The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) by Barbara Longley

to them as she changed into the rough tunic. “Och, but she’s a braw, bonnie lass, is she no’? ’Twas quite provocative to see her dressed as a squire with a sword strapped across her back,” Tieren said aloud.
    “Aye, a braw, bonnie lass who wishes to go home to her own place and time.”
    “We shall see.”
    Cecil rode into their midst, his face pale and drawn. “Let us leave this place anon.” His mare pranced and tossed her head against the tight pull Cecil had on the bit. “Hunter spoke the truth. The fair is no more, nor are there any signs ’twas ever there.” His eyes wild, he stared at all of them. “You saw the wagons and such, aye? Mayhap ’tis true they were never there, and the fae bewitched us all.”
    “We found no sign o’ Nevan or the lads.” Murray gestured to his squire and page to mount their palfreys. “Let us be off. We can talk more freely once we’re well away and camped for the night.”
    Meghan swung herself up on Nevan’s warhorse without aid. Anoth er knightly feat she managed with ease. He shook his head and went for Doireann’s reins. “You saw?” he asked Tieren, who walked beside him.
    “I did,” Tieren whispered. “Who trained her, do you suppose?”
    “Her da. I’ll tell the tale once we camp.”
    “I look forward to it. I’ll take up the rear.”
    Tieren veered off for his own mount, and they were soon upon the road again, traveling in silence. Like him, each of them pondered the events of the day. The air was rife with the speculation and fear coursing through the group. Once again the prickle of premonition skittered over his skin. If only he could discern what it meant. If Meghan had been sent here to save some hapless soul’s life, he could only hope against hope ’twas not his hide she was meant to protect. Surely he was naught in Giselle’s scheme but the means to bring Meghan here.
    He glanced back at her from his place at the head of the line. Deep in thought, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Beleaguered, he blew out a breath. If he didn’t stop her, she’d chew it bloody. “Cecil, take the lead,” he commanded, turning Doireann’s head. He trotted back to flank her mount. “You will tell me where your thoughts lead you.”
    “Will I?” She snorted and blinked at him. Her brow rose. “Just because you command something, it’s a done deal?”
    “For the most part, aye.” That he couldn’t read her emotions frustrated and puzzled him. She was a mystery, and he did not like mysteries. He preferred having the upper hand and being in control of every situation. ’Twas his natural inclination. Those very same tendencies made him a natural leader. She thwarted him, and that rankled. “I canna help you if I dinna ken where your thoughts are leading you, lass. Tell me now.”
    “You feel honor bound to direct my thoughts?” Her eyes widened. “Don’t bother. That kind of control must take an awful lot of energy on your part, and I don’t want to be responsible for exhausting your pea-brain.”
    “I thank you for your concern, my lady. Humor me nonetheless.” Without thought, he placed a finger under her chin. Turning her to face him, he ran his thumb over her lower lip. Ignoring the frisson of excitement touching her caused, he assessed the damage she’d already inflicted. “I fear your lip canna bear much more . . . thought .”
    She jerked away from his touch. “It’s not that big a deal,” she said, keeping her voice to barely a whisper. “I was just remembering what you said about entering the spider’s lair and her sticky web.” She shrugged. “The strands of a spider’s web intersect, right? Robley and Erin spent a lot of time with my family. Robley shared a little of your story when he told us about his clan and family. I know Madame Giselle has played a part in all of your lives. I’m just trying to figure out the whys and wherefores of my current situation.”
    Her expression clouded. “If Giselle