Timeless Tales of Honor by Suzan Tisdale, Kathryn Le Veque, Christi Caldwell Page A

tunic but said nothing.
    “Lass, I ken it hurts like the devil. ’Tis right fer ye to say it does,” Duncan told her.
    Aishlinn forced a smile to her face. Yes, it did hurt like the devil, but she had learned at a young age that the only thing complaining got you was a slap to the back of your head. Or worse. “Aye.” It was all she could think to say as she tried to stand.
    He studied her closely for a moment and realized she was quite a remarkable young woman. She complained not of anything and did her best to behave bravely. There was not one woman who came to his mind, who could have endured what this lass had, and still manage to hold on to her composure and pride. He also took note that she was doing her best to not be a bother to them. He tried to give her a moment or two to walk on her own. He saw no sense in allowing Aishlinn to try to force her body to do something it was not quite capable of doing just yet. Duncan scooped her up in his arms and headed towards the horses. There would be time, soon enough, when she wouldn’t need to be carried to and fro. Today wasn’t that time.
    “Really, Duncan,” she told him. “I do know how to walk. I believe I mastered that task right around the age of one!” If they would only give her but a minute, she would be able to convince her legs to move on their own accord.
    “Aye. I’m sure ye did lass. But I’d rather not wait while ye relearn it! We need to ride away from this place and get to Dunshire quickly.” He quashed a smile that had formed when she began to protest again. “Lass, I’ll damn well carry ye if I damn well choose. Ye be in no condition to argue the point.” He handed her to Rowan and mounted his horse.
    “How long do you plan on carrying me wherever I need or wish to go?” she asked him. Rowan handed her up to Duncan who sat her gently upon his lap before wrapping the blankets around her. “Until I grow weary of it.” He cast her a look, that had she known him better, would have warned her not to argue the point.
    “I’m not quite as helpless as you might think, Duncan McEwan,” she huffed at him, refusing to allow him to place her head upon his chest. Although she did rather enjoy that spot, she was growing quite frustrated. Not with Duncan or his men, but with her own inability to walk unassisted.
    Duncan nudged his horse along. “Yer not?” he said. “Then do ye care to find yer way to Dunshire alone?” He was not about to abandon her, but she didn’t need to know that at the moment.
    Her eyes flew open and her mouth clamped shut. He could see the fire begin to rise in her eyes; deep dark green eyes the color of heather right before it bloomed. “If you did choose to leave me here, I can assure you I am quite capable of finding my way about. My father did not raise me to be an addle-headed woman, incapable of finding her way to the end of the road and back.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. He returned her scowl with one of his own and she had to admit, his was far more intimidating.
    “Lass, I’ll thank ye no’ to try my patience this day.” He was not used to people questioning him. But he had to admit he did admire her tenacity.
    ’Twas then that Aishlinn noticed he had a very handsome face. He had full lips that she imagined might be quite warm and soft. Her wandering mind had caught her completely off guard when she thought of how those lips might feel if they were to touch her own. She was never one to daydream of such things! Well, at least not very often. Disheartened, she shrank from the realization that plain women such as she did not receive kisses from men like him.
    When she noticed Duncan smiling at her apparent submissiveness, she sat upright. ’Twas agony to do it, for her ribs and back still ached. But she did not want him to think she would cower every time he might cast a scowl her way. “What about tomorrow?” she asked as she forced a sweet smile to her lips. “Would that be more to your