Moonstone (8 page)

She came,
a mug of wine already in her hands. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said.

“Make sure she finishes it,” William
ordered.

Rhiannon
glared at the both of them, but it seemed she’d been overruled. They ignored her.

William slipped out from behind her and walked away, looking all too much like the leader he was. She managed a few careful sips of the wine before he was back with a plaid in his hands.

“The cloak she wore last night is too big for her, too cumbersome,” he said. “Wrap her in this instead.” He handed it to Alice. “Connor has one for you as well.”

“Thank you, my laird.”

Rhiannon finished her drink and let Alice tuck the plaid around her, realizing belatedly that she’d complied with William’s wishes without a second thought.

“What am I doing?”

Alice frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind. Just . . . never mind.”

* * *

Stay awake.

Rhiannon drew up straight in the saddle, attempting to clear the sleep from her head. She cringed when the cut on her side pulled. As always, she was all too aware of William next to her on the dapple-gray stallion his men had taken from Geoffrey. He hadn’t wanted her to ride by herself, but she needed to maintain some dignity. Not that Geoffrey had left her with very much. But she wasn’t so bad off that she was ready to give up trying. 

Jeremiah, t
he mature stallion beneath her, was steady, but stiff. He’d seen his better days pass him by.

Like William’s shoulder.  

She wondered what the two battle-scarred warriors had been through together. William was not much over twenty-five, by her best assumption, yet his mount had to be at least fourteen. And if he’d had the animal most of its life, then William had taken up the sword when he was but a child.

Rhiannon
looked at William in his green plaid, belted at his waist. The excess fabric crossed his torso, then fell over his back in folds. His sword was strapped to his back and his ebony hair fell around his broad shoulders. She remembered the way his smooth hair felt against her face, and the way it smelled. Like the morning air and leather.

A new
beard graced his chiseled jaw. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken a time or two. A hairline scar ran down his right forearm. She shivered and wondered what the scar on his shoulder looked like, and how he’d come by it.

The sun filtered through thin gray clouds
above their heads. Rugged, craggy hills rolled around them. Rhiannon closed her eyes and imagined the lochs and the high-blooming heather of William’s homeland. She pictured the summer gloaming, and the dark winter his land would soon enter.

Then s
he opened her eyes and imagined herself sheltered and safe, like she was before her parents were murdered. Silent tears stung the scratches on her face. Her stomach churned and threatened to heave the wine and oatcakes she’d consumed earlier.

William reined his horse close
r to hers.

“I am fine,” she bit. 

“I shouldna have let you ride alone.” His calm tone made her regret her acidic one. “You must be in pain.”

Rhiannon shrugged. The reins were in her only working hand and she struggled
to wipe her eyes on her shoulder.

“We
will break for camp at nightfall. Why do you not ride with me until then?”

Rhiannon looked at
what little she could see of the sun. It was hours before sunset. She glanced around for Alice and spotted her with Connor, curled up in his arms, asleep. Rhiannon groaned. “Alice is not usually like this.”

William glanced in their direction.
“Connor’s a good man, and he earns a descent living from me. He can afford a wife if he wants one.”

“Wife?
Wonderful.”

“You say it as if ’
tis a crime.”

“For some it is.”

“We’ve all had a lot of excitement, but Connor wouldna use her. I know you feel you have no reason to believe me, but he is the kind of man who stands behind his convictions.”

A
man who stood behind his convictions.

She thought men like that died out when her father was murdered. She looked away, unable to balance
her needs against reality. Just because she was able to acknowledge that she was now under William’s protection didn’t mean she was ready to be pursued by him in any way. 

“I stand by my convictions as well
,” he said. 

“’Tis not as if it matters.”

“I told you, I would never force.”

“You already do.”
Her fingers gripped the reins. “And now I am your property.”

The dapple gray stallion shook out his long mane, metal on the bridle clanking.
“You are my
responsibility
,” he said. “I’ve no desire to own anyone.”    

He might be strong enough to stand by his convictions now, but
what would happen when she began to round out with Geoffrey’s child? Would he dissolve their union? And then what would she do, once she found herself abandoned in a foreign land? Did she have the courage to leave Alice behind with Connor and seek her own way in the Highlands, all by herself?

Nay. Curse me, but I do not
have the courage for that.

She only had two options.

Make William believe that the child was his. He was a smart man, so she would have to consummate their marriage quickly. No doubt he would be more than willing. But she was not.   

Or she could force a miscarriage. She’d heard about herbs that could see the task through.
It was what she’d planned on doing when she and Alice had stolen the horses and run away.

“Alice would
never be far from you.” He continued the previous conversation. “Connor is the captain of my guard, as well as my second cousin.”

Jeremiah
picked his own path over rocky soil while Rhiannon sank into a bog hole of her own making. She would have to take her chances with the herbs. She wondered what it would be like to miscarry. Certainly it could be no more dangerous than what she had already lived through.

“
Lassie.” There William was, smooth as silk. Lacy webs reaching out for her.
Trust me,
they said.

