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“I am Davina.”
“James.”
“Aye, I know.”
He stood, then reached out his hand to help her gain her feet. She frowned in puzzlement, then blushingly placed her bare hand in his. James could feel the delicate bones of her fingers as he drew her upward. For a wicked instant he thought to pull her off balance, so she would need to steady herself against his body, but he resisted such an unchivalrous notion.
“I salute yer strength and courage in the face of yer grief,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “There are so many in this world that know the anguish of real suffering. I can hardly place myself among their numbers, fer I have been provided shelter, food, and protection. I know I am viewed as a burden by my relatives, but they have not shirked their duties and fer that I am truly grateful. Rarely a day passes that I do not miss my parents, and yet I know that I am a fortunate woman.”
Her words were honestly spoken, yet there was a touch of yearning in her voice, edged with sadness. He had been blessed with loving parents, raised within the security of a proud, noble clan. She had been taken in by relations because they felt it was their Christian duty and obviously keenly felt that obligation. Yet she had not succumbed to self-pity, but instead had risen above it.
“I will provide ye escort back to camp,” he said commandingly.
Her eyes startled and she lowered her chin. “I dinnae wish to impose, Sir James.”
“’Tis my duty.”
“Duty?” Her lips pursed in confusion.
“Aye. To aid a beautiful lady in distress. I beg ye not to deny me the chance to act the noble knight.”
“We are but a short distance from camp,” she protested even as he hoisted her onto his mount.
She instinctively pressed her knees against the horse’s flanks to keep from falling and James admired the shapely outline of her legs as the skirt of her simple gown tightened around them.
“A fair maiden should ride whenever possible,” he said before executing a low bow. “Especially one as lovely as ye.”
He was flirting and saw the moment she realized it. Her eyes rounded with surprise, but to his delight, he saw an impish glint enter them. His instincts had proven correct—she was gentle and refined, yet hardly a prudish female. A bubble of amusement rose to his lips and he smiled.
Davina dipped her chin, then smiled back.
He lifted the filled buckets and looped the rope handles over the saddle pommel. Then James placed his foot in the stirrup and vaulted behind Davina. She gave a startled cry, but held her seat. Unused to the extra weight, the horse neighed and tossed his head, but James soon had the animal under control.
He allowed the horse to begin ambling toward camp before casually placing the reins in his right hand and encircling Davina’s small waist with his left arm.
“Relax,” he said softly, as he drew her slowly against his chest.
She stiffened for a moment, then he heard her release a soft, sweet sigh. A surge of passion pulsed through his veins. Holding his breath, James waited to see what she would do next. Then, to his utter delight, she followed his command and pressed—nay nuzzled—herself into his embrace.
James closed his eyes in heavenly delight as he breathed in her enticing scent. Aye, traveling to the Armstrong castle might prove to be a far more delightful task than he had the right to expect.
A few days later Davina admitted the daylight hours in the saddle no longer made her tired and sore, while the nights sleeping in a crowded tent no longer left her restless and weary. And the explanation for that change was very simple—James McKenna.
The young knight had proven to be a delightful distraction, regaling her with amusing tales and insightful observations. She enjoyed his company tremendously and looked forward to their time together with an eagerness that surprised and excited her.
“I saw ye talking with Sir James again this morning before we broke camp,” Joan snipped as she pulled her mount alongside Davina’s. “What can he possibly have to say to ye?”
Davina dipped her chin shyly, ignoring the trace of spite spilling over her cousin’s casual remark. Joan was a beautiful young woman, used to receiving the lion’s share of attention whenever men were present. Though not openly rude—for Davina was convinced her gallant knight incapable of such pettiness—’twas obvious to all, and especially Joan, that Sir James preferred Davina’s company to that of her cousin.
“Sir James had drawn a map in the dirt,” Davina replied. “He was merely showing me how much farther we needed to travel before reaching home.”
Joan’s eyes narrowed. “Ye were cackling like a hen laying an egg. How can a map in the dirt be so funny?”
“James has a gift. He can make anything fun and amusing.”
“What a perfectly useless accomplishment,” Joan sneered. “I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked that ye would be drawn to that sort of man, but I had hoped ye would have more sense.”
