“You are a skilled fighter,” he said, making her knees go weak. “And yet you want peace.”
“I do not want to lose any more of my—” She almost said family and cringed in her skin.
He had lost all of his. He had to understand.
He slipped his gaze back to the window and grew silent. Just when she thought he might not speak to her again for the entire afternoon, his deep, rich voice fell across her ears.
“I will do what I can to help.”
She offered him her warmest smile and then laughed when his belly made a loud rumbling sound.
“You do not like Bennett,” he said, still smiling when her laughter subsided.
“You sound surprised.” She quirked her brow at him and then waited while Yda returned with their breakfast—with an extra helping for Torin, and set down their plates.
“I am. I thought your family had a bond with him.”
“My family is loyal to no one but Hetheringtons,” she told him over warm bowls of porridge and dates. “You must see that after my cousins attacked the warden’s men. They were foolish. We need the warden as much as he needs us. We help the border guards keep out the Irvines and the Carruthers’—even the Scots if they come back. He keeps the Armstrongs and the Elliots from gathering their armies against us on this side of the border. ’Tis a good partnership, but there is no loyalty other than to family.”
He stared at her, considering her words, and then he nodded and they continued to eat for a while longer.
“Who taught you how to fight?” she asked him, wanting to know more about him.
His spoon paused halfway up. He looked down at it, shielding his gaze from her behind his dark lashes. She had noticed this same reaction whenever she had asked him about his past. He didn’t enjoy speaking of it, which only made her want to know more.
“I became part of the garrison at Till Castle when I was three and ten, but I became one of the governor’s fiercest men, and he became a friend of mine.”
“His stronghold was taken down five years ago by the Scots,” Braya said, proving she knew what was going on outside of her own backyard. “Shortly before they lost to us.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “I was there when the Scots killed him. They were fearless and savage, but I had learned how to be those things as well. Once more though, they killed someone I cared about. I vowed to kill as many Scots as I could before I died.”
She nodded, and then looked away, guarding her gaze from his sight lest he see someone he didn’t like; a heart that bled for too many, a fool led by her feelings. They were the words of men who had raided with her.
“You sound like Galien.”
He laughed softly, more at himself than at her. “I do not know him, but I get the feeling that was not a compliment.”
“I do not wish to insult you, my lord,” she told him truthfully. She was a woman reiver, a warrior, and he had not insulted her once.
“I can bear it, my lady,” he replied with a glint of warmth and amusement in his gaze. “I promise.”
She smiled at him. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to get to know him and, so far, she liked almost everything she knew. Almost. “He enjoys fighting and killing his enemies.”
“What is wrong with that?
Her heart sank, thinking he was another bloodthirsty, prideful fool. “You do not believe there is something wrong when youenjoykilling?”
“That depends on who is dying.”
She was taken aback by his cold response and began to rise to leave.
His hand reaching for her across the table stopped her. “Do not go. Please.”
“We are too different,” she insisted. “I fight to eat—”
“The sound of my mother screaming tore me from my sleep.”
What? What was he saying? His mother. Was he telling her how his mother had died to prove some people deserved to die?
