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He shook his head. He had faithfully counted the passing days, as if hoping he would somehow reach the end of his misery. Had that been today? Had sleeping wrapped around Bliss made a difference? Had feeling connected to another woman helped heal his pain?
A sudden memory sprang up that chilled him to the bone. He recalled meeting an old woman, a seer he thought, though he learned later that she was believed a witch. She had pertinent news of Reeve’s wife, Tara. She also had predictions for him, warning him that he would suffer great injury and that when he woke from healing, he would gaze upon the face of his future wife. He had shared all the information with his brothers, feeling somewhat of a fool for rattling on about gazing upon his future bride when he woke and learned it had been Bliss. He shook his head again. The seer had been so accurate; all her predictions had come true. How was it possible for a person to peer into the future like the seer did ... like Bliss did?
“You debate yourself?” Bliss asked.
Trey sent her a questionable glance.
She smiled. “You keep shaking your head, stop, then shake it again. You must be debating something with yourself.”
He grinned. “It’s a good debate I often have.”
“Who wins?”
He laughed and thumped his chest. “I do, every time.”
Her laughter warmed his heart, a heart that, he could not deny, was beginning to feel again. And for the first time in what seemed a very long time, he wanted it to.
“Could we stop for a few moments?” she asked.
“Your arm pains you?” he asked concerned.
“My stomach,” she said with a smile.
He nodded. “You’re hungry.”
“So are you.”
“You know that?” He shook his head again. “You heard my stomach protesting.”
She laughed. “Quite loudly though you were too deep in thought to pay heed to it.”
A matter he had to rectify. He could not keep getting lost in his thoughts and fail to pay heed to his surroundings. It had already proven dangerous; he did not want it to turn fatal.
He found a spot beneath a towering pine that had shed enough needles to provide a nice cushion for them to sit on.
They shared the last of the food, having determined that it would take perhaps three hours or less to reach their destination. Then food and shelter would be no problem. Once finished there, they could start their journey to MacAlpin keep, where he could see she was kept safe.
“What is it that so often steals your thoughts?”
Her question startled him, especially since he wasn’t prepared to answer it. But how did he avoid it?
“It does not involve the true king,” she said, staring at him strangely.
“You intrude where not invited,” he snapped, not wanting her to know his private concerns.
“My apologizes,” she said, and turned her head away from him.
A twinge of guilt struck him, not for warning her about intruding on his thoughts but for snapping so sharply at her.
“There are things that are private,” he said in way of an apology though he would not offer one. He did not want her to know his every thought, and she had to realize that.
“I understand,” she said.
He didn’t like that she kept her head turned away from him. He reached out, his hand slipping beneath her chin to gently turn her face.
She avoided his eyes, and he didn’t like it. “If you’re angry with me, have your say and be done with it.”
“I am not angry,” she said her glance finally falling on him. “But it is difficult for me to avoid your thoughts when you so easily open them to me.”
