconsiderate,” he announced with sincere regret. “Would you rather return to your home before we leave for mine?”
Appalled that he seemed to have read her mind, Oriana took a quick step backward. “Unlike you, sir, I invite no one to my abode.”
Egan was doubly annoyed that while tardy, his effort at courtesy had been rudely rebuffed. He shrugged in dismay. “I didn’t expect to be entertained. I merely thought you might wish to bring other clothing, or whatever else you might need on our journey.”
Oriana rested her free hand on her hip. “Do you think me so easily fooled? I’ll caution you now that I move often and never return to the same dwelling twice.”
Egan had tethered his horse some distance from the village, but he quickly glanced over the gently undulating fields of oats and barley to make certain they had not been followed from the fair. No one had ducked out of sight as he had turned to face Oriana, and he was convinced they were alone. Still, he took the precaution of lowering his voice.
“We’re sure to have frequent arguments, but I’ll warn you only this once that you may not question my motives in front of others. If you must shriek and spit, you’ll do so in private. Is that understood?”
Out in the open Egan looked even taller and stronger than he had first appeared, and Oriana quickly vowed to behave in a more circumspect manner around him. Or at least she would make that attempt until Duncan was dead, and then she would do as she pleased. She slid her hood back to rest upon her shoulders so he could not mistake her expression, and nodded.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll not shame you in front of your kin. Now, it’s already afternoon. Can we not travel while we argue about whatever other disagreements we might have?”
Had her suggestion not been so reasonable, Egan would have argued with her simply to vent his temper, but forced to agree, he turned without comment and led her along the path toward the forest. He was uncertain how a considerate question could have prompted such an angry response. If Oriana continued to view each of his remarks in the most unflattering light, then he would swiftly stop speaking to her unless absolutely necessary.
Egan had left his stallion grazing in the sweet summer grass, and the ebony animal raised his head to whinny a greeting as they approached. Before Egan could warn Oriana to stand back, she walked up to the magnificent horse, and after caressing his neck lightly, stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. The stallion tossed his finely shaped head and snickered softly, as though he appreciated whatever had been said.
“Raven doesn’t usually take to strangers,” Egan offered as he gathered up his mount’s reins. “But he seems to have enjoyed your secrets.”
“He’s a horse fit for a king,” Oriana replied. “That’s all I told him.”
“Aye, he is that,” Egan agreed with an amused chuckle, and quickly tied Oriana’s bundled tent behind his saddle, where he stored his own belongings. Then he took a long look at her.
“We’ll both ride, but I thought you’d be an old woman who’d weigh no more than a leaf.”
Oriana straightened up proudly. “While I’ll readily admit to weighing more than a sprig of greenery, what makes you think that I’m not the oldest women in the valley?”
Egan’s eyes widened slightly. Oriana had been lovely in her shadowy tent. In sunlight, her flawless skin held a golden blush that was utterly enchanting. “You can’t have seen more than seventeen summers,” he swore.
“The gods do not age,” Oriana reminded him with gentle amusement. “So why should I? Perhaps I have seen several hundred s
ummers. Would that astound you?”
“Yes, it most certainly would.” Egan bent slightly and offered his interlaced fingers as a convenient step for Oriana. “You must regale me with tales of your many years as we travel.”
“I doubt that you’d find my life sufficiently entertaining to remain awake,” Oriana cautioned. Still holding her cumbersome bag, she placed a hand on Egan’s shoulder, stepped first in his hands, and then with an agile leap mounted Raven’s back. The horse shook his flowing mane, then turned to look at his master. Oriana gave the horse a reassuring pat on his elegantly arched neck.
“Raven’s in as great a hurry as we are, Egan. Let’s be on our way.”
“I’ve no reason to tarry, but every champion needs a sword.” Without further explanation Egan strode into the trees. Before the wait became uncomfortably long, he returned with a broadsword slung from a leather belt worn low on his hips. The sword’s copper hilt caught the sunlight to reveal an incised design of interlocking circles.
Egan had also retrieved his bow and quiver of arrows. He slipped them over his shoulder before looking up at Oriana. He had meant for her to ride behind him, but she had made herself comfortable in the saddle as though she were the one who belonged there. He was about to complain when he realized she had unwittingly placed herself in his arms, where he could conveniently place one hand over her mouth if need be. Cheered by that thought, he swung himself up behind her. After sliding his right arm around her waist, he held Raven’s reins in his left hand and urged the horse west, toward his home.