MacAlister - Taming The Scotsman Part 5

Truly, he would be devastating.

Perhaps his condition was a G.o.dsend after all. Dressed as he was, it was much easier for her to remember that he was nothing like the type of man she fancied.

That he was as ill-refined as any man could possibly be.

He lacked manners and couth.

But what he lacked in personality, he more than made up for in looks...

Nora!

She shook herself mentally. Whatever was the matter with her? She was acting like her mother's maid, who was ever quick to chase after any pa.s.sably handsome man, with no regard for the man's heart or the consequences of her actions.

Nora always looked at what a man was on the inside. A pretty package might be beautiful to behold, but if it contained an asp, it was better cast aside than cradled to one's bosom.

She'd lived her life always by that motto and no one, not even Ewan MacAllister, was going to change her.

Without a glance back at her, Ewan clucked his tongue at his mount and spurred it forward.

Once more, Nora was incredulous at his actions as he and the horse tore across the craggy land where any step could send both man and horse flying into peril.

Why, they'd be lucky if the two of them didn't break their necks!

"Well, if you be thinking that I intend to run after you at that careless pace, you've another think coming, Ewan MacAllister," she said, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.

He might be Lord High-and-Mighty with a horse, but she wasn't so foolish with her life. She actually wanted to get to England in one piece.

So she urged her mare forward and trotted much more carefully through the mossy landscape.

When she reached the edge of the meadow, Ewan was stopped and waiting for her with one hand fisted on his hip. His horse strained restlessly against the bit, wanting to run some more, but Ewan held it under control.

By his face, she could tell the man was greatly peeved at her.

"Gathering wool, are we?" he asked in a sharp tone.

"Nay," she said primly, "merely practicing irritating you, and by the looks of your face, I'd say I'm doing a rather remarkable job of it. My mother always says that any effort worth pursuing is worth pursuing well."

Growling, he scratched at his beard and eyed her fiercely. She wondered if the man even knew how to smile, if he realized just how fierce a specter he looked.

"You're a spoiled la.s.s, aren't you?"

"Aye," she said, tilting her head impishly. "My father says 'tis one of my moreendearing qualities."

He grunted at that, then turned his horse about and led her into the thick forest.

This time his pace was much more reasonable. So much so that she had little trouble keeping up with him.

Now that they were in closer proximity, Nora began asking the questions she'd wanted to ask earlier.

"How long will it take us to reach your brother's castle? We are on MacAllister land, are we not?"

"Aye," he said, his gaze focused on the area before them. "But we're on the outer reaches of it. I can usually make the ride in a day and a half, but if you insist on this pace, it will probably take us a year or more to reach it."

She scoffed at him. "Do you always race about like a madman, then?"

He didn't answer.

Nora waited for almost a minute.

He didn't acknowledge her in the least. He acted as if she didn't exist at all.

"Excuse me," she said irritably. "I asked you a question, Ewan MacAllister."

Again he didn't respond.

Nora was appalled. "Do you always make it a habit to ignore questions?"

He expelled a long-suffering sigh. "My lady, if you will travel in silence, I will give you anything you ask."

"Will you take me to London?"

"Nay."

She clenched her teeth. So be it. If he wouldn't do as she requested, then she wouldn't do as he requested.

"Fine weather out, is it not?" Nora looked about the forest. She spurred her horse forward so that she could ride apace of Ewan. "Quite refres.h.i.+ng and warm. I rather like this time of year. It was always my favorite. Why, I remember being a young girl. My mother and I would..."

Ewan groaned as he realized the woman intended to chatter until he either killed her or gave in to her.

His ears fair buzzed with her words, and though her voice was quite dulcet and beguiling, it would be even more so if heard sparingly.

His head throbbed from the ale he had consumed. The bright sunlight made his eyes burn and his stomach sour. He'd planned on spending the rest of this wretched day in blissful stupor, lying abed.

Now he was off to Lochlan's castle, where he would have to face his mother and brother. See their own grief over the death he had caused.

To this day, he found it hard to look his mother in the eye. Though she had never said a single word against him, he knew, as she did, where the blame for Kieran's death lay.

Squarely on his shoulders.

