Authors: Hannah Howell
would wander too far away and get lost came and went quickly. The cat had plainly hated being
deserted, and Alana suspected it would stay very close at hand so that it did not get left behind again.
As soon as she had rested for a little while, she would make her final decision on a name for the
beast, she decided and yawned.
“Weary, lass?” Gregor asked as he sat down next to her.
“My feet certainly are,” she admitted.
“Aye, I ken that feeling weel.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. “I
concede. That cat has taken to journeying verra weel indeed,” he said, diverting her attention from
how he held her close before she could venture any protest. “Of course, he hasnae had to do any
walking.”
“True. I have been trying to think of a name for him.” Alana knew she ought to move out of his
grasp, but she realized she had become increasingly greedy for his touch and was far too selfish to
refuse it when it was given. “We cannae keep calling him the cat.”
“He doesnae seem to mind.”
“He is our fellow traveler. He deserves a proper name. Charlemagne will suit him fine, I think.” She
gave Gregor a narrow-eyed look when he made a soft choking noise, for she knew he was
struggling hard not to laugh out loud.
She was about to scold him for laughing at her when she realized he had stopped. He was staring at
her mouth with an expression that caused her heart to race. Alana knew he was going to kiss her.
She also knew she was not going to stop him despite the sharp voice of warning in her mind. She
knew she was playing with fire, but she was too hungry for the heat his kiss stirred to care.
When he teasingly brushed his lips over hers, she heard herself whisper a sound of protest over how
meager the kiss was. As he wrapped his strong arms around her, Alana realized that she was already
far beyond just playing with fire and very close to embracing it wholeheartedly. After this kiss she
would take a few steps back, she promised herself. One more taste of the desire he stirred within her and she would put some much-needed distance between them so that she could think clearly about
how much she was willing to risk for this man.
It was not until Alana felt Gregor’s hand upon her naked breast, his long fingers skillfully
tormenting the aching tip, that she realized she had completely stopped thinking. She struggled to
regain the wit to speak only to hear Gregor curse softly. When he removed his hand, she had to bite
back a protest. The loss of his touch left her feeling chilled and disappointed. Even as she puzzled
over that, he tidied her clothes and sat up, pulling her up with him. The fact that he had put a halt to their lovemaking began to settle in her mind and she flushed with embarrassment. She also felt
highly irritated by the fact that he had so much control over his passion when she obviously had
none at all.
“That wasnae weel done of me,” Gregor murmured as he finished lacing up her bodice.
Alana thought he had done very nicely indeed, and then silently cursed. Her ability to defend her
virtue around Gregor was nearly nonexistent and she should be highly concerned about that, not
thinking about the quality of his lovemaking. And, she suddenly thought, if he was doing something
he felt he had to apologize for, why did he keep doing it? There was no doubt in her mind that he
had a great deal of experience in lovemaking, and she did not believe she was the sort of woman
who caused a man’s senses to be swept away on a wave of passion. Gregor did not look particularly
guilt ridden, either. Just as last time, he mouthed the words but showed little conviction in them.
He was trying to seduce her, she realized, absolutely certain of her sudden decision. Alana was not
sure what she felt about that. It was certainly flattering that such a man would wish to bed her, yet his reasons for doing so might be low and insulting. She was, after all, the only woman at hand. Just the passing thought that he might be making use of her only because she was convenient and female
made her angry, and she glared at him. She might prove fool enough to toss her heart and virtue at
the feet of a man who would break her heart and walk away, but she would not do so for a man who
saw her as nothing more than a female convenient for rutting with.
Gregor watched the vast array of expressions chase over Alana’s delicate features with fascination.
He could only guess at what thoughts raced through her mind. When her eyes narrowed and the
golden brown color turned nearly black, he did not have to have a keen understanding of a woman’s
mind to know Alana was absolutely furious. He just wished he knew which of his many sins had
just angered her so that he could respond correctly to whatever she was about to say and act
properly contrite while doing so.
“Ye are trying to seduce me,” she snapped. “Have ye decided that, since I am within reach, ye may
just as weel try for a wee bit of lustful companionship on your journey?”
Since he could not honestly deny her first statement, he turned his mind upon her second accusation.
He did not need to act offended as he stood up and brushed himself off, for he really did feel
somewhat insulted. “I willnae ask what kind of mon ye think I am that ye could accuse me so, for I
suspicion your answer will only make me angrier. Now, I will give ye a wee bit of privacy whilst I
find us some wood for a fire and, if luck walks with me, something to eat.”
Alana felt guilty as she watched him walk away, and then told herself not to be such a complete fool.
He might not be the callous lecher she had implied with her accusation about using her, but he was
trying to seduce her. As she stood up and sought a place to tend to her personal needs, then washed
up, she decided she would not apologize. She had a perfect right to be angry over his attempts to
seduce her. If he did not like the conclusions she reached as to why he would do so, then he could
tell her why. In truth, she dearly wished he would, for it would certainly make it easier for her to
decide what to do concerning the desire she felt for him.
By the time they had finished dining on the rabbit Gregor had caught, Alana had discovered that
Gregor could hold tightly to a pout. She had been within a heartbeat of apologizing for her words to
ease the chill between them when he began to act more as he had before that confrontation.
Relieved, she made no complaint when he arranged only one bed near the small fire. It was also
becoming a habit for her to sleep with Gregor curled up against her back and the cat curled up
against her chest. Exhausted from a full day of walking, she cuddled up against Gregor, wrapped
her arm around the cat, and went to sleep.
