Page 23 of An Outlaw’s Desire

“Fear not.” The man’s tone gentled. “I mean you no harm.”

“So you say, and yet, you hold my dagger.”

He brushed snow from the blade with his gloved thumb.

“’Twas a gift,” she said. “One that means a great deal to me.”

He turned it so the handle faced her and offered it to her. As her fingers closed around it, he said: “One of the guards slipped on the ice, as you did. The older guard took him to the castle.”

Was the stranger telling her the truth? “How do you know?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

“I saw.”

“You were…here? In the stone circle?”

He nodded.

The knife was fully in her grip now. His hand dropped to his side, and yet, she sensed he remained on alert, ready to lunge or leap back if necessary.

So many questions swirled in her mind. She longed to know what he’d been doing at the ancient site. Mayhap he’d been searching for the lost treasure. If so, he might know more about it than she’d learned from his lordship’s book.

But, she had her knife. Inside her boots, her toes were numb from the cold. She should get to warmth and safety as soon as possible.

“You should return to the keep, milady.”

She hadn’t told him she was a lady. He’d figured that out for himself, mayhap from her manner of speaking or her clothes. Her alarm deepened, prompting her to rise.

He followed. Standing, he was a taller than she was. He loomed over her, his bold presence capturing the small space between them. He almost seemed…more than human.

“I must know,” she dared to say.

“Aye?”

“Are you…a ghost?”

He chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “I am as flesh and blood as you. Come. I will escort you—”

“Thank you, but I do not need your help. Goodnight.”

Pitt’s first impulse was to pursue. The lady’s cloak fluttered behind her as she raced toward the field and the castle, pinpoints of torchlight barely visible on the battlements.

He could easily catch up to her. He could insist on accompanying her. While he couldn’t escort her all of the way to the fortress—too risky—he’d at least have made sure she didn’t run into any trouble.

Protecting her, for some reason, seemed vital to him.

Desire, longing, and reticence tied knots around his conscience. He scowled, because the only reason for him being on these lands on a bloody cold night was to ensure he saved his son. Nothing else mattered.

And yet, it did.

She did.

Was she his Blythe? She had his Blythe’s fighting spirit. She looked to be about the age his Blythe would be now.

While they’d talked, he’d thought to ask her name, but part of him had feared the answer; feared that if she was Blythe, she might recognize him—and recoil in revulsion. He was, after all, called the son of a traitor. A penniless fool.

Pitt turned his back to the field. His eyes burned. He took two steps forward then dared a glance over his shoulder. Out in the snowy field, the lady stumbled, struggled to her feet, and hurried on.

His hands curled into fists.