“You think so?” he said, sidling forward and pressing her back against the tree.
Her breathing quickened. “I know so.”
“You think I have the look of a man who’s just made love?”
“I think you have the look of a man who’s been doing something that gives him pleasure and dishevels his clothes and makes his long hair need a comb.”
“Perhaps I should cut my hair.”
She reached out and ran her fingers through it, marveling at its thickness. “That would be a pity, my lord.”
“Then you like my hair this way, my lady?” He grinned and brushed it back over his shoulder with his hand. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s how the Scots wear it.”
“Iama Scot,” she replied, loving it when they spoke like this. Did anyone else ever hear that tender, teasing, yet incredibly arousing, tone in his voice?
Would his wife?
She pushed that thought away. “You should braid it at the sides the way Adair Mac Taran does,” she suggested. “I think that would look quite fetching.”
He laughed softly. “Fetching? Why the devil would I want to lookfetching?”
“Because you are,” she pertly answered as she tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. “Very handsome and thus, very fetching.”
“I don’t care what other women think of me.” He put his arms about her waist and drew her close. “Only you. What do you think of me, Riona?”
“That you’re a very vain fellow who blatantly seeks compliments.”
He frowned like a petulant little boy. “And here I thought you liked me.”
“Sir Nicholas of Dunkeathe, if I didn’t care for you a very great deal, I would not have made love with you, now or ever,” she said with mock severity.
His frown dissolved to a wistful expression. “I would give nearly anything…” he began, the words trailing off.
Nearly anything was not everything, and she accepted that. “I think we had best quit dallying underneath this tree, lest we be discovered.”
He nodded, becoming again the resolute, stern overlord. “Will you return first, or should I?”
“I will,” she replied. She kissed him once more lightly on the lips. “Until later,m’eudail,”she whispered before she hurried on her way.
ONCERIONAreached the village, she slowed to a more leisurely pace. Although there were few people about, it not being market day, she didn’t want it to appear that she was running from anything, or anybody.
She strolled toward the stall of the man with the beautiful fabric. The indigo, she noticed, was gone.
“Good day, my lady,” the merchant said, nodding a greeting.
“Did my friend’s cousin buy the blue fabric?” she asked.
“No, it was another lady. Very beautiful she was but…” He gestured for her to come closer to hear. “Losh, my lady, she was the haughtiest Norman you ever did see.”
That had to be Joscelind.
“I’ve got some pretty blue ribbon, my lady. It’d be lovely on you.”
She shook her head. “Not today.” She turned to go and saw the archer in the stocks, head bowed. “How much longer does he have remaining in his punishment?” she paused to ask the merchant.
He thought a moment. “About a fortnight, I reckon.”
“That must seem like an eternity,” she noted before she walked away.
