Chapter Nine #3
He edged closer. “I don’t want to start over.
I’m quite happy with the short history we share.
” His smoldering eyes made her legs weak.
“You’ll change into a gown because your father would disapprove of what you’re wearing.
” He pressed his body against hers and whispered near her ear. “And so do I.”
She gritted her teeth. The happy reunion had turned into something else. His chance to manage her life. “And what shall I wear?”
Amelia stepped forward, leather bag in hand.
“The maids living at the camp donated three dresses,” Aaron said. “Pick one and go behind those trees and change.”
Her gaze traveled from Aaron to the thicket he’d indicated. “I’ll do as you ask.” Her maid gave her the satchel.
“And while you’re clearing your mind,” Jarl McNally added. “Please consider telling me the real reason you left home.”
Wasn’t he listening to anything she’d said before? “I told you already, I was on my way to visit my cousin in the northlands.”
“You expect me to believe that you coincidently headed in the same direction I was going?”
“Yes.” She bit her lower lip. Did he suspect she’d really set out hoping to find him? Her shoulders drooped. She wanted to go home. “Tell me, where am I going?”
“With me.”
A surge of excitement and fear overtook her. She’d prayed for time alone with him. Now that she had it, well, she wasn’t sure what to do.
“Sir . . .” They both faced Tayte. “We should go, milord.”
Aaron inspected the sky. “Aye, tis late,” he agreed. “Hurry.” He gave her a gentle push.
Kara walked to the trees. What kind of pigheaded man thought about what a woman should wear in the middle of a fight?
Only Aaron McNally.
Aaron didn’t know whether he should be angry or not. Half the purpose for insisting she wear a gown was to protect her from his own wandering gaze. And his men’s.
For several tense moments, she stared at him.
He’d given easy terms. Change. It wasn’t open for negotiation.
He’d spent enough time with her sire to know what kind of stubborn will she had—speaking without considering the consequences first and self-righteousness.
Admirable traits in a jarl, but not his bloody daughter.
Minutes later, she emerged, wearing a burgundy gown with a snug bodice. Christ. Now he’d be forced to stare at her breasts, instead of ogling her backside.
She walked right up to him and dropped the bag at his feet. She was holding her braies and leather shirt. “Approve?”
“You look lovely.”
“Milady.” Amelia reached for her clothes.
Kara pulled back. “I’ll keep these.”
“If we had time,” Aaron said. “I’d burn them.”
“Why? If you take my clothes away from me, I’ll have nothing left that reminds me of the freedom I’ve enjoyed most of my life.”
“That’s the first wholly honest thing I’ve heard you say.”
“Do you know what it’s like growing up in the shadow of brothers?
No mother or sisters to love. I can do so much more wearing breeches.
Ride astride, run, climb, and fight. I walk with confidence when I wear them.
In gowns, no matter how pretty, I feel foolish.
I’ve had little use for poise and grace—the traits my father suddenly claims he’s deprived me of. ”
“Maybe he finally came to his senses,” Aaron offered, but not unsympathetically.
She wiped her face with her hand. “Besides, you try riding in a skirt and experience the unpleasantness of a cold, Norwegian draft between your legs.”
They shared a quick, dry laugh.
Vanity—she possessed a healthy portion just like him. “Let us make peace,” Aaron suggested. “Where are your horses?”
She frowned. “Traded or maybe even eaten by Erling’s men.”
They would have to ride double. Not that he didn’t welcome the chance to get close to her, but she’d protest. “Come.” Aaron walked to his horse, patted its neck, then mounted.
A soldier helped Amelia get situated. As Aaron had anticipated, Kara bypassed him and approached Tayte. “Is this your beast?”
Looking a bit confused, the captain nodded. “You cannot ride with me.”
“Why?” she asked innocently.
Aaron rode alongside them. “What are you doing, Kara?”
“Waiting.”
“I can see that.” He sighed. “Why?”
“To ride this handsome animal.”
“This very one?”
She ground the tip of her boot in the dirt. “Yes.”
He chuckled, spinning his horse around. Then, without warning, he leaned sideways in the saddle and scooped her up. He plopped her down in front of him. “Comfortable?”
“Let me down.”
“Easy.” He clamped an arm about her waist. “This is where you belong.”
Her eyes were cold blue steel when she attempted to swing her right leg over the saddle. “At least I can get comfortable.”
He blocked her leg. “No.”
She made a growling noise. “My maid is riding astride.”
He itched to give her a spanking because he knew she would fight him at every turn.
Whether it involved her clothing or where she sat, Kara Dalgaard couldn’t behave.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I see.” He shrugged noncommittally.
“And what does this have to do with your present arrangement?”
Her hands fisted at her sides.
“Let me be clear,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes. “The next time you straddle something, it won’t be a bloody horse.”