“Leave?” he asked. “Lass, I still do nae ken who ye are or why or how we came to be here.”
The fact that he did not remember her was not worrisome. It had been years since last they’d seen one another. And yesterday, he’d been so sloshed he fell from their mount. Still, a small part of her wished he had remembered.
“I be Rianna Coultier.”
* * *
H e would have been less stunned had she claimed to be Venus.
How many years had it been since Ardanaiseig ? ’Twas a lifetime ago. She’d been a wee, cherubic lass of six or seven, with bright green eyes, and a face that seemed to be forever smudged. Out of pity, he had been nice to her one summer’s day. That act of kindness had turned into a friendship: one of the few happy memories of his childhood.
At one time he had considered her family, looked upon her fondly as if she were his little sister. Now she stood before him all grown up. And what a fine looking — nay beautiful — woman she had grown into. Bright green eyes blazed with anger, yet he found he rather liked it. A straight yet delicate nose sat above two full, pink lips that tasted like ambrosia.
It dawned on him then that the gods weren’t smiling favorably upon him. Nay, they’d put this beautiful young woman in his path as another means to taunt him. Nay, she was nothing more than a reminder of all the things he’d missed in life. A reminder of all the things he could never have.
“Are ye well?” she asked, stepping closer. “Ye’ve gone pale.”
The blood had indeed drained from his face. He felt foolish and angry all at once. Especially when she reached out to touch his cheek. He turned it away before she could make contact. “Why are ye here? Why am I here?”
Perplexed, she tilted her head to one side. “Ye truly do nae remember, do ye?”
“I would not have asked ye if I did.”
* * *
R ianna could not understand his sudden change in mood. Why was he so angry?
“Ye remember nothin’ of yesterday?” she asked as she twisted her hand from his grasp.
“I already told ye I did nae.” His words were clipped, harsh.
With a cleansing breath, she steeled her nerves before explaining how she had rescued him from the goal by pretending to be his wife. Thankfully, he listened quietly as she told him the entire story, including how he had slipped from their horse. “When I realized I could nae move ye, I made camp around ye. I even washed the mud from yer face and hands.” She left out the part about how much delight she took in washing his chest and neck. She also neglected to tell him where they were going.
“Why would ye do that?” he asked her, baffled by her tale.
“Ye are my friend. I could nae just leave ye there to rot.” Of course, that was not the only reason. Considering the expression on his face, the ease with which he grew angry, she thought it best to gradually work her way up to that topic.
His expression alone was enough to say he thought her quite daft. “Friend?” he asked as if she’d gone mad.
His question and tone hurt. “Aye, Aiden, ye are my friend. Ye have been since we were children. Or can ye nae remember that either?”
“Rianna, I am nae the same lad I was when last ye saw me,” he told her through gritted teeth.
“And I am nae the same lost little girl ye knew,” she countered. “But none of that matters. Ye were the only true friend I had as a child and for that, I owe you a lifetime of gratitude.” He could not begin to understand, to truly comprehend how much his friendship had meant to her as a little girl. ’Twas doubtful he ever would.
Quietly, she watched as he began to pace back and forth as if trying to figure out some grand mystery. She could not understand why the topic seemed to frustrate him so. When she could take his silence or pacing no longer, she spoke once again. “Aiden, I ken much has happened these many years. We’ve both changed. But one thing that has nae changed and never will, is how grateful
The fact that he did not remember her was not worrisome. It had been years since last they’d seen one another. And yesterday, he’d been so sloshed he fell from their mount. Still, a small part of her wished he had remembered.
“I be Rianna Coultier.”
* * *
H e would have been less stunned had she claimed to be Venus.
How many years had it been since Ardanaiseig ? ’Twas a lifetime ago. She’d been a wee, cherubic lass of six or seven, with bright green eyes, and a face that seemed to be forever smudged. Out of pity, he had been nice to her one summer’s day. That act of kindness had turned into a friendship: one of the few happy memories of his childhood.
At one time he had considered her family, looked upon her fondly as if she were his little sister. Now she stood before him all grown up. And what a fine looking — nay beautiful — woman she had grown into. Bright green eyes blazed with anger, yet he found he rather liked it. A straight yet delicate nose sat above two full, pink lips that tasted like ambrosia.
It dawned on him then that the gods weren’t smiling favorably upon him. Nay, they’d put this beautiful young woman in his path as another means to taunt him. Nay, she was nothing more than a reminder of all the things he’d missed in life. A reminder of all the things he could never have.
“Are ye well?” she asked, stepping closer. “Ye’ve gone pale.”
The blood had indeed drained from his face. He felt foolish and angry all at once. Especially when she reached out to touch his cheek. He turned it away before she could make contact. “Why are ye here? Why am I here?”
Perplexed, she tilted her head to one side. “Ye truly do nae remember, do ye?”
“I would not have asked ye if I did.”
* * *
R ianna could not understand his sudden change in mood. Why was he so angry?
“Ye remember nothin’ of yesterday?” she asked as she twisted her hand from his grasp.
“I already told ye I did nae.” His words were clipped, harsh.
With a cleansing breath, she steeled her nerves before explaining how she had rescued him from the goal by pretending to be his wife. Thankfully, he listened quietly as she told him the entire story, including how he had slipped from their horse. “When I realized I could nae move ye, I made camp around ye. I even washed the mud from yer face and hands.” She left out the part about how much delight she took in washing his chest and neck. She also neglected to tell him where they were going.
“Why would ye do that?” he asked her, baffled by her tale.
“Ye are my friend. I could nae just leave ye there to rot.” Of course, that was not the only reason. Considering the expression on his face, the ease with which he grew angry, she thought it best to gradually work her way up to that topic.
His expression alone was enough to say he thought her quite daft. “Friend?” he asked as if she’d gone mad.
His question and tone hurt. “Aye, Aiden, ye are my friend. Ye have been since we were children. Or can ye nae remember that either?”
“Rianna, I am nae the same lad I was when last ye saw me,” he told her through gritted teeth.
“And I am nae the same lost little girl ye knew,” she countered. “But none of that matters. Ye were the only true friend I had as a child and for that, I owe you a lifetime of gratitude.” He could not begin to understand, to truly comprehend how much his friendship had meant to her as a little girl. ’Twas doubtful he ever would.
Quietly, she watched as he began to pace back and forth as if trying to figure out some grand mystery. She could not understand why the topic seemed to frustrate him so. When she could take his silence or pacing no longer, she spoke once again. “Aiden, I ken much has happened these many years. We’ve both changed. But one thing that has nae changed and never will, is how grateful
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