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“I am ready,” she said, smiling. She looked like a sprite, he thought, with her bright fair hair and golden eyes, and although he would have loved to kiss her, he restrained himself and smiled back.
Finn watched the sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him, and the sight caused him to sigh a little and visualize her in his arms, kissing her all over. Then he gave himself a mental shake as he realized that once again she was causing him to become aroused.
“Ye must eat,” he told her firmly as they sat down beside the fire. He had never forgotten the first time she had deliberately refused food.
“Good, I am hungry.” Her eyes were searching his face and frowning. “But there is somethin’ else, is there no’?”
Finn thought he must have a very expressive face, or else Greta was a mind reader because he had said nothing else. Women and their damned intuition! He looked up at her questioningly. “Greta, I only told ye we must eat,” he said, with a nervous laugh.
“No, ye said somethin’ else,” she insisted, shaking her head in disagreement. “Wi’ yer eyes. There is somethin’ you are no’ sayin’.”
He sighed, stood up, and made his way around the fire to sit beside her. “I am fine,” he told her. “But things are takin’ longer than I thought they would. I am worried.”
“Maybe some well-trained guards have come an’ killed them a’.” Greta’s voice was flat as if she did not care, but he was not fooled. She cared about everyone.
“My men are well-trained too,” he pointed out. “They have all been on the battlefield.
Clearly, she wanted him to think this was the outcome she desired, and although it made him angry, he could not blame her. Every single thing she owned had been earned by her own sweat and toil, and now she was seated next to a man who was the opposite of everything she admired. He knew she despised him, and it hurt.
Finn handed Greta a bowl of soup he had just taken from a cauldron over the fire and a big chunk of bread. It was about twice as much food as he usually gave her, and she was puzzled. However, she ate silently, as did he, then she went to wash their bowls in the loch. When she came back, she found Finn standing beside the smallest of all their horses, a gray gelding with a gentle temperament who was usually used as a packhorse.
“Are ye goin’ tae ride away an’ leave me here?” she asked. “Where is yer horse?”
“I am giving him tae ye,” he replied. “His name is Ally.”
She was puzzled. “Ye are lettin’ me ride wi’ ye?” she asked. “No’ on the same horse?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Ye have tae go alone.”
“Where?” Greta asked, sensing a trap. She looked into his dark eyes, shadowed by his brows as he frowned. She should have been feeling happy that he was letting her go, so why was she not?
“Back tae yer home,” he answered, then he took her hands. “Greta, I brought ye with us because…because yer courage made me remember my mother.” He frowned and averted his gaze from hers. “I am ashamed, Greta. I wanted tae find a reason why I brought ye along, but that is the only one I can think of. I was selfish an’ stupid, an’ I put ye in danger. I have no right tae ask for yer forgiveness, but I ask it anyway.”
Greta tried to find something to say, but for a moment she was dumbfounded.
At last, she found her voice. “Thank ye for no’ lettin’ them kill me.” It was the best she could do since forgiveness was still a step too far.
Finn was crestfallen. However, he could not blame Greta for her lukewarm answer after what he had done to her. It was more than he deserved. Then he remembered something. “Ye said ye could no’ ride very well.”
To Finn’s surprise, Greta laughed. “I can probably ride better than ye can,” she replied. “But I wanted ye tae think I could not so ye would leave yer horses unguarded. If I had the chance then I could get away, but I never got one. Why d’ye want tae let me go now when ye have refused all this time?” She was mystified.
Finn’s head was spinning. He did not quite know the answer to her question, and his usually agile mind seemed to have become sluggish and slow. “I-I am afraid for yer safety when the lads come back,” he replied. “I should never have made ye come with us.”
“No, ye should not,” Greta agreed. “Ye should have left me in my own village tae help to mend it. But ye forget, Sir Bandit, that I am a lone woman. I will have tae spend a night on my own among the wolves an’ wild boars.”
Finn cursed himself. He had not thought of that. For a moment, he contemplated giving her his sword, but it was too big and unwieldy for her. “Can ye make a fire?” he asked doubtfully.
Greta looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Of course I can!” she said indignantly. “I am no’ some silly laird’s daughter that has tae have everything done for her!”
Finn nodded. “Of course,” he murmured. “Sorry. I have tae keep sayin’ ‘sorry’ today, Greta. I have made so many mistakes.”
“Aye, I will no’ argue wi’ ye there,” she said bitterly. “Give me the knife ye use for skinnin’ the rabbits. If I sleep close to the fire, any wild beasties will leave me alone.”
He surrendered the knife to her, complete with its leather holder, then packed her some food in a satchel, together with the blankets and the rough piece of linen she had been using as a towel. “I don’t want ye bein’ dirty,” he said, with a sad smile. “An’ I will miss ye.”
“Really?” Greta gave a half laugh. “Please don’t mind if I don’t miss ye in return.” Then she paused. “What are ye goin’ tae do now?” she asked, suddenly finding that she was genuinely concerned.
“I am goin’ tae look for Liam an’ the lads,” he answered. “Now go before they come back.”
