• • •
Jeanne had tried to put Eric from her mind. Tried to ignore his presence. But when he touched her, by the saints, it set her heart pounding and her whole body buzzed with a frenzy of excitement.
Staring at his back, she lifted a hand to her cheek, hot again with the thought of his hands upon her as she’d mounted her horse, though that had been many hours past. And when he’d carried her to the stream this morning to plunge her burning fingers into the icy waters, it had taken all her strength not to fasten her mouth upon his and claim him for her own.
Only he wasn’t her own, a fact he had made abundantly clear to her.
Truly, she suspected she was losing what few wits she had left. To harbor such feelings for the man who’d rejected her was the height of foolishness.
And yet, what she wouldn’t give to hear him speak her name.
“Stay close and keep a wary eye.”
His voice was so low, she thought for a moment she’d imagined him speaking.
“There’s someone on the trail, coming toward us.”
In almost two full days of travel this was the first person they’d seen and, from Eric’s tone, it sounded as though he was none too pleased.
Jeanne craned her neck to see around her companion, spotting the figure ahead, arm raised in greeting.
“He looks to be friendly enough,” she offered. “And much smaller than you.”
“Aye. Mayhap he’s also bait to draw us into a trap.”
Eric drew up on his horse’s reins, dropping back beside her, surprising her when he touched her hand. He surprised her even more when she saw that he held a wicked-looking dagger in the hand that lay over hers.
“Take this.” He pulled the hem of her cloak over her hand, concealing the weapon. “Keep it at the ready.”
“Surely yer being overly cautious,” she scoffed.
“Better overly cautious than overly dead,” he responded darkly, returning to his spot ahead of her. “If the need arises, head for the woods. You’ll be harder to find there.”
Fear knotted in Jeanne’s stomach. Not until they drew close enough to see the traveler’s face did she relax.
“He’s naught but a lad,” she said.
“A weapon’s no particular about the age of the one who wields it. Stay on yer guard, Jeanne.”
Eric could well be right, but the boy looked harmless enough to her. Harmless and cold dressed in those thin clothes, with not even a fur to protect him.
“Aho,” the boy called out with a grin as they reached him. “A fair gift it is to see fellow travelers on the road! I’m Dobbie Caskie.” The boy lifted a hand in greeting toward Eric.
Eric simply stared at the boy until he let the hand drop back to his side.
“I dinna suppose you’d consider sharing yer fire and an extra portion of food this night?” The boy licked his lips, his eyes darting from Eric to Jeanne and back again.
“No,” Eric answered.
“We most certainly would,” Jeanne corrected, ignoring Eric’s head snapping around in her direction.
The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen, and he looked to be freezing out here all by himself. Sharing their fire and food for the evening was the least they could do to help him.
“Thank you, my lady. It’s no charity I’m asking. I’m willing to work for it. I can help set up yer camp and gather wood for you. Whatever you need.”