“I confess,” she replied slowly. “I’m curious about…someone.”
She would be his by the time the sun sank on the horizon. The light, sweet scent of her teased at his awareness, catching the sweetness of her light scent.
His groin stirred with anticipation. “Aye?”
She looked up at him and blinked her long-lashed eyes. “Someone I find very appealing…”
It would be easy to tuck their bedroll away from others. He wouldn’t want this beauty fast and in the dark. Nay, he’d want to strip her down and run his hands over her skin and get lost in her glorious hair. “Aye?”
She put a hand to the side of her mouth and her lips curled around the half-whispered name. “Reid.”
3
Kinsey almost laughed out loud as Sir William’s face reflected first his confusion, then his surprise. In truth, she wanted nothing to do with any of the men in the small army she’d joined. But she knew asking after Reid would discourage their leader’s obvious interest in her.
Hopefully.
He glanced back at Reid, and Kinsey’s stomach sank to realize the other man had been watching them as well. She might have just swapped one man’s interest for another.
“I see.” Sir William's eyes squinted slightly, his expression unreadable. “I want ye to go to the tavern with me.”
Kinsey swung her gaze back to him, incredulous. Had she not just tried to dissuade his affections?
A smile hovered on his lips, making him look impossibly handsome. Which he no doubt knew.
“We need to gather information on the castle we’ll be attacking,” he said. “I assumed since ye sound so English, ye might be helpful to have with us.”
So he hadn’t meant it with romantic intent. And no doubt he’d intended her to be confused about the invitation. She smirked, refusing to allow him to see his ploy had worked. “Aye, of course.”
“Once we’ve set up camp, we’ll venture into the village.” He gathered his horse’s reins.
“I’ll be ready.”
He winked and strode away, leading his horse with him. She glanced at him as he passed with his easy, confident gait. His shoulders were broad, his waist tapered and hips narrow. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his leine past his elbows, and his forearms were bare, lined with muscle, evidence of his strength.
Damn him. He was attractive. More so than she wanted to admit.
She turned quickly away lest any of his men tell him she was staring. But not before noting that the man had a nice, firm arse.
Damn him.
She gritted her teeth and pulled her bag from her horse. There wasn’t much to it. Two clean kirtles and linens, a comb, some tools to make more arrows and a bit of food.
“Do ye need help with that?” There was a slight crack in the voice, a hint of adolescence, and she knew immediately that it was Fib.
She glanced over her shoulder to find the lad grinning at her. He’d been kind on the journey, explaining with eagerness the routine the men had established, how they trained, what she ought to expect. He was an orphan whose parents had been killed by the English. His grandmother had raised him but died of a deep cough three years prior.
Kinsey had only lost her da, but she still recognized the lad’s deep need for companionship. It was something she understood, something that resonated in her soul.
“Don’t ye go trying to coddle me now.” She grinned at him and tossed her bag over her shoulder before leading her steed to the cave where the men were all tethering their horses. The beast Sir William had provided her with was healthy and well-cared for with a glossy chestnut coat. “I can handle myself well enough.”
Fib laughed, his throat flexing in his long, skinny neck. “Ach, I well know it. But I thought I’d try to be chivalrous.”
“Like a knight,” she teased.
His eyes sparkled. “Aye. Exactly like that.”
“My brother wants to be a knight.” Kinsey smiled to think of Drake, the oldest of the four of them. “I’ve never known someone more chivalrous.”
Fib fell into step at her side. “What makes him that way?”
Kinsey thought on it as she led her horse into the cave where a trough of food and water had been placed. “He puts others first, trying to protect them no matter what.” The way he had with them, ensuring they had shelter, enough food, clothing—even when he had nothing. “And he does what is right.”
“Always?”
It was Kinsey’s turn to laugh. “Aye. Always. It can be terribly annoying.”
“How long do ye think until he becomes a knight?”
Kinsey lifted a shoulder. “He needs the right opportunity.”
But that wasn’t true. Yet another byproduct of English hatred. They would never accept Drake with his Scottish blood and the slight burr of his accent. Yet still, he worked for them, acting as Captain of the Guard for an English earl, one Kinsey had never met and did not care to.
She hated his need to work for them, to degrade himself for the sake of his family to keep them in such accommodating living conditions. Once she was making her own money, fighting as a warrior for Scotland, she would be able to help support Mum and Clara.
“I hope he is knighted,” Fib said earnestly. “It sounds as though he truly deserves it.”
“Aye.” Kinsey switched the topic to horses rather than discuss Drake’s futile hopes any longer. If Fib noticed the abrupt transition, he didn’t complain as he proudly shared how he’d trained his own mare since she was a foal.
He stayed with Kinsey while they brushed down their horses and tethered them in the cave. Once done, they carried their bags to another cave where they were all going to sleep on bedrolls by the fire.
Sir William approached them with a pack, which he handed to Kinsey. “Eat something while the horses rest, then we’ll ride to the tavern at sunset.”
She peered into the bag and found enough bread and cheese for her and Fib as well as a
