A Warrior's Promise by Donna Fletcher

encourage her to pursue her interest, see what she learned. And she would do that, though it wasn’t only the Highlander that intrigued. It was how she was beginning to feel around him.
    She almost snorted in disgust with even the mere thought that she could possibly find him attractive. She hadn’t even known where the foolish thought had come from or when she had first realized it. But there it was; she found the mighty warrior attractive.
    She rolled on her back, refusing to lay eyes on him any longer. That he was a fine-looking man was undeniable, but there was no time for her to be having such thoughts. Another time, another place, perhaps she could justify her interest in him, but not now.
    Love waits for no one.
    It seemed that every time there was a matter that concerned her, her father’s teachings would pop up to guide her. But love and attraction were two different things.
    It begins with attraction.
    Her father enjoyed repeating the story of the first time he had seen her mother and how her beauty had drawn him like a moth to a flame. His appetite had waned, food of no importance to him, and he had stammered, unable to find the right words when he had first spoken to her.
    That certainly didn’t apply to Charlotte. She ate whatever food was offered, and she had no trouble speaking or voicing her opinion to Bryce. So she supposed she didn’t have to worry about being on the precipice of falling in love.
    She turned again, this time away from the fire, staring into the darkness. It had been just her and her da for so long that she could not imagine it any other way, though . . .
    She sighed. She would dream now and again of falling in love, and her da so often had encouraged her to find love.
    She had once asked him how she should do that.
    He had scratched his head, then shaken it. “I do not believe there is a satisfactory answer to that question.”
    She sighed again and turned around, her backside toasty and her front needing warmth, a chill having filled the night. She stilled, caught in the glare of Bryce’s wide-open eyes.
    â€œAre you going to settle down now and sleep?”
    â€œI thought you were asleep.”
    â€œYour whining interrupted my slumber.”
    â€œI was not whining,” she said, though worried that perhaps her sighs did sound more like whines.
    â€œThen what was it?”
    â€œYawns,” she said, thinking quickly.
    Bryce eyed her skeptically. “Could be that your loud yawns are keeping us both awake.”
    â€œAnd what about talking? Doesn’t that contribute to not being able to sleep?”
    â€œYou let your mouth run before you think. Not a wise choice.”
    â€œSome things are so obvious they need no thought,” she said with a smile.
    â€œYour cocky confidence has already gotten you into an altercation that left you bruised and—”
    â€œVictorious.”
    â€œIn pain,” he corrected.
    â€œThat’s to be expected when one defends oneself or another,” she said, recalling the few altercations she had gotten into over the years, more so in defense of her father than herself.
    Bryce went to respond, but Charlotte spoke up first.
    â€œI’m tired, and all your chatter is keeping me awake.” With that, she yanked the wool blanket up over her shoulders and shut her eyes. She waited for a reprimand, but none came though sleep came quickly.
    B ryce had warned her repeatedly before they entered the village that she was to remain by his side. This time she paid heed to his orders. Neither the village nor the villagers were as well kept as the last one they had visited. Most eyed them suspiciously, and none offered a greeting.
    Thankfully, there were no signs of soldiers, but how to find Old John when it didn’t appear that anyone would be forthcoming with information was another matter.
    â€œNot a friendly lot,” Bryce muttered.
    Charlotte recalled the reason Elsa had visited