“Good,” Torin said as they entered the keep. “I will tell them I did it. Do not trouble yourself over it.”
“Sir Torin,” the knight said, stopping him before they reached the great hall. “I think ’twas foolish for Lord Bennett to agree to speak with them. No matter what you say, they will find a reason to fight. Have you met reivers? No? They are wild, like rabid dogs—”
“You fear them.” Torin didn’t know whether to smile or give the knight the look of disgust he deserved.
“They are hungry. Five of them attacked soldiers of Carlisle last night. They do not care who they rob, or who they kill to get what they want. I know you fight well, but a word of warning—when you set eyes on the leader’s daughter, Braya, do not be fooled by what you see.”
“What do you mean?” Torin asked, fighting the urge to grin at the fool. Was this guardian of Carlisle admitting to being frightened of a common thief? Awomanthief?
“She is one of the Hetherington’s fiercest warriors.”
Torin couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips as they picked up their steps. “And what might I be fooled by? Is she beautiful?”
Sir John said nothing but pushed open the doors to the great hall.
Torin stepped inside. His gaze found Alexander Bennett first. The warden was taller than Torin had expected, and older. His eyes darted first to Torin and then to another hulking brute standing behind a line of Bennett’s men.
The reiver was broad-shouldered and muscular in hisjack,a short jacket made up of small iron plates sewn between layers of canvas. He wore trews and riding boots, and a sword at his side, as did the two hooded figures behind him. His head was bald and under one arm he carried a steel bonnet. His eyes were the color of an early morning storm. His weathered skin did nothing to lessen the threat of his stance. Of the two behind him, one was much smaller than the other. They both wore jacks beneath their mantles.
“My lord.” Sir John moved toward Bennett. “This is Sir Torin Gray. Corbet has accepted his service in your name. He comes with a letter from the Earl of Rothbury.”
Bennett waved Torin forward. “Sir John says he and some others were attacked and you came to their aid?”
“That is correct,” Torin told him, stepping closer.
“Then explain to Rowley Hetherington and his son what happened last eve.”
Torin turned his gaze toward the reivers, to the smaller one—the woman. He thought he saw fire flash in her hooded gaze. He felt the sting of not being acknowledged.
But he wasn’t here to call Bennett a fool. Not yet.
He slipped his gaze to the leader. “I saw five thieves attack the warden’s soldiers. The soldiers managed to fell one man but they were in poor condition to fight four more. So I killed the rest.”
The woman pulled back her hood, exposing long, flaxen waves loosely woven into an unkempt braid dangling down her left side. She had enormous, almond-shaped eyes that pierced through him like blue, flame-tipped arrows.
“That is a bold and arrogant statement, Sir Torin,” she said with a voice that fell across his ears like the sting of a whip.
“And a deadly one,” the other reiver said, pulling back his hood as well. He resembled the lass in face only, for the hair falling loose to his wide shoulders was as black as the glare he aimed at Torin.
Torin didn’t know which one to scowl at, so he scowled at them both. “If you find the truth bold, arrogant, or threatening, then I truly fear for the state of our borders.”
He was certain he heard every man in the great hall sigh when the lass smiled and exposed a mischievous dimple in her right cheek. She gave Torin her full attention again and, for an instant, he forgot what they were all doing standing there in the great hall. He could see nothing but her, a beguiling light in the midst of deathly shadows. He thought of Sir John’s words, but no warning was sufficient. This slight wisp of a lass, more beautiful than a sunrise after a battle, was one of Hetherington’s fiercest warriors?
She opened her mouth to speak but the leader held up his hand to quiet her.
Damn it, Torin would like to have heard what she was going to say. He offered her the slightest of smiles.
“Do you expect me to believe that you killed four of our men with no help from the warden’s guardsmen?” the leader demanded in a gravelly voice, dragging Torin’s attention away from her.
He looked at the leader and tried to remember what his question was.
“He had help from me,” Rob Adams saved him. “Your relatives thought to rob us after all we have done for your family against your enemies. If I had not been so drunk, I would have helped him kill more.”
Arguing and threats erupted. Torin turned his attention away from them—from her when she caught his eye again. She was English. He had no interest in her, or her family. He returned his attention to the warden. “Should I have allowed their kinsmen to kill your men?”
Bennett looked from him to the reivers and finally at the ground. “No, of course not. Men, please escort these people out.
