“I thought you were friends.”
“So did I, and then his family tried to rob and kill me.”
Torin liked his confidence and eagerness to fight. Pity he fought on the wrong side. Adams was skilled enough to kill a reiver while he was weary and drunk. Torin would be careful not to form any kind of attachment to him, since he was going to kill him at some point in the future.
Better to know now how he fought. Torin thought about it and pulled his curls back to tie them again. He hadn’t had a good, hard practice with someone skilled in months. Braya was a skilled, interesting opponent but he wanted to kiss the hell out of her, not defeat her. “Let us speak while we spar,” he offered. “Or do you need to rest?”
Adams narrowed his dark eyes on Torin and then smiled, proving he was missing a tooth on the right side on his mouth. “No, I do not need to rest. I was hoping to see you on the field today.”
“I was out here just before sunrise,” Torin told him as they walked together across the yard. A handful of men were practicing.
“Had I known you were here, I would have joined you for some sport.” Adams ripped his long sword from its sheath. “But better later than not at all.”
Torin pulled his sword free from over his shoulder. Practicing with him would give Adams an advantage, as well. Torin didn’t care. He would practice with everyone in this damned castle until they thought they knew his every move, and he would still win.
“I do not recognize the accents of your speech,” Adams remarked and swiped at the air with his blade to loosen up his arm. “From where do you hail?”
So, Adams was familiar with many different types of speech, meaning he moved around a lot. He was likely a mercenary. The most dangerous kind of man. For his loyalty belonged to his purse alone. “Bamburgh,” Torin told him, ready to give an account of his entire false background if necessary. Bamburgh was close to the Scottish border in the east, so if his tone sometimes sounded more like the Scots, it was understandable.
He circled Adams once and opened his mouth to say more, but Adams had other questions.
“How did you know about my friendship with Hetherington?”
“His daughter told me,” Torin said, readying his sword.
“Aye, I heard Miss Hetherington was here this morn,” Adams braced his feet and held up his blade. “I did not know you spent time with her.” He came forward with a long swing that made the air in front of Torin’s face whistle.
“We parted just before you found me,” Torin told him, straightening his arched back. He swung his blade, narrowly avoiding Adams’ knees, then curved his wrist and found an open spot in the soldier’s defense. He held the cold steel of his blade to his opponent’s groin.
Adams gave him the win. They pushed off each other and readied for the next round.
“So you spent the morning somewhere with her,” Adams remarked, hefting his sword over his head to block a crushing blow from Torin, “and returned without a wound.”
She’d given Adams’ name as one of the men who had not harassed her.
“Once she realized I had no intentions on molesting her,” Torin told him, “she was quite pleasant.”
Their swords met and crossed between them. Adams pushed against him and looked him straight in the eye. “She is not taken seriously and may be the downfall of this castle.”
What the hell did that mean? Torin parried a sweeping blow to his hip and smashed his blade down hard on Adams’, almost knocking the hilt from the soldier’s hands. “How is she a threat to this castle?” He jabbed and swung and pushed Adams back with an onslaught of heavy blows.
Adams fought back valiantly but finally, he jabbed when he should have blocked and closed his eyes when Torin pushed the tip of his blade against his throat.
Torin took the second win and swung around on his feet to walk away and catch his breath—and to think about what Adams had said. Had he missed something? Braya didn’t want war.
“She hates the warden.” Adams told him when he returned a few moments later. “And she should. If Bennett had his way, he would…” He stopped and shook his head, unable to finish what he meant to say. “He’s never made it a secret that he desires her, though he looks down upon her fighting and does not believe she is dangerous. If he touches her, I fear she will not hesitate to cause him the most grievous pain.”
Torin touched his groin and swallowed hard.
“The instant Rowley Hetherington heard what Bennett had dared to do to his daughter…well, there would be no threat of war. They would just come. Do you know how many of them there are? So many,” he said, answering his own question, “that I did not recognize the five who robbed us, and I have been here for twelve years. Bennett will die. Carlisle would fall and ’twould bring the Hetheringtons, especially Braya, to the attention of King Edward.”
Aye, Adams was correct. She hated Bennett. Torin should have seen it. She’d kept it from him, but the warden hadn’t acknowledged her the morning she was here with her kin. This morn, she would not let him even touch her. Torin had already stopped her from swiping at Bennett with her blade once today.
It was a threat to his plans, as well. As far as the reivers were concerned, he was an English soldier of Carlisle. They would slaughter the garrison, and he couldn’t fight off a thousand men on his own. Hell, he needed to keep Braya safe from Bennett’s foolish touch. He needed to make certain Adams’ fears did not come to pass. He had to think. Who could he enlist to fight alongside him if a thousand men arrived?
“Why do you care so much about her life?” he asked Adams. Was the soldier in love with her? No. Torin did not see passion in his eyes, nor did he hear it in the older man’s voice. “Let me guess. You saved her life.”
“In truth, she saved mine.”
