A Warrior's Soul by Aileen Adams

Author:Aileen Adams [Adams, Aileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2018-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

15

Perhaps it wasn’t fair.

This thought struck her more than once as they rode through the day, Fergus behind her with his good arm snug around her waist.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair for her to use his injury—which she had a hand in causing—as a way to get under his brother’s skin.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to feign innocence, to pretend as though she meant only to be of service.

There had been no mistaking Brice’s interest in her the night before, lying next to each other, as they had.

The seed had been planted. It needed only water and sunlight and careful tending to grow into something much larger.

A pang of fear struck her heart. Could she manage something much larger?

She had no experience with men. The previous night had marked the first in which she’d slept beside one of them. Had she not been so thoroughly fatigued, she might have spent half the night fretting over his nearness.

Exhaustion had proven itself a blessing, then.

No, she knew nothing of men. But she recognized jealousy when she saw it, and Brice was jealous of the way she rode with his brother.

Fergus, on the other hand, was either too far gone to notice—thanks to the tincture—or simply did not care that his brother rode several lengths ahead of the rest.

The day was gray, thick with clouds, and considerably cooler than the day before had been. She shivered involuntarily when a breeze blew past.

“Are ye chilled, lass?” Fergus asked.

The wind must have blown his question in Brice’s direction, for his back stiffened not a moment later.

“Aye,” she admitted, “though I’m certain it would be worse were ye not behind me. I’m grateful for your warmth.”

Was it her imagination, or did Brice let out something like a bark? It could have been a laugh—a rather bitter one, if so.

“Ye had both better make certain that warmth isn’t fever,” he called back over his shoulder.

A fair point. Alana looked over her shoulder, up into Fergus’s face. There was no flush on his cheeks, his eyes did not shine as though he were in the grip of fever.

Just the same, she had to be certain. “Whoa,” she murmured, pulling the gelding to a halt.

Quinn rode up beside them. “Why do you stop?”

She held up a finger to signal his silence, then bade Fergus lower his head slightly. She pressed her lips to his forehead, feeling for warmth.

Quinn gasped.

Even Fergus seemed taken aback.

“It is a much better method of testing whether a person is feverish,” she explained, facing forward once again. “The mouth is far more sensitive than the hand.”

Brice was glaring in their direction, having stopped when he noticed they’d come to a halt. “And?” he demanded.

“And, your brother is fine.” She bit the side of her tongue, straining to hold back her laughter.

Quinn’s jaw was all but trailing on the ground, Rodric merely looked pleased to hear that Fergus was doing well, but Brice looked fit to strangle someone.

Fergus was beyond the point of noticing. “You seem to know quite a lot about healing and taking care of others,” he noted.

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