She straightened her spine, sitting up straighter in her saddle. “Ye shouldnae have followed me,” she snapped, making no move to slow or stop.
“Ye were foolish to leave. Do ye ken what type of danger ye put yerself in?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he could not help it. Her choice to leave could have brought her great harm.
Her horse stopped and she spun it around to face him. “Ye have no right to tell me what I should or shouldnae be doing, Errol MacLeod. Ye lost that privilege when ye turned me away. Shunned me, in essence.”
“’Twas no’ like that.”
“No? Ye pushed me away. Said I meant naught to ye.”
She swiped at a tear that spilled down her cheek.
He felt like an arse. He was a bastard. What seemed like the right approach when he didn’t ken how it affected her was much easier when he didn’t see her cry. Her tears were like a fist to his gut.
“Will ye stop? Please.”
“I am taking yer advice and attempting to finish this quest so that we may return to our respective homes. Ye said it yerself. ’Tis the only way to move forward,” she said with a sniffle.
“Moira.” His voice was low.
She looked at him, her gaze boring into his. His heart broke at the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
He’d done that to her.
“If ye stop, I can explain.”
A flock of birds took flight, startling them both. His eyes snapped to the area, scanning the thick canopy of trees. He didn’t see aught suspicious and turned his attention back to Moira.
“I beg of ye, Lass. Please.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she slowed her horse. Looking up at the sky, he could see that she was conflicted. Her mare stopped and he stopped Dubh Bàn beside her, dismounting and approaching Moira.
“Have ye been riding all this time or have ye stopped to rest?”
Swinging her leg over she slid down, but when her feet touchedthe ground, her legs gave away.
Quickly, he moved to catch her so she didn’t fall.
“I have got ye,” he said warmly, cradling her to him, reveling in the feel of her in his arms.
She made no move to push him away and he smiled, saying a silent prayer of thanks. If she didn’t pull away, mayhap she was thinking about giving him a chance to explain himself. He was hopeful that she would.
Remaining stiff in his arms, she didn’t say a word.
He didn’t mind. He was content holding her as close as she would allow.
After a few long moments, he looked down at her. “Do ye think ye can stand on yer own?”
Nodding, she peeled away from him and took a step back.
A fallen log provided the perfect place for them to sit and talk and he pointed to it in offering.
Her lips pinched together, she clasped her hand in front of her and made her way to the log, dropping down and taking a seat. Folding her hands in her lap, she waited for him to join her.
When he did, she straightened her legs in front of her, saying naught.
Sitting so close to her, Errol could feel the heat emanating off her body, seeping into his arm that touched hers. “I am sorry.”
Moira snapped her eyes to his. “For what do ye apologize for?”