His gut tightened. It seemed like only yesterday that he and Kieran had played at battle. That the two of them had dreamed and bragged of the men they would someday be.

"Are you all right?" Nora's question intruded on his thoughts.

"I am fine."

"You don't look fine. You look sad and upset. Is my company truly so distasteful to you?"

It was on his tongue to tell her aye, but the lie lodged in his throat. There was no need to be deliberately cruel to her. She couldn't help it if she wasn't entirely sane. Mayhap there was some cruelty in her past that had caused her delusions.

Having lost his dreams so painfully, he would never rip them away from another.

"Nay, my lady. I don't find you distasteful."

"Just irritating."

"Your words, not mine."

She smiled at him then. It was a warm, soft smile that made her amber eyes glow. "So you find me charming?"

He felt a strange urge to whimper at her insistence. "Are you incapable of silence?"

"Are you incapable of speech?"

"Aye. Completely and utterly."

"Well, then you speak incredibly well for a mute. I once knew a mute. He lived in the local village and used to make the most divine shoes. They were so soft that you felt as if your feet were cus.h.i.+oned by pillows."

Ewan did whimper as she continued with her tale of the cobbler and the village where he lived.

This must be his penance.

Surely the devil had sent this woman to him on this day to be his torment. There was no other explanation possible.

She was his anchor. His millstone.

It would have been kinder to have him hanged, drawn and quartered.

For hours they traveled at a leisurely pace that was far more frustrating than productive. And all the while she prattled on endlessly about everything imaginable until he feared his ears would bleed from the stress.

As night approached, Ewan looked about for a place to sleep. Someplace where he could put a wide distance between the two of them before he yielded to the urge to throttle her.

He found them a small clearing beside a stream that could provide them with fresh water.

"We're stopping here?" she asked as he reined his horse in. "To sleep until morning?"

"Aye," he said gruffly, "unless it's your wont to ride through the night." Which he was more than willing to do. Anything to get her away from him as soon as possible so that he could return to his home and be at peace again.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked about with pinched features. "Is there not someplace we could find a bed?"

"Do you see a bed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there no village nearby?"

"Aye, a few hours away, and the way you travel, more like half a day away."

Nora stiffened. "The way I travel? What do you mean by that?"

Ewan let out a tired breath. Was the woman blind not to know the answer to that? Or was she merely trying to aggravate him more?

"How many times did we have to stop for you to attend your needs, my lady? Better still, how many times did I have to circle back to your side because you were off daydreaming instead of keeping up with me? I swear a-"

"Do not swear at me. 'Tis rude."

Ewan snapped his mouth shut and held his tongue from saying what he really thought. If she thoughtthat was rude, he could certainly educate her on truly rude.

He dismounted and led his horse toward the stream so that it could drink.

Glancing back, he saw the look of horror on her face as she contemplated a night spent on the cold ground.

And with that image came another. That of his gentle mother and sisters-in-law.

Each one a lady who deserved only the best.

As irritating as Nora was, she was someone's child, and she wasn't used to such hards.h.i.+p. No doubt she had never slept on anything save feather ticks and pillows.

Weary and tired, he remounted his horse and headed back toward her.

"Very well," he said. "If we travel back a bit the way we came, Lenalor isn't that far away."

"Lenalor?"

"It's a small village where we can eat a hot meal and you can sleep in comfort."

Relief brightened her soft amber eyes. "How long will it take us to reach it?"

"An hour, mayhap a little longer."

"Is it a large village? I've never heard of Lenalor before. What will we find there?"

Ewan raked his hand through his hair as she began barraging him with questions again. The lady was ever curious and never silent.

"You're not answering me again, are you?" she asked after several minutes.

"You ask too many questions. I can barely draw breath to answer one before you give me three more."

"Then I shall ask them more slowly."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Why?"

"Because then I'd feel obligated to answer them."

To his surprise, she laughed. It was a sweet sound, not high-pitched or silly. Rather it was deep and pleasant.

"Poor Ewan, ever vexed by a maid's simple tongue. My father oft says that if he could harness the unfailing energy of my mouth and feed it to his troops, he would never have to worry over any army defeating them in battle. He says an hour of my chatter would keep an army battling for at least three or four days."

Ewan looked back at her over his shoulder. "Those are harsh words."