A shiver went through her as she remembered Irene MacAskill’s words. Anna had no idea what she’d been blathering about, but she had the oddest feeling that perhaps her meeting with Emeric wasn’t an accident at all.
She pushed the thought away. Luck, or providence, or whatever it was that had made her cross paths with Emeric today, she was grateful for it.
He was wearing some very strange gear, she noticed as she studied him. Rather than the outdoor clothing she might expect, he had a baggy tartan plaid wrapped over the linen shirt. It only hung to his knees, giving her a nice glimpse of his thighs whenever he moved. There was a largebow and a holder full of arrows strapped to the saddle as well.
Had he been out practicing archery? Hunting maybe? Wasn’t that the kind of thing these rich landowners did? She’d heard of grouse hunting up here but as far as she knew that was done with guns and Landrovers, not horses and arrows.
This was all very strange. But after the day she’d had, strange was just fine, as long as it led to a warm bath and maybe a dram of whisky or two.
And besides, now that she’d run into Emeric, things were definitely looking up.
Chapter 6
Emeric did his best to choose the easiest route out of the bog, trying to keep to the ground where Plover’s hooves wouldn’t sink too far under the weight of his unexpected passenger. It was hard going, not least because he kept being distracted by thoughts of that unexpected passenger.
What was Anna Webster doing here? It made no sense. Only a few hours ago he’d been riding home, enjoying the peace and solitude. Then, with the force of a thunderclap, everything had been turned on its head. Firstly, he’d had a confusing conversation with Irene MacAskill and then he’d rescued a twenty-first century woman from a bog.
And not just any woman either, but Anna Webster, a woman who had haunted his dreams for the past several weeks, ever since he’d met her in the future when he’d attended his sword-brother, Oskar’s, wedding.
He glanced over at Anna. Even through the mud and grime, she was as beautiful as he remembered. Deliciously curvy, with bright, intelligent eyes. They’d spent only one evening together, but that brief interaction had left a lasting impression. She was outgoing, brash and unashamedly flirtatious, more full of life than any woman he’d ever met. Oh aye, she’d left an impression on him all right.
But what was she doing here? And, more to the point,howhad she gotten here?
Ye think ye can keep these hearts separate, live two lives in one. But ye canna. One will come who will show ye that.
Could Anna be the ‘one’ Irene had been referring to? Surely not. This had to be coincidence. Right?
He glanced at her again. She was clinging tightly to the saddle horn, looking around with interest as they moved. Her gaze seemed to miss nothing, taking in the details of the terrain and storing it away. She didn’t seem afraid. In fact, she hadn’t seemed afraid at all, even when stuck in that bog. She’d seemed more annoyed than anything, as if outraged that it had dared get in her way.
She looked at him suddenly. “What?” she asked, examining herself. “What is it? I haven’t gotten something in my hair have I?”
She had, actually. Bits of mud, twigs, and leaves, but it did nothing to detract from her attractiveness. In fact, it enhanced it.
“Well, let’s just say a bath might be in order when we get to Dun Achmore.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering to scrub my back?”
“That’s not what I meant! I meant...I meant...” Damn it! He should have remembered how she managed to tie his tongue in knots!
She gave a wicked little laugh. “Oh, relax. I know what you meant. And quite honestly, I’d sell one of my kidneys for a hot bath right now.”
