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He had to see her for himself, and he just couldn’t understand why it mattered so damn much. He wondered briefly if Dirc had tried to spell him again, but quickly dismissed that theory. He could always feel Dirc’s spells, and this was not one of them.
    He moved lightly, soundlessly through the trees, circling the little clearing around Dirc’s humble cottage where he insisted upon living, even when he could have had a fine room in the castle, and a still room besides for all his herbs and concoctions. And then he saw her. Right there.
    She was stretched out on the ground in the grassy shade of a rowan tree, propped on one elbow, a book open before her. The first thing he noticed was the look of near rapture on her face as she carefully turned each page. Then he noticed the soft curve of her hip and the long lines of her body. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. Unbound except for a small twist on each side, it was long and thick and the color of sunshine. Bren couldn’t help it; he stared. Drust had been wrong when he said the lass was bonny. She was beautiful, exquisite. He could not take his eyes off of her. He wanted her at once, in a most visceral way. Some kind of strange feeling flooded through him, tightening his chest, and his manhood. He didn’t know what it was, but the feeling put him on edge so much that he gritted his teeth. He had felt something shift inside of him, and suddenly he was the hunter and she was the prey. He wanted the lass in his bed.
    She sighed and stretched, and still he watched her, mesmerized… until suddenly she looked up, alert, eyes scanning the trees. She had sensed him there, felt his eyes on her. He must have let his cover slip for a moment. He scowled. It was not like him to make mistakes like that, however slight. Annoyed at himself, he broke the strange connection he had felt with her and moved away through the trees, as silently as he had come. But he was not done with this lass. Something about her just wasn’t… usual.
    Faith had felt someone watching her, felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in warning. She might have sensed it earlier, if she hadn’t been so engrossed in the book she found in the cottage. She couldn’t read the words, but the pictures of plants and animals were breathtaking. All hand drawn, all perfectly detailed. She scanned the edge of the woods again. She couldn’t see anyone, but the feeling had been so intense, so jarring, that she got up and went into the cottage, latching the door tightly behind her. Even safe within the four sturdy walls, she could not settle down. There had been something or someone out there, she knew it. Someone… unsettling. Dangerous.
    She did not go out again. Instead she put the book carefully back on the shelf and searched the cottage from floor to ceiling. She found nothing that could tell her any more than she already knew. In fact there was not much more than the jars and books and a single trunk full of clothing and one extra wool blanket. There wasn’t even any food beyond the lunch of bread and meat he had left her. He must go to the keep for all of his meals, she supposed.
    When Dirc finally returned late that afternoon, she was sitting by the fire, lost in thought. She told him what had happened, how she had felt someone watching her and how the intensity of the feeling had sent her running inside. Now, telling Dirc, she felt a bit silly. Maybe she had just let her imagination run away from her, after all. It was probably no more than a deer or a hawk, if anything at all. But Dirc listened intently to her story, and oddly, she thought she saw a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes. She must be reading him wrong, again, he had said he wanted her to be safe, not stalked. Or… maybe nothing here was as it seemed, after all, she didn’t know Dirc at all, really. She would have to have her guard up at all times until she discovered the truth. He wanted her here, he had brought her here. There