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bedding women, but mention a woman’s time or birthing…
    ***
    Did she intentionally change the subject? Ciaran was usually skilled at getting the answers he sought, but he had to admit he never saw that one coming. He was speechless. She obviously did not want him asking any more questions. When he remembered her response, he had to laugh. She was good. He would give her that.
    He gave an impatient shrug as he approached Aiden. “It was all for naught. She would speak of naught. All she said was that the horse was trained in Scotland and she has had him since he was young.” Ciaran placed the wine sack in his bundle. “Let us keep moving and see the lass safe to the next village. Besides, I am sure your wee wife wants ye home.”
    Aiden’s mouth twisted wryly. “I am sure she does. Ciaran, ye cannae keep running the lass so hard to get her to the village. She is injured.” Ciaran was about to interject when Aiden cut him off. “Let us ride for a few more miles this day, and if we make it to the village, we make it. If we donna, we donna. Ye cannae stress her wounds even more, brother.” He spoke in a disapproving tone.
    “Aiden, ye know trouble will follow her. We will see her safe to the village, but we didnae ask to be her champions . I wish to be home to Glenorchy and—”
    “Ciaran—”
    He held up his hand to stop his interruption. “Ye know someone will come searching for the lass. If nae her, at least the mount—”
    “Ciaran—”
    Again, he held up his hand. “And when they do… She is the one who decided to run. ’Tisnae our fight, brother.”
    Aiden closed his eyes and shook his head downward. Unfortunately, it was at the same moment Ciaran heard someone else gasp from behind him. He spun around as Rosalia turned on her heel.
    Aiden slapped him on the shoulder. “Verra tactful.”
    “God’s teeth!” Ciaran moaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
    “And I wish ye luck with that, brother.”
    Rosalia stood next to her horse, patting him on his muscular neck. She would not look at Ciaran, and considering the words that had escaped his mouth, he did not blame her. He placed his hand on Noonie’s head and rubbed his ears. “He is magnificent.”
    She glanced down, her faint smile holding a touch of sadness. “Aye.”
    “Rosalia…”
    “Please donna speak of it, my laird. I am fine. If ye wish to take your leave, please donna feel ye must chaperone me. I am one and twenty, and I assure ye that I donna need a chaperone or a champion. ” Tears welled within her eyes.
    Ciaran drew his lips in thoughtfully. “Lass, we have been riding for well over a fortnight and—”
    Rosalia set her chin in a stubborn line. “Please, my laird, nay apologies. I am ready to ride. How far to the village?” she asked, her eyebrows rising inquiringly.
    “Half a day’s ride from here,” he sighed. “Rosalia, I didnae mean—”
    She pulled on Noonie’s mane so he would kneel. “Come, my laird. Ye are wasting precious light.” She grunted as she tugged herself onto Noonie’s back.
    Staring at her, Ciaran stood motionless. Her face was black, she was battered and bruised from head to toe, frightened of something or someone, and he’d told her she was not worth the trouble she brought. Shaking his head, he realized he could be such a dolt.
    Aiden brought over his brother’s horse and nudged his shoulder. “Take your mount before ye look even more the daft fool.”
    “Aye, there is that.” Before Ciaran mounted, he pulled out the wine sack from his bundle and handed it to Rosalia. “’Tis the ale. Take at least two swigs for the pain.”
    He could see her weighing her options. After a brief hesitation, she took the ale and drank two healthy gulps, choking both times. She handed the sack back and turned her head away from him.
    He was an arse.

Four
    “It appears only one room remains. We will sleep in the stable, and ye and your wife will be sharing a room,” said Aiden, masking a smile. When