Something he knew he could manage . . . with a lot of effort. But, stil . . . manageable.
“So what did you do in town?” Rhona asked once they were wel on the road.
“Got information,” he said, final y able to pul the hood of his cape off his head. It had begun to annoy him.
“Information? I thought you’d never been to this town before.”
“I haven’t, but you can always find out information. You just need to know the kind of places to go and the kind of people to ask.”
“I’m impressed. I always seem to be the last one anyone sends out for information.”
“Because you’re such a soldier that you can’t help but look like you’re interrogating someone.” She laughed. “Thank you very much!”
He bumped her with his elbow. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”
“You didn’t mean that I’m a vil ainous soldier that terrifies the poor townsfolk with my intimidating demeanor?”
“Wel . . . you’re not vil ainous.”
“So what did you find out?” she asked, surprised that hadn’t been the first question out of her mouth. Gods, who knew the Northlander could be so bloody distracting? Especial y when al she wanted to do was demand to know what the hel s that kiss had been about.
“We’re on the right track. Three females were seen coming through town, dressed as travelers, on foot, but they sounded so large and wel armed, they had to be Annwyl, Izzy, and Branwen.”
She laughed. “When the Cadwaladrs don’t breed them big, they mate with the big ones. Usual y.” She adjusted the pack she carried. “How long since they went through?”
“Three days, give or take a day.”
“Shit. They’re way ahead of us.”
“We’l find them.”
“Because we have horses?”
“No. Because those three wil find trouble, no matter how they’re dressed or what they do to be ignored. Trust me. . . . We’l find them.”
“Anything else?”
“It seems that more Sovereign soldiers have been seen around as wel . More than the townsfolk are used to since the war began. And even more in the last few days.”
“They causing any problems?”
“Not so far, but we should be careful.”
To Rhona’s surprise, the horses were where she’d left them, grazing on grass and nuzzling each other.
Rhona pul ed out a burlap bag fil ed with fruit she’d picked up in town, but Vigholf took it from her. “I’l feed them.”
“You wil ?”
“I think they like me.”
“No, they don’t.”
“The stal ion lets me ride him.”
“Only because he’s keeping an eye on the mare. He couldn’t care less about you.”
“I don’t agree.” And off he went.
“You can’t be that oblivious,” she told his back, but she realized that not only could he be that oblivious . . . he was that oblivious.
Shaking her head, Rhona walked over to a nice spot and pul ed out her bedrol . She spread it out and sat down, letting out a weary sigh.
She placed the palms of her hands flat behind her, propping her up, and stretched out her legs.
But she wasn’t surprised when she heard, “Oaf!” seconds before Vigholf flipped over her legs and slammed into a nearby tree.
“I told you they don’t—”
“Quiet,” the Lightning barked at her, getting himself up and stepping over her to march right back over there.
Two seconds later, he came flying back again.
“What is wrong with you?” Vigholf demanded of the stal ion.
“He doesn’t like you and he doesn’t want you around his female,” Rhona explained.
“I don’t care.” Vigholf stepped over her legs, heading over to the stal ion again, but Rhona reached up and grabbed his arm. “You of al dragons should understand his position. Now sit.” When Vigholf only glared at the horse, Rhona insisted, “Sit down. Now!”
“Fine!” Vigholf threw the bag of fruit in the horses’ direction. “Here, you bastard!” Rhona bit the inside of her mouth to stop from laughing and was pleasantly relieved that everything seemed back to normal again.
She pul ed on his arm until he final y sat beside her. “You take things so personal y.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do, but you need to let it go. For your sake.” She released his arm and brushed the growing welt on his forehead. “Before that mean bastard cracks your skul open.”
“I thought we could bond over the fruit.”
“You’re not going to bond with that one. Just be glad they’ve stayed with us this long.”
“Bastard,” he muttered while rubbing his abused forehead. “Just a mean bastard.”
“You should be used to mean bastards.”
“Don’t talk about my kin like that.”
“Actual y,” she told him, “I was speaking of my own.”
“Oh. Then you have a point.”
Rhona took another look at Vigholf’s head. “That’s swel ing. I better get a compress for it.” She leaned over Vigholf to get a cloth from her bag.
That’s when she felt him bury his nose against her neck and take a deep breath.
Rhona froze. “Are you smel ing me?”
“No,” the Lightning replied, but the word was muffled by al the hair he had his face buried in.
“Al right then.”
She pul ed a clean cloth from her bag and, after easing away from Vigholf, went to the river, and plunged the material into the cold water.
Looking around for some snow or, even better, a bit of ice, Rhona stood and turned—only to find Vigholf standing right behind her. She took a step back, startled to find him so close and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“What’s that look on your face?”
“What look?”
“Like you’re starving.” Rhona briefly closed her eyes, exasperated, immediately realizing this had nothing at al to do with her. This dragon was a bottomless pit! “Gods of death, you cannot be hungry again. You just ate. ”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But you have your hungry face.”
“My hungry face?”
“I guess you never noticed it because you never look in a mirror, but you have this . . . hungry face. Like you’re a starving man ain’t seen a good stew in years.”
“Wel , I don’t have that look for stew.”
Rhona panicked a little and desperately whispered, “This isn’t about the horses, is it? You can’t go around eating our transportation.” Vigholf snatched the compress from her hand, inexplicably aggravated. “I have no intention of eating our transportation.” He pressed the cloth to his head. She was guessing he had a headache. His own fault real y, trying to feed the horses.
“You can’t lie to me, Vigholf. You clearly want something to eat, but you’re not getting it. Not tonight. We need to economize with our supplies.”
“I’m not hungry,” Vigholf growled.
“You need to find a way to control your appetite.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“We’re going into enemy territory,” Rhona felt the need to explain as she would to one of her cousins or siblings. “I don’t know how regularly we’l be able to get you food. So you’l real y need to—”
“I’m not hungry!” he yel ed at her.
Rhona slammed her finger into his chest. “Don’t yel at me, you Northland bastard. I’m not the one who looks like he hasn’t had a meal in years.”
“You want me to be honest with you?” Vigholf snapped. “You want me to tel you why I have my hungry face as you cal it? Because of you.
Because I’m hungry for you. If there’s anything I want to eat—it’s you.” Rhona stepped back, hands on hips, and accused, “You cannibalistic bastard!”
And that was when the mare charged Rhona and shoved her into the river.
Vigholf nodded at the mare. “Thank you for that. Because I’d been moments from doing it myself.” Because no one could possibly be that oblivious. No one!
Gasping and desperately trying to push wet hair out of her eyes, Rhona got to her feet.
“What was that for?” she demanded, pul ing herself out of the river.
“Because,” Vigholf answered for both him and the mare, “sometimes you ain’t half a dimwitted twit.”
“Me?” she nearly screeched. “Me? I’m the dimwitted twit, O Great Feeder of the Horses?”
“I was trying to bond!”
“Wel , bloody good job you’re doing with that.” Rhona held her arms out at her sides. “Look at me! It’l take forever for my clothes to dry. Arrrgh!” She glared at him. “I should set you on fire!”
“I wasn’t the one who pushed you in. Although I wanted to.”
“Oh, real y? Wel , I’d like to see you try.”
And, with a shrug, Vigholf shoved Rhona back into the river. He took great satisfaction in hearing that splash.
The mare, shaking her head, walked back to the stal ion.
“She dared me,” he argued, holding his hand out for Rhona to grasp so he could help her out of the river. “I couldn’t ignore a dare.” Then again, he couldn’t ignore that fist to the jaw either. And gods-dammit that female had a mighty right hook!
“You’re just lucky,” Rhona told him as she got out of the river by herself, “that I respect your brother too much to bring him back your corpse!” Vigholf rubbed his jaw. “The punch was unnecessary,” he muttered.
“Shut up.” She walked around him. “Just . . . shut up.”
“We’re not done talking, Rhona,” he said to her back.
“What else is there to talk about? You’re an insane Lightning and that mare has no bloody loyalty. Al seems clear to me.” Fed up, frustrated, and out of ideas, Vigholf just admitted the truth.
“I want you, Rhona.”
She stripped off her soaking-wet fur cape and put it over a low-hanging branch near her bedrol . “You want me to do what?” At that point, Vigholf was at a loss. He raised his hands in defeat, his mouth open as he gawked at her.
When he didn’t reply to her stupid question, Rhona looked at him. “Why are you staring at me like . . .” She blinked. Twice. “Oh. You mean . . .” Her eyes widened. “Oh!” Narrowed. “Oh.” Shook her head, appearing a bit disgusted. “Oh.” Then she smiled a bit. “Oh.” Then she sort of slumped and sighed. “Oh.”
“What was al that?” he demanded.
“It means I’l not settle.”
Vigholf felt rage suddenly explode through his veins. She’d said something like that before, and he hadn’t much liked it then either. “And with me you’d be settling?” he bit out between clenched teeth.
“Wel , we’d both be settling, wouldn’t we?”