Warrior's Last Gift(9)

            “By all that’s holy!” Eric was on his feet and at her side in an instant. “What were you thinking, woman? You’ve burned yerself for sure.”

            “It’s nothing,” she muttered, lifting the injured fingers to her lips.

            Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her from her feet and carried her the short distance to the stream, forcing her hand into the icy water despite her protests.

            As he held her close, the dizzying scent of herbs filled his nose, and memories washed over him. How often had he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body to his? So many times, yet not nearly enough.

            Their eyes locked and her lips parted in a breathy little sound, as her tongue darted nervously over her soft, full lips.

            “My porridge will burn,” she whispered, breaking the spell he felt had taken him.

            “Better yer porridge than yer flesh,” he managed, releasing his hold on her.

            She hurried away from him and he leaned down, lifting the cold water with trembling hands to splash over his face. Damn him for the fool he was. Even after all she’d done, he wanted her still.

            He dragged the edge of his plaid across his eyes and rose to his feet, his feelings pushed back into the depths of his soul, where they belonged.

            What had passed between them just now meant nothing. It had been only a momentary weakness, brought on by his exhaustion and having her so close to him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. From now on, he’d keep his hands to himself and the Fates could deal with Jeanne.

            “Best you get that food served up so we can be on our way. We’ve another long day ahead of us. Unless . . .” He turned to fix her with a stare. “If you’ll but admit the folly of yer quest, you could be in yer own bed at Castle MacGahan this very night.”

            The scathing look Jeanne cast his direction was all the answer he needed. Not that he’d truly expected her to change her mind now. Not after the punishment she’d taken without protest yesterday.

            Wordlessly, she broke a chunk of bread from the loaf she held and handed it to him before setting the pot of porridge between them.

            They ate in silence, giving his mind too much rein to wander through memories of past meals they’d shared. Memories of the banter, the laughter, the love he was so sure he’d seen in her eyes.

            “Fool,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the remains of his bread into the trees as he stood.

            “Pardon?” She looked up, startled, as if her thoughts had been as far away as his.

            “We’re wasting light,” he grumbled, more bothered than he wanted to admit by the memories swarming thickly around his head. Memories he’d thought buried and gone after all this time.

            She followed his lead and began clearing the remains of their camp. In a short time, they were packed up and ready to be on their way once again.

            Jeanne stood beside her mount, hands clenching her reins, her chin lifted in resolve like a warrior preparing for her first battle.

            Eric’s resolve to keep his hands to himself melted as if he’d never made the vow and he strode to her side to grasp her waist and lift her to her saddle.

            Her breath caught in a little gasp, a sound he remembered all too well. A sound that filled his traitorous body with need and wanting.

            He jerked his hands away the moment she was in her saddle and returned to his mount.

            If he couldn’t convince her to abandon her foolish quest, he had no choice but to get her to the sea and back home again in what was shaping up to be the hardest journey of his life.