HER NAME truly was Caithren. She’d been honest all along.
And Jason was a fool.
A colossal fool. A gargantuan fool. The greatest fool that ever lived.
How had he not seen it sooner? Had he simply been too stubborn to admit such a grave mistake, even to himself? Even when the evidence was overwhelming?
She was shorter than Emerald MacCallum was rumored to be, not to mention too young for motherhood and completely unsuited for Emerald’s profession. She didn’t know north from south or right from left. She cried far too easily, and she had no business carrying a pistol. For heaven’s sake, the girl couldn’t shoot an outlaw from arm’s length!
None of that had convinced him.
Neither had her earnest protests.
But the events of this afternoon had exploded his entire view of Emerald.
His view of Caithren, that was.
Caithren.
Somehow, she didn’t seem like a Caithren.
But she most certainly wasn’t an Emerald. An Emerald would not have idled in that courtyard while the Gothard brothers fled. An Emerald would not have sent others after her quarry. Wounded or not, an Emerald would have been hot on the trail before Jason could even catch his breath.
He hated that at times like this his father came to mind. A father who had been forever dutiful and honorable. He’d certainly never made a mistake on the order of this one.
Jason swore at himself for two solid miles.
If he hadn’t already been certain he was ill-suited for this quest of justice, he had the proof riding in front of him. First he’d taken the life of an innocent man, then he’d endangered that of an innocent maiden by mistakenly dragging her into this mess.
If only he could turn back time and leave Caithren on that public coach. He would—honestly, he would—even though that would mean they’d never have kissed as they just had.
His arms tightened around her waist at the mere idea.
Unfortunately, going back in time was naught but wishful thinking. The hard truth was, now that the Gothards had seen them together, protecting her was more important than ever.
And their, uh, romantic entanglement—if that’s what it was—only complicated matters. New and confusing feelings were an unwelcome distraction, besides which, it was now more than obvious that he couldn’t trust himself alone with Caithren. Alone with Emerald, he’d maintained self-control only by thinking of her as the mercenary tracker.
Alone with Caithren, he had no such protection.
For both their sakes, they needed some distance from each other.
They rode through Southoe, a sleepy village with three moated manor houses and a single old brick inn. “Are you hungry?” Caithren asked as they passed it, jarring him out of his thoughts.
“Hardly.” He pushed back his hat. “I’ve been thinking—”
“I cannot say I’m surprised. You seem to do that a lot. Did the Gypsy not say you plan too much?”
“Hush.” He swatted one of her plaits. “And listen, please. We’ve no need to rush anymore. We don’t have to worry about the brothers reaching London before us.”
“What makes you think that?”
“They’ve been following me. They tried today to kill me.”
“Not a very competent attempt,” she said doubtfully.
“Walter isn’t known for his brains. Still, they obviously had a plan, with Walter doing the deed and Geoffrey then spiriting him away. Geoffrey wouldn’t want another murder laid at his feet, and Walter is a biddable sort.”
“So…”
“So they won’t be racing off to London the way they planned when they thought I was dead. They’ve evidently decided to do away with me first. Alive, I can bear witness to their deeds, and well they know it. They’re desperate. If either of them ever had a decent bone in his body, it’s disappeared now that they’re backed into a corner.”
She was silent as she took that in.
He drew a deep breath. “Another change in appearance would be prudent. And they’ll recognize Chiron as well. I’ll have to board him and buy another horse.” Another thought occurred to him. “Two. They won’t expect us to be riding two.”
“I won’t try to escape you,” she said, reading his mind.
“I’m glad of it.”
He would miss riding with her, though. The feel of her body against him, the scent of her hair, the little hollow at the nape of her neck. Unconsciously he pulled her closer.
Then remembered he had to keep his distance.
“We’ll stop in the next town and stay the night—Emerald.” he said. Perhaps continuing to call her the hated misnomer would help keep her at arm’s length. “You can rest and tend to your wound while I gather what we need.”
She grunted. “We?”
“You’ll have to change your appearance as well. They’ve seen you with me now—they’ll assume you could bear witness too.” His voice dropped. “I’m sorry. It’s for your own good.”
“Whatever you say, Jase,” she said softly. Her hands closed over his where he held the reins. When she squeezed his fingers, his insides squeezed in reaction.
Egad, she was maddening! How did this troublesome girl manage to stir up such tenderness and concern in him? He’d known Caithren less than a week, and yet the thought of beastly Gothard nearby and meaning her harm was enough to make him shake with fear. She had already been hurt more than once, and today she could have been killed.
And it would have been Jason’s fault for dragging her off that coach.
He was caught in a trap of his own making, and he felt the jaws closing—teeth of steel that he’d sharpened himself.