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“Cal, let’s go,” Sloan said gruffly, stepping in front of him and herding him towards their waiting horses.

“It’s fine, Callan. Please go with Eliza,” Scarlett said, she and Sorin coming to stop by Eirwen. Sorin took the mangled pear from her hands and chucked it into the woods.

As the others mounted their horses, Sorin unhooked a waterskin from the saddle and proceeded to dump water on to her hands, washing the sticky residue of the pear from them. He was wiping them clean and drying them with his cloak when the others rode past them.

Scarlett couldn’t bring herself to meet Callan’s stare, but she felt his eyes on her like a brand.

When they were out of sight and earshot, Sorin spoke. His voice was tense and rough. “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Because you reduced a piece of fruit to pulp with your bare hands,” he answered, turning to reattach the waterskin to the saddle.

“Maybe I was imagining the pear was your head,” she retorted.

Sorin paused for a moment before his long fingers moved to double check all the clasps and ties of the saddle. “Because you hate me?”

“Yes, because I hate you,” Scarlett snapped back. “Although it was a shame to waste a pear. I actually really love those.”

“I know. I have more in the saddlebags for you.”

Scarlett snapped her mouth shut at that reply. She really wished he’d stop saying things like that.

Sorin turned then, and he had a dagger sheath in his hands. He handed it to her along with a shirastone dagger. “Here. You need to be armed today.”

He waited while she wordlessly strapped the sheath to her thigh and slid the dagger into it, then he stepped to the side and motioned for her to mount Eirwen. She reached for the saddle horn, feeling her wound stretch as she did. Sorin’s hands came to her hips to help her up as he had done all day yesterday, but he held her still for a moment. He stepped slightly into her, and she could feel his chest on her back.

“You owe him no explanations, Love,” he said quietly into her ear. “You never need to explain yourself, and as I have said before, you never need to explain or apologize for wanting someone to stop touching you. No one should be touching you without your permission.”

“You touch me all the time without asking,” Scarlett retorted, her fingers tightening on the saddle horn.

She felt him still behind her. He tilted his head slightly and when he spoke this time, she could tell his mouth was a breath from her ear. If he moved at all, his lips would brush her skin. “My apologies, Lady.” She could hear the smile in his voice as she stiffened at the title.“I will no longer touch you without your invitation unless it is an absolute necessity.”

Scarlett swallowed. “Well, that’s a relief.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Am I allowed to help you onto Eirwen, or would you like to risk aggravating your wound by doing so yourself?”

“Oh my gods,” she mumbled.

“Well, what would you like?”

She knew if she turned to look at him, his lips would be quirked up in amusement.

“I would like to change my mind and ride with Eliza,” Scarlett gritted out.

“Liar,” he purred. “May I please help you on to Eirwen?”

Scarlett sighed loudly. “Yes.”

She lifted her foot to the stirrup and felt him hoist her up, lessening the strain on her side as she swung her leg over the saddle and settled in. He was behind her a moment later, but his arm did not curl around her hips as it had all day yesterday. She glanced over and found it settled on his own thigh, while his other hand held the reins in front of her.

“Ready?” he asked.

Scarlett only nodded.

As Eirwen started forward, Sorin dipped his head slightly, but still did not touch her. “But just so we are clear, Love, I fully expect you to be asking me to touch you before we cross the border.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered.