Mayhap, they could do both.
She stopped running when she came to Avalon and Archer basking in the shafts of sunlight.
“I tied him to a tree near the clearing,” Torin heard her mutter as he caught up. She settled her gaze on Avalon’s steady, sapient one. “Did she get loose and set Archer loose as well?”
“I did not tie her,” he said, “and aye, she likely did untie Archer.”
“What kind of horse is she?” Braya marveled then stepped closer to them and gasped. “They are eating the berries!”
She gave Avalon a little push and Torin reached out to pull her back before his horse chomped off Braya’s fingers. But Avalon didn’t try to bite her and Torin pulled her into his arms instead.
“She likes you,” he told her, running his lips over her cheek. “She’s a very intelligent horse.”
“So she’s the brain and you are the brawn,” she said, giggling when he kissed her earlobe down to her neck.
“And you are the beauty,” he whispered, snaking his arms around her.
“What a silver tongue you have, Sir Torin.”
He ran the tip of it over her lips and groaned into her mouth when she opened to him. She coiled her arms around his neck as they fell to their knees onto the soft earth, kissing.
Nothing mattered to him in that moment but her. He wanted to tell her, while he kissed the breath from her, that he hadn’t cared about anyone in so long, he wasn’t sure he knew what to do. He wanted to tell her everything; even about the guilt and shame he carried with him. But he couldn’t give that much of himself away. Not to her. And that was the pity of it. She was the one he wanted to tell.
He was afraid. Afraid of loving her and losing her—and the odds of losing her were very high. What would be left of him this time?
How could he find such passion with an English woman? How could he betray himself? Would he be haunted forever? When would it end?
He withdrew from their kiss and cupped her face in his hands. He didn’t know what to say, so he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.
“Are you someone’s husband, my lord?”
He opened his eyes and stared at her. “No. I’m not.”
“Are you away from someone you love?”
She looked so apprehensive about his answer he had to smile at her. “I love no one, lady.”
She didn’t appear relieved so he kissed her hoping it would help. It didn’t. She looked more miserable than he.
“I’m plagued by many things,” he told her quietly and sank to his arse on the ground.
Braya followed. “Tell them to me.”
He couldn’t. How could he tell her who he was,whathe was? Even if he wasn’t deceiving her, how could he ever tell her how he had run away from his family that day? What would she think of him? Her family meant everything to her. He understood it. If he had not lost two families to the English, he would have felt the same way.
“I have lived most of my life for—” He stopped, realizing that this was the first time these words, in this order, had ever left his lips. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or what it meant. All he knew was that he wanted to tell hersome things, not all.
She moved closer to him, almost in his lap, and ran her fingers down the side of his face. She didn’t say anything, and mayhap because of that he knew she could be trusted with what he wanted to tell her.
“For revenge,” he went on, closing his eyes at her touch. “Every single thing I did or said had a purpose, and that purpose was revenge against the E—Scots. About a month ago, I was in Berwick and I overheard some of the Bruce’s men talking about possibly riding here this winter, mayhap sooner. I came hoping to fight. But now I fear you will join the battle.”
Her eyes were large, her face pale. “They are coming?”
He nodded, keeping his steady gaze on her. “I believe they are.”
Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “I have never seen a Scottish soldier. I was too young to fight their war against the warden. My…father is older.” Her tears fell to his hands that were holding hers. She let him go and swiped at her eyes. “When will your revenge be satisfied?” she asked softly.
“I do not know, Braya. But right now, you should be asking your father that question. Will he risk his entire family again by fighting the Scots over some pact he has with Bennett to keep enemy reivers awa—” Aye, right, then. It was not Galien who informed the Armstrongs.
