share anything with the likes of ye, Forbes?"
Because he was charming and manly and handsome, he reminded himself. "Because ..." Roderic, tried not to stare at her leg. But no matter where he looked, her sensuality shook his repose. "Because the Forbeses are oft in need of good horses of war. And because we have ties to powerful families who share our need." She stared at him intently. He warmed to the subject, seeing her interest. "With Leith's marriage to Fiona, some ties have been formed in England. And the French are na unknown to us."
Her hands tightened on the reins. Lochan irritably flipped his tail at the increased tension. "The French are not unknown to me, either." There was anger in her eyes. Was it her hatred for him that caused it, or was this emotion for a different reason? "In truth, many of our steeds were brought from that country. So ye see, if we should wish to sell our mounts, we, too, have contacts."
"But how would ye get them there, lass? Have ye the manpower to see their safe delivery to a port? A knight is na a knight without a fine steed. They cost dear and many would kill for them, as ye well ken."
She laughed, but the sound was harsh. "Ye think I do not realize this? Ye think I turn my steeds out to run wild on the heath. Nay! I have them well guarded. But 'tis said the Forbeses like a challenge. 'Twas dusk when ye attacked my men and stole my beasts."
"It was na the Forbeses." He had not meant to argue, for he knew he could not convince her otherwise. Not yet. But the words slipped from him, low and earnest. "It was na me clan's doings."
Their gazes clashed.
"Ye lie," she said finally and urged the stallion away.
Without a second thought, Roderic reached out to grasp her thigh. She halted the gray and stared at his hand. "Were ye planning to keep those fingers, Forbes?"
"Do ye care so little for yer people, then?" he asked, ignoring her threat. "They be all but starving, lass. Yet, I begin to think yer horses could save them, if ye could but combine yer Lochan's agility and training with the great destrier's size and might. Tell me of yer horses, Flanna. Show me yer steeds. Convince me of the superiority of yer breeding stock, and I will do what I can to assure the return of yer animals."
"And why would I trust the word of a Forbes?"
Her tone was breathless, as if she barely dared to hope. He was trapped in her eyes, but suddenly a mischievous gust of wind tossed a long lock of her hair over her shoulder and onto his hand. It was as bright as the sunrise and as soft as a smile. For an instant, Roderic's breath halted in his throat, for they seemed suddenly to be connected somehow, bound together by those few fiery strands of hair.
Flame, too, held her breath. Their gazes met with a jolt. Roderic's fingers burned between the heat of her thigh and the softness of her hair. But in a moment, she exhaled sharply and pushed his hand away before straightening. Still, she did not manage to draw herself from his eyes. Neither did she move.
"I swear it on me father's grave," Roderic said solemnly. "Convince me of the superiority of yer steeds, and I will do me best to see that they are returned to ye."
"Then ye no longer deny raiding our herds?"
"To the contrary," Roderic said. "I am but promising ta see justice done."
"The word of a Forbes is of little use to me," she said, quickly turning her face away. "For 'twas they who promised to be our allies. And 'twas they that took our stock and killed our kin."
"I swear it on me father's grave," he repeated.
She turned her gaze slowly back to his. "So be it." Her tone was utterly sober and her expression the same. "I will accept yer word as a sacred vow.
"Troy." She turned to the huge warrior behind him. "Ye are a witness. I will show Forbes our steeds. Ye must make certain he does not escape while I do so."
"Aye, lass," rumbled Troy. Placing a hand on Roderic's arm, he turned him around. "Do ye promise na ta run off, Forbes?"
Roderic raised
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