“You are not exactly the enemy.” Nesta waited until they arrived at the lodge to point that out. It seemed an important clarification to make.

“We will see.” He dismounted, pulled her down and carried her into the lodge.

She waited in the dark, balancing on her good foot while she leaned against a rough-hewn log wall. He moved invisibly through the space. A tiny spark flared, and a flame quickly grew. Soon firelight revealed the lodge.

It was of good size to hold a hunting party, but low roofed and rude in construction. Built for shelter and not comfort, it provided little more than a dry place for men to camp.

Marcus found some furs in a corner, and spread them in front of the stone hearth.

She took in those furs, and the man looking too handsome for safety in the light of the fire.

“Actually, Marcus, I am not cold at all anymore. I think we can ride back to Anglesmore tonight.”

He crouched to build the fire with more fuel. The smallest smile softened his mouth. “Your garments are wet, the horses are tired, and the ground is slippery. It will be wiser if we stay here.”

Not wise at all. That little smile had said as much. “You appeared well provisioned for your journey in the mountains. No doubt you intend to sleep under the stars.”

“If the only shelter available was the stars, I would have settled for that. Since my journey has ended, however, I am glad for the warmth of this lodge.” He rose and faced her. “Does the notion of sharing this space with me unsettle you, Nesta?”

“Of course not.” That was a bald lie. “Unsettled” did not begin to describe it.

He came toward her and her good leg wobbled. She made a little hop to regain her balance.

Not bothering to lift her into both his arms, he merely circled her waist with one and swung her to the fire. “Get yourself warm. I don’t want to be explaining how you perished from a chill, so you should remove the wet gown. You can wrap yourself in that large fur until your garments dry. It will be modest enough. Now, I must see to the horses.”

He started to go, but she stopped him. “You said that you followed them. Did you catch a glimpse of Genith? Did she appear well?”

“If Dylan could lose me in those hills, he knows them better than I do. Bards are accustomed to long journeys, and know how to survive the rough lands. Do not fear for your sister.”

He left, and she heard him moving the horses behind the lodge. There would be some shelter there for them, she guessed, and maybe more furs to warm them, too.