“I do not want to
talk to you.”

“I think we need to.”

“Do you always talk so much?”

He f
lexed his right shoulder, the skin around his eyes tightening.

“What happened
to your arm?”

He took so long to answer that Rhiannon assumed he wouldn’t. A horse snorted from somewhere behind them, and a couple of his men laughed as if one had told an amusing story.

“I was injured in battle,” he said.

“
Bad then?” 

“I almost died.”

The wind picked up and goose bumps broke out over her skin. “Tell me?”

His face changed, became more guarded. “Another time.”

Sensing that she’d accidentally discovered how to shut him up, Rhiannon leaned forward until her face rested on the stallion’s neck, careful to keep her arm from being pinched against the saddle. She closed her eyes and let Jeremiah find his own way.

The rocking motion made her drift.
In her sleep she fell.

And s
he didn’t even care.

“What are you thinking, stubborn
woman? You are in no condition to sit a horse.”

William’s
arms came around her, sliding Rhiannon from her mount and onto his, so that she was cradled in his arms. “
Mo Leannan
.”

She thought no one would call her their
darling
in Gaelic again, but
he
did.

She wanted to feel
the safety of innocence again. Her fingers gripped his sleeve as tears streaked down her face. William called for the men to halt. Rhiannon knew it was because of her. She was finally breaking down.

William
slid off his horse with her in his arms, and set her on her feet. His leather jerkin was smooth under her fingers. His chest was warm and firm. She willed herself to stop weeping, but it didn’t work.

“Alice,”
he called.

A moment later
William relinquished her to Alice, who wrapped her small arms around her. It wasn’t the same though.

“
William, wait.” The words left Rhiannon’s mouth before she’d thought about them. Her hands shook, and she realized just how deeply she longed to feel safe in a man’s arms.

He closed the gap between them,
scooping her up so fast her head spun. “You dinna have to do this in front of an audience.”

“I can stop
crying. I can.” Tears ran, despite her bluff.

He lowered her to her feet
in a copse of windswept oaks.

“’Tis not very private, is it?”
He tried to smile.

“Your men will think m
e the fool.” She shivered against the wind.

He rubbed her
upper arms. “They will think you human.”

“They know
you stole me.”

He
ducked to see her better. “I didna steal you. I fought for you.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, and she decided it was because he didn’t want to tell her.

But s
he already knew what he wanted from her. And it was a part of her that she couldn’t give.

She started to hiccup.

* * *

William
rubbed Rhiannon’s back as she hiccupped. After she stopped, he lowered them both to the ground and sat in the heath with her head on his shoulder. She shivered, and he wrapped the top portion of his plaid around her. Eventually, she fell asleep.

“My laird?” Connor
said. “Should we stay here tonight?”

“This is as good a place as any
. No fire, though.” The light would be too easy to track, and he would rather avoid any confrontations with Geoffrey’s men. Rhiannon and Alice had been through too much as it was.

Alice
came next, walking slowly, as if she didn’t think she belonged there with them. 

“She’s sleeping,” he said,
his gaze still on Rhiannon.

Alice pushed a wooden mug at him. “May I speak with you
, my laird?”

“Aye.” He drank
the cold ale, wishing they were home already.

“I have not seen her trust anyone since her parents . . . well
, the accident. She is confused right now, but she is beginning to trust you. I thought you should know that.”

“I kn
ow. I do.” He was flattered Rhiannon wanted him around at all, even if it was not in the way he wanted her back. William finished his ale and Alice took the cup from his hand.

“
Thank you, my laird, for risking yourself to help her.” She curtsied, then left.

William
rubbed his chin against the top of Rhiannon’s head and wondered what to do with her. He could only help her so much. He wondered if he should take her to his cousin, Triona’s hall, instead of going directly home. Triona would be able to help her in ways he could not.

The more
he thought about it, the better it sounded. Rhiannon would feel the pressure of her station at his home. At his cousin’s, she would be a guest. He wanted Triona and her husband, Ronan, to meet Rhiannon anyway. Not that she was a prize to display, like the perfect wolfhound. But she was beautiful. And something about Rhiannon made William want to be seen with her.   

Connor
was a discreet distance away, Alice wandering in his direction. William caught Connor’s gaze. “Make sure Alice has a bedroll and blankets. She can sleep here with her lady.”

Alice
shook her head. “Nay, you keep her.”

“It will get cold tonight.
The two of you will need to combine body heat.”

“I
daresay you can keep her warmer than I.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged. “As long as I have something to sleep on, and a blanket, I will be fine.”

Connor returned with sheepskins
and Alice took them from his outstretched hands, her smile affectionate.

“I will keep an eye on Alice
, my laird,” Connor said, smiling as if pleased with himself for warranting Alice’s affection in the first place.

William
nodded. At least things were going smoothly for Connor.

He
peeled a lock of hair off Rhiannon’s face. Would she hate him come morning? He knew the answer. “She will kill me.”