Free Mystic Warrior by Patricia Rice

committee decides I am a spy or worse.” He jumped down to tie the mare to an oak sapling. “This place is well concealed, and they’re too lazy to look for it.”
    She ignored the hand he offered and stepped down on her own, retrieving the satchel he’d stopped to fetch from the widow’s. She halted in the doorway of the musty cabin, waiting for him to locate a candle or lantern. “Why stay at all? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just leave?”
    â€œI’d forgotten how heartless you and your family can be.” With his mind, he lit the kindling he’d left in the fireplace—one small task he managed without creating an inferno. “It is my duty to fix what I have harmed.”
    â€œAre you to blame for that ugly pair of soldiers?” she asked while looking around at the hovel.
    â€œThe committee arrived before the fire. France is currently being governed by a Tribunal that is desperate for more cannon fodder for its war against Austria. Bretons and much of the western part of the country have ever despised the control of Paris. The provinces gathered an army of their own some months ago to march against the Tribunal, but the National Guard annihilated them. So when the Tribunal’s committee arrived to conscript all able-bodied men, they disappeared into the forest. The town has no desire to sacrifice their men for a war created merely to ease the fears of cowards and bullies.”
    Lissandra looked at him blankly. “Are there ever good reasons for war?”
    â€œSelf-defense, perhaps.” He waved away the question as irrelevant.
    She nodded and returned to the subject at hand. “And so you are helping the village rebuild? How do you avoid this committee?”
    He watched in fascination as Lis unfastened her crushed hat and set it on the rickety table. In the fire-light, her lustrous blond hair sparkled like ocean pearls and crystals, even more so when she pulled out the pins and shook the tresses free. He almost bit his tongue when she dragged her fingers through that waterfall of shimmering light to massage her scalp. How could she not know she was crippling him with her provocative gestures?
    She couldn’t still be that innocent, could she? He preferred not knowing the answer to that question. He threw another log on the fire and watched it flare. “I pretend I’m a simpleton, a beast of burden, useless for conscription.”
    â€œAnd that’s why the priest believes you are a miracle worker?”
    He could tell she didn’t entirely believe him, but he refused to explain himself. It was not as if he’d given his actions a great deal of thought. He just knew the violent life he’d been leading had to end. He’d hoped he could find peace in this remote village surrounded by mountains, hidden from the world. “I plant their fields, and they feed me with their best bread. The loaves they eat in their homes are hard and full of weevils. I’m not the saintly paragon here.”
    She smiled, and Murdoch realized he was pacing. He’d nearly burned out the soles of his best boots fighting the fire, and his feet had blisters that didn’t need further irritation. He halted and glared at her. This was an impossible situation. He couldn’t stay here. Not with her. He’d explode into a thousand tiny bits. Or blow the roof off the house.
    â€œYou’re no saint,” she agreed. “You had a white horse of your own, did you not? What became of it?”
    He didn’t ask how she knew that. Lis had always been able to See him—if she put her mind to it. He was just surprised that she’d tried. “I sent it to the coast with some . . . friends.”
    â€œThen how did you acquire the horse outside?”
    He headed for the door. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you think. She was badly abused and kicks or bites anyone who comes near her. Except me, so I adopted