Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 by Heart of the Dragon

draped over the branches above his head.
    Evidently the Dragon didn’t intend his escape to be too easy.
    if Lord Ian wanted a head start on him, he had it. But in the long run, it would not matter. Swen would find him.
    He trusted the Dragon to get Lily away, to keep her safe.
    Swen had done as Llywelyn asked, so far as he was able. But he had no intention of collecting on the debt Llywelyn now owed him.
    Now he would do whatever he could to help the Dragon keep Lily safe.
    From everyone.
    Ian pushed Mouse as hard as he dared, considering that the poor beast carried a double burden. At times, rough terrain kept them to a walk, but they managed to cover a remarkable distance in spite of it.
    He estimated it might be several days before they reached the cave, especially since he planned to avoid settled areas. The farther they remained from civilization, the better their chance of evading Llywelyn’s men. Ian knew it was only a matter of time before Swen freed himself and returned to Dolwyddelan to report that he’d lost possession of Lily; even if the Viking didn’t go to Llywelyn right away, there was always the risk that the prince might learn that Ian hadn’t gone to Rhys’s keep.
    Ian looked down at Lily’s hair, savoring the way the setting sun gilded the coppery stands. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head—scarcely touching her—and settled her sleeping body more comfortably in his arms.
    He couldn’t imagine what it took for her to remain so uncomplaining. His sister Catrin would have harried him nigh unto death if he’d dared to drag her across northern Wales at this headlong pace, and he’d have deserved every word. He was no gentleman, he knew it well, but he did what he had to do. What good were courtly manners if you were dead?
    Since the light was fading, he dismounted, carrying Lily with him, and placed her on his cloak under a tree while he tethered Mouse, then scouted the area for a spot to make camp for the night.
    A stream flowed nearby, and deadwood enough for a small fire lay scattered beneath the trees. He gathered fir boughs and built a small shelter before Lily stirred.
    She appeared confused for a moment, but then she caught sight of him watching her and smiled.
    “How could you let me sleep when there was so much to do?” she asked, attempting to rise.
    One of her legs buckled beneath her, but she reached for the tree trunk beside her, pulled herself up and leaned back against it. ““Tis most unfair for you to do all the work. You must be weary. Sit and rest, milord. I’ll prepare our food.”
    “There’s precious little to prepare,” he told her. He came to her side and urged her to sit, but she would have none of it.
    “I set some snares, so perhaps we’ll catch a rabbit before we starve.” He dropped down on the cloak, leaving plenty of space for her beside him as he lounged there. Though she appeared reluctant, she sat down on the edge of the material.
    “Come, I’ve bread and cheese.”
    She shook her head.
    “Nay, you eat it. I’m not used to eating much, anyway.”
    He picked up her hand and slapped a piece of bread onto it.
    “I was joking, Lily. There’s nothing to cook right now, but we’ve enough food. You needn’t go hungry,” he told her, exasperated by her self-sacrifice.
    She nibbled at the crust, but seemed uneasy.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “Are you worried about spending the night here? I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
    Tossing aside the bread, she leaned toward him.
    “I
    made the trek from Saint Winifred’s to Dolwyddelan by myself.” The flush on her cheeks looked as hot as her voice sounded.
    “Do you think I’d be concerned about something so unimportant as that?”
    He felt properly chastened. He hadn’t meant to insult her courage. God knew, he’d seen evidence of it often enough. But it had been a valid concern.
    “Then what is it?”
    She reached out and placed her hand along his jaw, absently running her fingers