The Prince and I by Karen Hawkins Page A

better plan would be to allow him to accompanyher at least a small way, and—if she were subtle—find out what he knew. Perhaps I will discover what is happening at Rowallen.
    She nodded at the path ahead. “This runs into a trail. If you find it and go north, it will take you to the main road that leads to Rowallen. It will be much quicker than the road you were upon.”
    “Ah. Problem solved.”
    “Yes, but the trail isna well marked. Perhaps I should walk with you a bit, and show you the way. Once you see where it joins the main trail, you can return and show your men.”
    “Very good. Show me this trail.”
    She turned and walked on, the prince falling into step beside her. For a few moments, they walked in silence. He held back branches that barred their path, and placed a hand on her elbow when they had to scramble over some rocks.
    All in all, it was rather pleasant having a companion near her own age. She snuck a glance at his profile. He was far too handsome for his own good. And for hers.
    “I hope your home is close,” he said. “It is not safe after dark. There are brigands in the woods.”
    She fought a grin. “Och, yes. Everyone is talking aboot them.”
    “They are evil creatures. Dirty, malodorous—you would not wish to meet them in the middle of the night.”
    Her smile disappeared. “I’m sorry . . . did you say they were malodorous ?”
    He curled his nose. “I had an encounter with them afew days ago and cannot get the stench from my nostrils.”
    What a ridiculous accusation! But she couldn’t say anything without admitting she was one of them. She said through tight lips, “I doubt the brigands will pay any attention to me. They willna expect me to have anything worth taking, so I’ll be safe.”
    “That, I cannot believe.” His gaze flickered over her. “You’re an attractive woman, and these men were the lowest forms of thieves I’ve ever met—brutal, barbaric, and vicious.”
    She ducked under a low branch, fighting to keep the outrage from her voice. “They canna be too vicious. They’ve harmed no one.”
    “They are animals. Despite my grandmother’s pleading, they demanded her basket of food.” He scowled, his expression stern. “What sort of person takes food from a hungry, frail old woman?”
    When he put it that way, it did sound rather horrible. She felt guilty for having enjoyed the roasted chicken quite so much. “Perhaps they were hungry themselves. It is coming onto winter, and a longer, colder fall we’ve never had.”
    “I doubt it. They were all very fat.”
    She came to a complete halt. “ Fat? ”
    “ Da . With huge bellies and dirty hands.” He bent to remove a burr from the side of his boot. “They were incompetent, too. Obviously very new at their profession. Amateurs, really.”
    Amateurs? Murian’s back could get no stiffer.
    The prince straightened, dropping the burr to theground. “But that’s no surprise, considering the leader of this band. He was—how you say . . . ?” He patted his arm. “No strength. Like a sick kitten.”
    Bloody hell, I’ll show him how strong I am! She wished she had her rapier with her now. “I heard a verrah different story aboot this thief. I heard he was quite the fighter and handled his rapier like a master.” Because she had , damn it.
    “Hardly. I beat him well and good.” He smirked, making her want to box his ears. “I barely nicked him, and he squealed like a stuck pig.”
    I didn’t squeal! Not once! She fisted her hands in a futile effort to keep her temper.
    The prince continued, “It was over quickly, of course. Battles with such lackwits usually are. After flashing his tiny sword, he begged for mercy.”
    “ Begged ?” Her voice cracked on the word.
    “ Da . He almost wept in happiness when I allowed him to leave unscathed. Well, except for his ear. I cut it off, you know.”
    “You dinna,” she said firmly.
    “ Da , I did. One cut and . . .” He waved his hand, slicing