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rest, brother?” he asked, reining in his mount behind Ciaran.
    He chuckled. “Why is it ye always ask me to rest, Aiden? Is it your bloody arse again?”
    “Nay, ye daft fool. The lass probably needs to stop and rest,” his brother chided him.
    Ciaran sighed. “I suppose. We will stop at the next clearing. Howbeit only for a short time. I want to keep moving in case trouble follows.”
    He halted his men at the next clearing, and Aiden quickly dismounted. Rushing to Rosalia’s side, Aiden extended his hand. “Lass, can I assist ye down?”
    An easy smile played the corners of her mouth and she remained as still as a stone statue. “Thank ye, sir—”
    “Aiden.”
    “Thank ye, Aiden, but Noonie will go down for me.” She pulled on the horse’s mane and he went down on bended knee.
    His brother shook his head in amusement. “’Tis truly incredible. Noonie?”
    “His name.” When she dropped Noonie’s reins and stepped away, Aiden picked them up.
    “Here, lass, I will take him for ye and tether him.”
    Turning, her movements were stiff and awkward. “There is nay need. He knows to stay when his reins are upon the ground.”
    “Truly?”
    “Aye.”
    Ciaran pulled out a piece of dried beef from his sack as Aiden approached him. “Do ye know the horse will stay when his reins are upon the ground?” Aiden shook his head in amazement.
    “I heard her speak as much to ye.”
    “Where did she get this mount?”
    Ciaran swung his head around as Rosalia struggled to sit upon the ground. “I donna know, but I intend to find out.” He patted his brother upon the shoulder and walked toward her with steely determination.
    ***
    She was going to die. Dropping to the ground, Rosalia attempted to mask her pain. They could not see her suffer. They needed to be gone, and the sooner she could be rid of them, the better. She needed to keep moving. The closer she traveled to Glengarry, the better her chances of escape. The swig of ale she took earlier had only assisted for a short time and was starting to wear off. She winced as she lifted her tunic to adjust her bindings to be more comfortable.
    “Do ye need me to assist ye?” When Rosalia yanked down the tunic, Ciaran added, “I didnae mean to startle ye.” He handed her some dried beef and the wine sack. “’Tis just wine. Ye may have another drink of ale before we mount. Did it help the pain?” He sat down beside her.
    “For a time.” She placed a piece of dried beef into her mouth and then cast her eyes downward.
    “Aiden tells me of your horse. Where did ye get such a trained mount?” When she took a drink of wine and ignored Ciaran’s question, he repeated it. “Lass, ye know I willnae harm ye. I only ask where ye got him.” This time his voice held a degree of warmth.
    From his demeanor, she did not think men or women often refused to answer his requests or demands. She spoke cautiously. “I’ve had him since he was young. He was trained that way,” she muttered uneasily.
    “And where was he trained?” A suggestion of annoyance at her vague reply hovered in his eyes.
    Rosalia chose her words carefully. “Er… Scotland, of course.”
    “And where in all of Scotland might that be, lass?” he drawled with distinct mockery.
    Suddenly anxious to escape from his disturbing presence, she spoke hastily. “Pray excuse me. I believe my monthly courses have arrived.” Pulling herself to her feet, she bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. Holding her ribs, she walked stiffly into the trees. She was running out of diversions.
    Did she actually tell him her monthly courses had arrived? She was at a loss for what to say and had to think of something quickly, so she spoke the first words that came to mind. That tactic usually worked on James. In fact, it would stop him dead in his tracks and he would always stop questioning her if she broached the subject. Rosalia could never understand why men were so adverse to womanly nature. They had no trouble