Free What a Lass Wants by Rowan Keats Page A

ago.”
    “She’s wed to Aiden MacCurran now.”
    “So I’ve heard.” She waited until he had gained the saddle before adding, “I’ve been quite remiss in sending her my good wishes. I must remedy that.”
    He said nothing, just urged the horse into motion and followed their trail back to the old guard. “I saw no sign of a wheelwright,” he informed the gray-haired man. “The cart is still stuck in the mud.”
    “So they might be here a while yet.”
    “Aye. Give them a day or two to settle their own affairs. If they’ve made no progress by then, send someone to repair the wheel.” Bran sat back in the saddle. “You should be aware that we ran into a spot of trouble.”
    The old guard frowned. “What sort of trouble?”
    Bran explained what had happened, sticking very close to the truth. “The young Sassenach will have a wee sore head come morn. If they complain about a lack of hospitality,” he said, smiling, “fetch me. I’d be pleased to address their concerns.”
    Dougal’s man snorted. “Serves the bloody fool right.”
    “The lad here,” Bran nodded over his shoulder, “will meet the rewards of his poor judgment back at the manor. I’ll make certain he can’t sit for a day.”
    The old man’s gaze met Caitrina’s over the edge of her brat. “As it should be, I suppose.”
    They left without further ado. When they had been plodding along for a while, she asked, “I trust you weren’t actually thinking to take a switch to my behind?”
    “Nay. I’ve no desire to be arrested for striking a lady.”
    “That’s good to hear. You sounded quite convincing to the guard.”
    “One of my many talents,” he said dryly.
    The horse stumbled in a rut and Caitrina slammed against Bran’s sturdy back. Only for a moment, but long enough for her to take the measure of every masculine sinew she’d glimpsed in his rooms the night before. He was the very opposite of the sort of man she should desire. A cad. A bounder. A rogue. But her body reacted to the press of his flesh without care, sending a hot sizzle to the very core of her being. There was something delightfully reassuring about his strength. He was magnificent, really. “So, when we reach the manor, you’ll just collect your prize and be on your way?”
    “Aye.”
    Caitrina tightened her grip around his waist. Well, then. There it was—he was leaving. Unless she found some way to stop him. As they left the woods and followed the path across the meadow toward the postern gate, she sighed. Cruelly, she could think of no other option but to betray him. “What if I choose not to relinquish the crown?”
    “You won’t make that mistake.”
    A shiver ran down her spine. His response was icy cool and edged with steely promise. Exactly the sort ofresponse she might expect from a dangerous criminal. If it had been a matter of personal gain, Caitrina would have shut her mouth and pursued her cause no further. But Marsailli might even now be enduring another beating. Especially if Giric had cause to believe it was she who had spied upon the camp.
    “I’m afraid I must,” she said bravely. He wouldn’t attack her in full view of the guards on the manor walls. Nay, of course not. That would be madness. “I will only give you the crown if you help me with one more task.”
    He halted the destrier and stared at the sunlit manor for a long moment. Then he sighed heavily. “What task would that be?”
    “There is something I need to retrieve from within the English camp.”
    He twisted in his saddle. “Something? Or some
one
?”
    Caitrina stiffened. How had he guessed?
    “The time has come for complete honesty, Lady Caitrina. I’ve had my fill of lies. Now I want to hear the truth. All of it.”
    The
whole
truth? Impossible. She was a spy for King Edward. Even half-truths would condemn her as a traitor.
    Caitrina mulled over several possible stories in her head, seeking one that did not make her look like a fool or a faithless