Dangerous by Julia Hawthorne Page B

taken you from your own home to a fate I don’t wish to consider,” he replied darkly. “My only regret is that I cannot kill him again.”

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Elisabeth glanced up as someone paused before her. Eric stood beside her chair, her heavy mantle held open in his hands. So handsome was he with a length of Redmond plaid tossed carelessly back over his shoulders. Worn over gray trews, the creamy tunic and doublet accented the deep blue of his eyes.
    Of late, those eyes had been dulled by fatigue and worry. His devotion to her cost him dearly, yet he’d prepared for a walk in the damp, chilly air. Such a maze was he, it would surely take an entire lifetime to understand him.
    “Is there something you wanted?” she asked.
    “During breakfast, you mentioned needing linen and cording. I thought perhaps you’d like to go to the village and get them.”
    “I hardly require an escort for a short walk down the hill.”
    “With respect, Lady Redmond, you do.”
    She raised a defiant chin. “I do not.”
    He dropped to his knee and balanced a massive forearm across his thigh. “I understand that you detest my trailing after you, but ’tis the only way I know to keep you safe. If you’ve another suggestion, I’ll gladly listen.”
    In truth, she didn’t mind him trailing after her. She only wished he’d do it of his own accord rather than as her paid protector. “It’s been a fortnight since Dumont was here, and nothing more has happened.”
    “That doesn’t mean the danger to you is past. Often, an opponent will draw back to regain his strength while he plots his next attack. This man has expended considerable effort to take you, and I don’t believe he’d surrender so easily.”
    She heard the meaning beneath his cautious words. “You mean he won’t stop until he has me.”
    The hand balanced on his leg curled into a tight fist, his eyes blazing like furious sapphires. But when he spoke, his gentle tone brushed away some of her fear.
    “I swear to you, milady, no one will take you from Caileann against your wishes.”
    Because it was Eric, she believed his grim vow. For good or ill, he was a man who’d proven he would do whatever was necessary to protect her. While she didn’t always approve of his methods, she couldn’t deny feeling comforted by the fierce warrior’s dedication to keeping her safe.
    Out in the bailey, she cast a longing look toward the stable nestled against the far wall. “I haven’t taken Cassandra anywhere in ages. I visited her this morn with her favorite apple treats, and she was delighted to see me. When I left without saddling her, she looked so crestfallen, I felt horrible.”
    “If you wish to go riding, perhaps the soldiers will allow you to use their training corral.”
    His suggestion was a sound one, but plodding about in circles didn’t appeal to her. She missed the freedom she’d once enjoyed to go where she pleased, when she wished to go. At the risk of sounding petulant, she let out a resigned sigh. “It’s not the same.”
    “You’re obviously very fond of her,” he said, clearly attempting to lift her spirits by a change of topic. “Have you owned her long?”
    “She was a wedding gift from my late husband. One of many, but the only one I kept.”
    “Might I make a suggestion?”
    Glancing over at him, she nodded. “Of course.”
    “You may find it better to remember those days while you learn to live in this one.”
    She considered him for a long moment and in spite of her dark mood, she smiled. “Eric Jordanne, I think you have the heart of a poet. How did it come to rest inside such a fierce warrior?”
    “I’ve no idea. A legacy of my father, perhaps.”
    “Who was he?”
    “I’ve no idea. He was a Spanish troubadour who visited Marchet one year. Even my mother knew only his first name, Leandro.” He added a soft chuckle. “That, and he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.”
    “Like his son.”
    Eric glanced down at