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instructing me in the use of a dagger.”
    “One lesson in how
to wield a weapon is hardly enough to protect yerself, lass,” Tristan chided
reproachfully, having closed the distance between them.  He now stood directly
before Isobel.  She looked up at him sweetly but he would not be detoured. 
“You should not be riding alone. ‘Tis dangerous.” 
    “I’ve heard that
there are villains in this forest,” Isobel said suggestively as she looked up
into Tristan’s hazel eyes.  “Have I underestimated my safety in your company,
blacksmith?”
    “For all you ken,
I may be a villain,” Tristan retorted.
    Isobel bit her
lower lip, making it difficult for Tristan to concentrate on lecturing her
regarding the perils of traveling alone.
    “I may not always
be about to protect you, milady.  We shall arrange our meetings henceforth to
assure your safety.  No more slipping your guards unless you have arranged for
me to accompany you.”
    Tristan’s words
were authoritative.
    Isobel lifted up
onto her tip toes and kissed Tristan’s cheek, startling him visibly.
    “Thank you for
fussing over my safety,” she said sweetly, conceding the argument.
    Tristan was
stunned for a moment.  Isobel’s beauty took his breath away.  Her cheeks were flushed
from her ride and her hair was unbound, falling in loose flaxen tendrils about
her thin waist.  Tristan felt his heart beat speed up in response to the lass
and he looked away from her sharply, willing his body to control itself.
    “I was not in as much
danger as you imply,” Isobel said with a sly smile.  “I have a very good
teacher and I am intent upon learning how to protect myself.  I need to learn
more and learn it quickly.  In fact I had hoped to find you when I had the
chance to slip away.”
    Tristan said
nothing.  He silently acknowledged the irony of the situation.  He had come to
here to escape the lass, to sort out his confounded thoughts about her.
     And here she was.
    A sudden image of
his dream invaded his mind.  Isobel’s golden curls surrounding them like a
curtain as they kissed.  Tristan clenched his teeth and pushed the image from
his mind.
    “Hungry?” he asked
as he stalked towards Justice and began rummaging in his saddlebag.  He drew
out the bread, cheese and ale and arched an eyebrow in invitation.  He knew
that arguing with Isobel over his concerns for her safety would get him
nowhere.  She was a head-strong lass if he had ever seen one.
    “Aye,” Isobel said
with a slight smile.  “That would be lovely.”
    She lifted her
skirts and settled herself daintily atop a fallen log.  Isobel crossed her feet
at the ankles and smoothed her skirts.  She was a well born Lady and even in
the midst of the forest, her manners did not escape her.
    Isobel shifted her
gaze back to Tristan, who was still digging in his saddlebag while his horse
picked over the grass at the edge of the glen.  She knew that it had been
dangerous to come here, but she did not care.  Everything about Tristan
intrigued her.  From his broad shoulders to the muscles that rippled under his
linen shirt. His unruly hair was bound hastily at the nape of his neck and she
suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to run her fingers
through his hair.  Isobel knew that she should repent her scandalous thoughts,
but she could not force herself to do so. 
    On the contrary,
she was curious.
    Her mind wandered
further still and Isobel wondered what it would be like if Tristan was the man
chosen to be her husband.  Would that he could be the one to do the unspeakable
things that her maids had whispered about.
     Tristan’s back
was turned to her now and she watched him openly.  His plaid was belted about
his narrow waist, which was decorated with an array of weapons.  Isobel knew
that Tristan would protect her, a fact which she found both exhilarating and
comforting.  She felt undeniably safe in his presence.
    Isobel had a pang
of guilt as she thought of