“She did not look at all well…”
“Now that you mention it, her color was poor…”
Arran had done this to her. Pain tore through his flesh with the same white-hot agony of the ball he’d taken to the shoulder in his first battle.
He had ripped his family apart once before, and he had done it again.
“…Should someone go after her…?”
“…Of course, someone should go after her…”
Campbell deserved a confession from Arran.
And yet to give one would leave Lucy in a disloyal light.
Their opinion of Arran was already dark.
With his latest act, he’d corrupt Lucy before them.
What in blazes was he to do…?
He had to put this to rights.
For Campbell.
Liar. It’s for her. Lucy.
Yet again, he chose another over his family. The difference this time—Lucy was no Culross.
And he would never regret putting Lucy first in this.
Not when every instinct in him roared for her.
Not when the mere thought of her tears made his vision go red.
I need to go to her…
“Whatever you do, do not send Arran after her this time,” Quillon joked through the noise.
Arran sprang to his feet. A chair toppled with the force of his movement.
Everyone and everything came to another screeching halt.
Dipping a quick bow, he took off.
As he exited, the melee resumed.
“…you all really must stop jesting about Arran…” Dallin sternly chastised. “…our brother is not the same…”
No, Arran wasn’t.
His last battle at sea had changed him.
He lived with guilt and subsisted on shame.
He’d felt like a hollowed-out shell of a man—until Lucy.
She’d been the first person he could speak with again. She made him feel. She reminded him of the brother and cousin he used to be. The one he wanted to be again.