Gregor sighed as he felt Alana relax in sleep. Her delightfully curved backside was pressed hard
against his groin, tempting him and keeping his desire stirred. He was a little disappointed that she had offered no apology for thinking he would use her as if she were some alehouse wench one
could have for a coin or two, but decided he was partly to blame for that suspicion. He gave her no
words that would allow her to judge his feelings more correctly.
Alana did not see herself as desirable to a man so, naturally, she would question his desire for her.
The way she spoke of herself had told him that days ago. He would have to try harder to make her
believe that he found her very desirable indeed. Simply making love to her would not be enough to
convince her of that, no matter how sweet it was. If he was to gain the prize he hungered for, he was going to have to do more than pleasure her body. He was going to have to win her mind and heart.
He was going to have to work hard to win what he ached for. As he rested his cheek against her soft
hair and lightly cupped his hand over her breast, Gregor decided it would be well worth the effort.
Chapter 8
It was a pretty little village, Alana mused as she stood on a small hill beside Gregor and stared
down at the tidy collection of houses. She inwardly sighed when Gregor put his arm around her and
held her closer to his side. She knew what game he continued to play with his constant touching and
his kisses. He was still trying to seduce her. Alana was not sure how she felt about the fact that he was succeeding. It was disheartening to know that she was so close to succumbing to his seduction
after only four days. She would have thought that a man, even one as handsome as Gregor, would
have to offer more than pretty words and heated kisses to get her to relinquish her virtue. Obviously, she had been sadly mistaken.
Charlemagne meowed softly and Alana absently scratched his ears. She looked at Gregor, who
scowled down at the village. It was clear that he was not eager to enter it. They both had a few coins, each having hidden some within their clothing and safe from the Gowans. She could not believe his
hesitation was because they could not afford a night at an inn and a few supplies. Since they had
been traveling for four long days, she could not believe they were still upon the Gowans’ lands,
either. The Gowans had not appeared rich enough to own so much land.
She had several reasons for wanting to enter the village Gregor watched so warily. It was hard not
to beg the man at her side to let her go to the inn she could see so that she could have a hot bath.
Alana also wanted something to eat beside roasted rabbit. She knew she was spoiled, that there were
many people who would think themselves blessed if they had any meat at all to set upon their table,
but she really was growing heartily sick of rabbit.
“Do we go into the village or creep around it?” she finally asked.
“We cannae still be on Gowan land,” Gregor muttered.
“I wouldnae have thought so. If they owned so much land, they would be as rich as kings.”
“And if we go down there, we may finally be able to gain some idea of exactly where we are.”
“Aye, and that would be most helpful.” She knew he was just speaking his thoughts aloud as he
tried to come to some decision, but Alana hoped he would be quick about it.
“And I am heartily sick of rabbit.”
“Och, aye,” she agreed with far more force than she had intended to.
Gregor laughed, kissed her on the cheek, and started down the hill. “We shall take a chance,” he
said, “although what these good folk will think of a lass carrying a cat around like a bairn, I dinnae ken.”
Alana ignored that. “Do ye think I could have a bath?”
“Aye, I believe that between us we have enough coin for a bath, a meal, and, if ’tis as safe as it
looks, a room for the night. ’Twill be a pure pleasure nay to sleep upon the ground for a night.”
A room? Alana thought, but did not say anything. She suspected there were a lot of good reasons to
get only one room, and since they had been sharing a bed since she had joined him in the oubliette,
it was foolish to fret over it now. There was probably not enough money for the luxury of two
rooms anyway.
By the time they reached the tiny inn in the heart of the village, Alana was tired of all the startled, even wary, looks cast her way. She knew it was because of the cat she carried. Sadly, her chest was
not the sort to get so much attention, she mused with a little smile and then scowled at a gawking
lady. She did not understand why people thought it so odd that she carried Charlemagne with her. A
lot of people traveled with animals, and a cat was not made to walk for mile after mile. She stood
beside Gregor as he bartered for a room, food, and a bath with the round-bellied innkeeper, who
kept staring at Charlemagne.
“The cat, too?” the man asked.
“Aye, Master Dunn, the cat, too,” replied Gregor. “’Tis my lady’s pet and verra weel behaved.”
“Is it hurt? Is that why ye be carrying it about like that, m’lady?” Master Dunn asked Alana.
“Nay, it isnae hurt,” replied Alana. “Cats cannae trot along beside ye for miles like a dog can, aye?
So I carry him. He doesnae weigh much.” She inwardly cursed as the man gave Gregor what was
obviously a manly look of commiseration for having to deal with womanly nonsense.
“I have clean beds, ye ken,” Master Dunn said. “I dinnae be wanting them infested with fleas.”
Alana was about to protest that slander against her cat when she saw a dog walking toward them, a
very large, very ugly dog. Afraid she was about to find herself in the midst of a squabble between
the dog and Charlemagne, she tensed, readying herself to try and protect the cat. A slight movement
in the sling drew her gaze downward. Charlemagne was hiding deep in the sling and lying very still.
The dog sat down by the innkeeper’s side and showed no sign that it knew there was a cat so close
at hand.
“The cat is verra clean,” Gregor assured Master Dunn as he looked at the dog and then glanced at
the sling. “He is also a complete coward,” he murmured.
“Thank God,” whispered Alana and ignored Gregor’s grin.
After another few moments of bargaining, the man led them up the stairs to a room. Alana set her
pack down and, after making certain the dog had not followed them up the stairs, set Charlemagne
down on the bed. She looked around the room and subtly checked the cleanliness of the bed as the
bath was brought in. It was a plain room, but the innkeeper had not made an idle boast when he had
claimed it was clean. She peered out the window and saw that they had a good view of the inn yard,
something that could prove very useful. When Gregor stepped up behind her, she looked over her