Page 28 of Outlaw (Medieval Trilogy 3)

She felt him before she saw him. Though she’d not heard the flap move, she sensed his presence.

“I wouldn’t,” he said.

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Come, Megan, act not like I’m a fool. You are not the first prisoner I’ve kept.”

“And I thought I was a guest,” she mocked, turning to face him in the blackness that was the tent. Could the man see in the dark? Did he have the hearing of her father’s dogs?

“ ’Tis time to sleep.” His voice was soft and patient and she wanted to crumple into a heap rather than think him kind. His hand reached for hers and she wanted to yank her fingers away.

“Do not touch me,” she said, walking the short distance to the pallet. “Leave me alone.”

“Nay, Megan, I stay.”

“But you can’t!”

“ ’Tis my tent.”

“But—”

“My camp, my rules. Lie down, woman, and argue not. I’m tired and have no patience left.” He dropped her hand, snagged a rug from the bed, and sat on the ground, propping himself against the bags.

“The men, they will think that we … you and I—”

“What matters what they think?” he said around a yawn. “They are not gossiping old hags who will tattle to your husb

and.”

She tried a new tack. “I won’t be able to sleep with you in here.”

“You weren’t sleeping before.”

“But I’ll … I’ll be restless.”

“Not I,” he said, stretching one arm over his head. “Now, either you lie down alone right now, or I’ll come over to the bed and lie with you.”

Her throat turned to dust at the thought of him sleeping next to her, his arms holding her against the hard contours of his body, his breath warm as summer wind against the back of her neck.

“ ’Twould be pleasant,” he said.

“Nay.”

“Once again, Megan, you have a choice.”

Reluctantly she lay down, thinking she couldn’t sleep a wink with him so close. Her thoughts would run wild, her mind spin in restless circles, her heart pound with fear. She dragged a fur around her body and within minutes her muscles turned liquid and she closed her eyes, not to open them again until the first light of dawn had broken over the hills to the east and the inside of the tent was filled with a gray light.

He was already awake and watching her, his blue eyes trained on her face, his expression less harsh than before. If anything, she saw puzzlement in his gaze rather than hatred. She blinked and the ghost of a smile played upon his thin lips. “Aye,” he said, rubbing his beard-stubbled jaw. “You slept nary a wink.”

Feeling foolish, she sat upright and held a fur blanket to her chest as if to cover herself, though she was fully dressed in his clothes.

“Everyone here in the camp earns his keep,” he said, rocking to his feet and standing. She’d forgotten how imposing he was, how his mere presence filled the tent.

“Aye.”

“Peter looks after the horses, Jagger tends to the weapons, even young Robin hunts and fishes.”

“And what do you do?” she threw out.