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he reached them Eric could see that the man carried a bag on his back, and from the smell, it was likely fish he had inside.
    “Come on,” the big man urged, kicking dirt up on their fire. “It’s not far from here, but it is well sheltered from the winds.”
    “No, thank you. You be on yer way. We’ll stay where we are.”
    “Eric!” Jeanne tugged at his sleeve. “Think about what you say.”
    He cast a quick look in her direction but did not speak.
    “Don’t be foolish, warrior. Few are given a second chance.”
    In the instant Eric had turned his head toward Jeanne, the big man had somehow gotten within arm’s length of him.
    “You need food and I’ve a stew on to boil. Follow along with me and once you’ve eaten, if it pleases you still, you’re welcome to take your leave of me.”
    “I did smell food,” Jeanne murmured, starting off after the man as he kept walking. “It wasn’t my imagination.”
    How was he to protect a woman such as this? He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to his side.
    “Have you forgotten the lesson of Dobbie Caskie so soon? Had we left him along the road as I’d wanted, we’d have food of our own right now.”
    Jeanne lifted her palm to his cheek, a stroke so soft he wondered for an instant if he’d imagined her touch. Then she pulled away from him.
    “I willna spend my days distrusting everyone. You can stay here if you like, Eric, but I’m going with him.”
    By all that was holy, Jeanne would be the death of him yet.

C hapter N ine
    “I’ve never seen wee bowls such as these.” Jeanne scooped her bread into the best broth she’d ever tasted, served in a small, rounded bowl carved from wood. “This tastes wonderful.”
    The big man laughed and handed a bowl to Eric, who hovered at her side, still on his feet.
    “Here. Fill your belly with this. The fish will be done soon. And we need something to drink, as well.”
    He pulled out three wooden cups and filled them from a large flask lying at his side.
    Jeanne accepted hers and took a sip. It reminded her of the honey wine they made at home, only sweeter and thicker on the tongue, with a sharp bite as she swallowed.
    “Mead?” Eric asked, sniffing the cup he’d accepted.
    “The finest you’ll ever taste, warrior,” the man assured.
    “Eric,” Jeanne corrected around another bite. “His name is Eric MacNicol and I am Jeanne MacGhie Horvesson of Castle MacGahan.” She could hardly believe they hadn’t yet exchanged names. Proof of how intoxicating the food was.
    “So you are,” the big man said, dipping his bowl into the bubbling pot before looking up at them with a big smile. “And you may call me Halldor O’Donar.”
    Jeanne returned the smile as she scooped up more of the delicious, salty broth. She liked the big man. Though she should have been intimidated by his size—he stood at least a head taller than Eric—his easy manner and ready laughter gave her comfort.
    “What sets you on the road so far from home, O’Donar?” Eric asked.
    “A debt of honor,” the big man answered without pause, his expression turning serious. “Keeping a promise to a friend.”
    “Us as well.” The similarity only reinforced the bond Jeanne felt with Halldor. “Though ours is now fulfilled and we begin our journey on the morrow to return home.”
    “Indeed.” Halldor rotated the stakes holding the fish over the fire. “I am but at the beginning of my journey. My friend has asked me to watch over his son. The lad is in dire need of guidance, as he is only at the beginning of his own dangerous path.”
    “Which direction do you travel from here?”
    The tone of Eric’s question made Jeanne think more of an interrogation than a visit with friends. It would seem that Eric didn’t feel the same level of comfort with their new friend as she did.
    “North,” Halldor answered, his face breaking once again into a smile. “I believe our fish is done, from the smell of it. And where are my manners?” He stood