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He grinned suddenly. "The way ye order me about, for one thing."

"It doesn't seem to do me much good," she answered grumpily. "You never listen."

"Och, I would not say that! Are we not bound for Annan, exactly as Your Highness desires?" He made her a mock bow, very graceful, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You should think about the rest of it, as well," she said. "Coming to Tullyleah."

"Leave Scotland?" Alistair looked troubled. "I've never thought of it."

"I don't see why not," Deirdre said shortly, pulling her cloak around her and standing. "'Tis a horrid place."

CHAPTER 16

They woke to rain that went on and on, sometimes in a downpour, sometimes in a drizzle. The sodden earth squelched beneath their feet and their clothing would not dry, even when Alistair succeeded in igniting a sullen little fire. The next day was no better. By dusk they were all exhausted, and Alistair, who knew this stretch of forest well, insisted they seek shelter at a woodsman's cottage. The old man who inhabited it was hardly welcoming, but when Alistair insisted, he let them inside.

Alistair went to stable the horse and Deirdre cast a nervous glance around the filthy room, very much aware that the woodsman was watching her with sly, sideways glances. His enormous dog, surely the biggest she had ever seen, sprawled between them and the fire, stealing a large measure of its heat.

Deirdre eyed the hound apprehensively. It stared back, then yawned, exposing enormous fangs that glinted in the firelight. Deirdre stepped back a little and stumbled into the woodsman, who was standing just behind her.

"I've naught to give ye," he said.

"That's all right," she answered quickly. "We have dried meat and bread—will you share it?"

"Aye. I will."

She had just turned to their small bag of provisions when a movement caught her eye.

"No, Maeve!" she cried. "Stand back!"

The child had walked over to the dog. It lifted its head from its enormous paws and looked straight into her eyes. Before Deirdre could move, the hound sniffed Maeve's outstretched hands, then put his tongue out and licked the girl's face.

"That's enough, sweeting," Deirdre said, picking up her giggling child and setting her on a bench.

"Nice doggie," Maeve said.

"Big doggie," Deirdre answered. "Too big to be playing with tonight. Here, now," she added quickly, putting a bit of bread into Maeve's hand. "Eat."

The woodsman walked over to the dog and kicked it in the ribs. "Out!" he commanded.

The hound cringed away, and as Alistair opened the door, it slipped past him into the night. The woodsman gave Alistair his sideways stare. "Mayhap I've seen ye before."

"Mayhap ye have, grandfather," Alistair answered, shaking the rain from his cloak and spreading it on the earthen floor before the fire. "But whether or no, I think you'd best forget you saw me here tonight."

The old man nodded quickly. "Aye, well, 'tis none of my affair."

"That's right," Alistair agreed. "It is not."

There was no more talk as they consumed their meager meal and settled down on the earthen floor to sleep. But even the warmth of the fire could not lull Deirdre into slumber. She didn't like the way the woodsman looked at them and then their baggage, as though weighing up his chances.

The night was halfway through when she rose to replenish the dying fire. When the logs began to blaze she sat back on her heels and held her hands out to the flame, then jumped with a startled cry as a hand touched her shoulder.

"Go back to sleep," Alistair said. "You need your rest."

"I'm nervous as a cat tonight," she whispered back. "That man—he looks at us as if he means us no good."

"Perhaps he doesn't," Alistair said, amused. "But you mustn't lose any sleep over him. He won't dare try anything tonight. He kens well enough who I am."

"And he could earn a piece of gold, perhaps, if he went to Ravenspur Manor with his information," she said, voicing one of the fears that kept her wakeful.