Free Dreamspinner by Lynn Kurland

who looked as if they might have sprung out of Ceangail—
    Nay, it was impossible. It was still quite dark and whilst his sight in the dark was excellent, he was extremely weary and, he could admit now that he was no longer on board, still a little seasick. He was imagining things. He had not just seen whom he’d thought he’d seen.
    He waited a bit longer just to be safe, then removed his hand from his companion’s mouth. She jerked away from him and spun around to face him. She was bleeding down the side of her head, which led him to believe she had had a bad night. He started to reach out to touch her head only to have her duck away from his hand.
    “And just what was that about?” she demanded in a furious whisper, gesturing down the road.
    Rùnach wasn’t sure if she was angry with him or terrified by what she’d seen. Given that she’d apparently been robbed thrice in the past se’nnight, perhaps she had more reasons for fury than he wanted to know. Or perhaps she thought she might warm herself with a bit of perfectly reasonable indignation.
    “That was about you following me,” he returned, quite reasonably he thought, “and someone else following you. I didn’t care for the dance, so I decided to make a change to the pattern.”
    She put her shoulders back. “I wasn’t following you. I simply happened to be going in your direction.”
    Rùnach suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, then undid the catch of his cloak. He reached out and swung it around her shoulders, then started to fasten the clasp for her before it occurred to him that he wouldn’t have done the like for any lad he knew. He pulled back quickly, then returned to folding his arms over his chest. It was a handy thing, that, because it kept him from reaching out to finger either her shorn hair or her very pale cheeks.
    And then he realized what she’d said.
    “My direction,” he echoed. “To where?”
    “That, good sir, is none of your business,” she said, lifting her chin. “And while your generosity does you credit, I cannot accept this—”
    “Keep the cloak,” he said shortly, “and save me the sight of your shivering self whilst we discuss exactly where you think you’re going on this road that only leads to one place.”
    She stepped backward. “I must be on my way. I fear I cannot repay you for the cloak.”
    “No need,” he said, waving away her words, “but let us discuss this road you’re thinking of taking—”
    “Again, none of your affair.” She nodded firmly, as if she perhaps sought to convince them both of her determination. “I have business.”
    He watched her turn and walk out onto the road, then considered a bit more. He supposed it was possible that she was fleeing something unsavoury—an unfortunate betrothal, or an iron-handed father, or perhaps even a controlling mother—but that would surelylead her to seek refuge with a grandmother or a great-aunt who would be equal to the task of sheltering her from such annoying relatives. He supposed it was possible that there existed the odd hamlet tucked along the coast, supplier of meat and wool for those who braved Gobhann’s unforgiving walls. Perhaps the lass before him was simply on her way to such a place.
    He sighed heavily. Obviously he was going to have to take time and see her safely to wherever she was going. He stepped out onto the road and started after his self-appointed charge. It took him no time at all to catch up with her, then he walked beside her, keeping a careful eye on the road ahead. He saw no other traveler, which was only mildly reassuring. The woods were thick, and dawn not yet arrived. He watched her as they walked, wondering what she was about. She was continuing doggedly on her way, ignoring him for the most part save for those wary looks she occasionally favored him with.
    “Where are you headed?” he asked finally.
    She quickened her pace and said nothing.
    “There isn’t much to the west,” he noted.
    She glanced