“Braya, ’tis Galien,” Lucy told her anxiously when she rounded the bend on her horse and fixed her stunned gaze on Avalon first, and then Torin pulling on his boots. “He looks for you.”
“Damnation!” Braya swore and started toward her. She needed to go. Now. The last thing she wanted was for her brother to find her with Torin. Galien wanted revenge for their cousins. Until Torin made his public apology, and her father and the others accepted it, he wasn’t safe around Galien.
She stopped and turned back to look at the food piled on Torin’s cloak, and then at him. She blushed and smiled, proving the food meant much to her family. “I must go. My brother is rash.”
He nodded, not wanting her to leave. “Take the food.”
She shook her head but he insisted, and after gathering the food into the saddlebag, he tied it to Lucy’s saddle.
“Perhaps I will see you tonight at the celebration,” she said, smiling at him as she leaped up into Lucy’s saddle with her.
“Perhaps,” Torin agreed, hoping he would.
They were about to depart when they heard the sound of another horse trotting around the bend.
Torin heard Braya swear above his head. It was her brother Galien. He approached on a large brown horse. His dark hair was pulled back, making the angles of his face seem harsher. His shoulders were as wide as a sunset. It was clear from his hard, murderous stare that he’d rather see Torin dead than alive.
“Sir Torin Gray,” he called out, coming forward. “I should kill you where you stand for showing your face so close to Hetherington land after what you have done.”
Avalon drew near to Torin, and when the brown horse reached them, she reared back her head, opened her jaws, and brought her teeth down snapping.
Braya’s brother took a moment to calm his horse after it had nearly lost part of its nose, and then set his murderous glare on Avalon.
Torin stepped in front of his horse, blocking Hetherington from making any move against her. Almost instantly, Braya was there with him.
“Galien, what is the meaning of this?” Her voice snapped across the air like a whip. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I thought you might be alone with him again,” Braya’s brother flung at her. His accusation and his tone inferred that something vile and wicked had occurred. “What is going on between you? What were you doing?”
“We were…” Torin paused and quirked his mouth. “…playing.”
For a moment, Galien Hetherington appeared too stunned to react. But then his eyes began to blaze and he reached for his sword.
“You killed four of our cousins.”
“I was defending three guards who your cousins attacked and, still, I will come to ask forgiveness from your father and theirs at your town hall tomorrow.”
“You cannot kill him, Galien,” Braya declared with her hand on her hips. Torin had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms. “Take your hand from your sword before you bring shame to our family.”
“’Tis you who will bring shame to our family with your secret meetings with this murderer.”
“This was no secret meeting, Galien,” she defended. “Sir Torin was bringing an invitation to us from the warden.” She pulled the folded note from her pocket and handed it to him.
“An invitation to what?”
“A celebration,” she told him. “A peace offering.”
Her brother took the parchment and tore it in half then tossed it away. Braya cast Torin a nervous glance. He remained still and calm.
“Get on my horse, Braya,” her brother demanded.
“I will leave with Lucy, Galien,” Braya told him and turned her back on him before he had time to utter anything else.
Torin turned from watching her leave and let his smile settle on her brother. He could let insults roll off his back to avoid killing a man, especially if that man was Braya’s brother. He wasn’t bothered by the thought of Galien thinking he’d frightened Torin or anything of the sort. He knew what he was capable of and he wanted to keep it away from any of the Hetheringtons.
“Good day, Mr. Hetherington,” Torin tilted his head at him and then leaped up onto his saddle. “I hope to see you at the town hall tomorrow.”
He trotted off, and then rode out of the trees and back toward Carlisle.
