Free Moonstone by Olivia Stocum Page A

not.”
    A breeze picked up, making her shiver. William unclasped his clan badge with one hand and tucked the top portion of his plaid around her. Wool trapped his heat against her body. She wiggled, caught between two desires. One was to flee from him, and the other to bury herself deeper into his warmth. 
    He looked wane. “When is the last time you slept?” she asked , settling her chin on his shoulder.
    “Not since I met you.”
    His shirt sleeve was stained with dried blood from the night before. “You are injured.”
    “Aye, I know.”
    “Shouldn’t you have Connor look at your shoulder?”
    He eyed her through dark, narrowed lashes.
    “You should.”
    “Rhiannon .”
    “ It’s bad enough that I have brought you into my mess. Go take care of yourself, please.”
    “You didna bring me into this. I chose to get involved.”
    Why he made that choice was still beyond her. A man like him didn’t need to go to lengths for any woman.
    “Please, just take care of yourself.”
    He studied her for a moment, eyes barely hiding dejection. Rhiannon’s heart sank and she wanted to say something kind.
    “Thank you for taking care of my arm.” She knew it wasn’t enough. “Thank you for probably killing Geoffrey.”
    He nodded, following it with a sound that might have been, you’re welcome . Then he turned and called for Alice. 
    She came, a mug of wine already in her hands. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said.
    “Make sure she finishes it,” William ordered.
    Rhiannon glared at the both of them, but it seemed she’d been overruled. They ignored her.
    William slipped out from behind her and walked away, looking all too much like the leader he was. She managed a few careful sips of the wine before he was back with a plaid in his hands.
    “The cloak she wore last night is too big for her, too cumbersome,” he said. “Wrap her in this instead.” He handed it to Alice. “Connor has one for you as well.”
    “Thank you, my laird.”
    Rhiannon finished her drink and let Alice tuck the plaid around her, realizing belatedly that she’d complied with William’s wishes without a second thought.
    “What am I doing?”
    Alice frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “Never mind. Just . . . never mind.”
     
    * * *
     
    Stay awake.
    Rhiannon drew up straight in the saddle, attempting to clear the sleep from her head. She cringed when the cut on her side pulled. As always, she was all too aware of William next to her on the dapple-gray stallion his men had taken from Geoffrey. He hadn’t wanted her to ride by herself, but she needed to maintain some dignity. Not that Geoffrey had left her with very much. But she wasn’t so bad off that she was ready to give up trying. 
    Jeremiah, t he mature stallion beneath her, was steady, but stiff. He’d seen his better days pass him by.
    Like William’s shoulder.  
    She wondered what the two battle-scarred warriors had been through together. William was not much over twenty-five, by her best assumption, yet his mount had to be at least fourteen. And if he’d had the animal most of its life, then William had taken up the sword when he was but a child.
    Rhiannon looked at William in his green plaid, belted at his waist. The excess fabric crossed his torso, then fell over his back in folds. His sword was strapped to his back and his ebony hair fell around his broad shoulders. She remembered the way his smooth hair felt against her face, and the way it smelled. Like the morning air and leather.
    A new beard graced his chiseled jaw. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken a time or two. A hairline scar ran down his right forearm. She shivered and wondered what the scar on his shoulder looked like, and how he’d come by it.
    The sun filtered through thin gray clouds above their heads. Rugged, craggy hills rolled around them. Rhiannon closed her eyes and imagined the lochs and the high-blooming heather of William’s homeland. She pictured the summer