The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(36)

She took her dog from Robby and swept into the castle. Though she was tempted, she didn’t look back. She’d seen that dark glower enough to know what it looked like.

Anna might have been content to leave it at that—female pride intact—if he hadn’t made her curious. Why was he so determined to be rid of her? Was he hiding something, or did he merely seek to avoid the entanglement?

It was almost as if he’d been purposefully trying to be cruel in the forest. As if she’d hit some kind of nerve. She’d merely wanted to thank him for what he’d done—and the extraordinary abilities he’d demonstrated—but he’d reacted as if she’d accused him of being unnatural.

She bit her lip. Was that it? Was he worried about how other people would react? She supposed it was understandable. Differences weren’t tolerated well in today’s society, provoking fear and revulsion.

He’d pretended that he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

Had he? She bit her lip, no longer certain. It certainly had felt that he had at the time. It had all happened so fast. Had he read signs that she missed, or had it been something more?

Whatever it was, it seemed he didn’t want to acknowledge it as anything special. Later, he’d explained to her father what had happened in much the same way as the fall from the cliff, severely minimizing her version of the story with an explanation for everything. Her father had scolded her for putting herself in such danger over a dog and expressed his gratitude to Sir Arthur once again.

Anna didn’t understand why Sir Arthur was downplaying what had happened. His skills could be put to great use against the rebels. With his keen abilities, Bruce and his band of pirates would be hard-pressed to wage their ambush-style attacks.

But when she suggested to her father that he take advantage of Sir Arthur’s skills, making him a tracker—or better yet, a scout—you’d have thought from the knight’s reaction that she’d suggested that he clean out the garderobe. Sir Arthur had been furious at her. Each time their eyes met over the next few days, she felt the hot intensity of his gaze bore into her.

Keeping an eye on him turned out to be easier this time around. For that, she had to thank Squire. It seemed her new puppy had developed an attachment to his rescuer. As soon as Anna’s back was turned, Squire—that’s what she’d taken to calling him after she heard the men teasing Sir Arthur that he finally had a squire—would make a beeline for the knight. Whether he was in the yard practicing with the men, in the hall eating, or even in the barracks, the dog would find him. If Sir Arthur went out riding for the day, the puppy would sit whinging by the gate until he returned.

It might not have been so bad, if the poor little thing didn’t get so excited that whenever he saw the knight he peed. The last time, he’d nearly done so on Sir Arthur’s foot.

To say that the puppy was an annoyance to the knight was an understatement. Sir Arthur ignored him, shooed him away, and snapped at him, but no matter how hard he pushed him away, the puppy couldn’t get enough.

Squire was a glutton for punishment.

Anna knew the feeling. It seemed she and the pup both had a weakness for ruggedly handsome knights with wavy dark-brown hair, gold-flecked brown eyes, and dents in their chin.

She was drawn to him. Perhaps like the puppy, she sensed that Sir Arthur needed someone. His distance she saw as loneliness, his remoteness as a shield that she was determined to pierce.

Though exactly what she hoped to find, she didn’t know. And as the days passed with no cause for suspicion, her excuse for watching him began to wear thin. But if she wasn’t watching him for her father, for whom was she?

It was a question that she asked herself as she made her way to the Great Hall for the evening meal. Her father would be expecting a report soon, and she would have to give it to him. She’d found nothing. The knight’s greatest offense was a propensity to keep to himself and a keen ability to ignore her.

She knew it was time to put an end to her spying. But why was she so reluctant to let him go?

Sir Arthur was nothing like the men who normally attracted her. But she could not deny she was attracted to him—deeply attracted. More than she’d ever been attracted to a man in her life. Almost enough to make her forget how wrong he was for her.

Aye, it was time to put an end to this.

She was about to exit the spiral stairwell of the donjon into the passageway that led to the Great Hall when a yapping ball of gray-and-black fur went speeding past her feet. Nearly tripping, she muttered an unladylike curse, realizing she must not have securely latched the door to the chamber she shared with her sisters and Squire had managed to escape again.

But thankfully the closed door at the bottom of the stairwell had trapped him. When she caught up with the naughty little thing he was standing at the door, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

She picked him up and he licked her face. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. “Let me guess, Sir Arthur?” He barked, seemingly in the affirmative, and she laughed. “You are a fool, little one. When are you going to accept that he doesn’t want you around?”

The puppy whinged and cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her right.

She sighed and shook her head. Perhaps she should listen to her own advice. “All right, all right, I’m sorry.” She put him down and opened the door. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”