Chapter Fourteen
Torin sat alonebeneath the moonlit sky, beside the river Eden just outside the city. Roger MacRae, one of the king’s messengers, just left him carrying Torin’s message beneath his mantle. Torin had written the king, as he had dozens of times in the past, giving him all the information he’d gathered so far about the stronghold. He knew exactly how many men resided in the garrison, and how many patrolled the borders. He knew how many weapons they possessed and he was learning how well they fought. Most of them were poorly trained and would be easy to take down.
If not for the Hetheringtons, Braya most especially, Torin’s plans would not have changed. The Scot’s army could be here by the last few days in July as planned, but so much had changed since he’d come here.
A few days ago there wasn’t a woman in his life who was beginning to matter more than he cared to admit, for whom he feared he was willing to do anything.
Had he said enough, made her afraid enough to warn her father tonight? He hoped so. His army was coming. All he could do was postpone it a bit by asking the king for another sennight before the troops arrived. He would have no way of knowing if Robert would do as he’d asked, but the Bruce always had in the past. The king trusted him. Torin wouldn’t let him down.
There wasn’t much time. If the Hetheringtons insisted on fighting, Torin would have to take Braya away to keep her safe.
Where the hell would he take her and how would he fight if he was not here? No! He had to be here. He wanted to see the stronghold fall.
He looked out across the moon-dappled surface of the river. It was time he began preparing Carlisle for its fate. He would make certain the Hetheringtons did not fight.
Still, it wouldn’t be long now until Braya knew the truth and this was over, the way it was destined to end. It should never have begun in the first place.
Why had he asked for another sennight? Why did he want to prolong this yet again?
He heard a sound and looked over his shoulder to find Rob Adams coming up behind him. What the hell was he doing awake and out here beyond the city? How long had he been skulking about?
“What are you doing here?” Torin asked him with a hard edge in his voice.
“I often come out when everyone else is asleep.” Adams replied, as if he were repeating the weather. “I find it more peaceful.”
Had he seen Torin speaking with MacRae? Torin was tempted to ask him. What if he had? Would Torin kill him if he started asking too many questions? “Aye.”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked Torin and sat down next to him on the grass.
“Seeking peace,” Torin answered and folded his arms across his knees. He kept his gaze on the water before him and said nothing else. Let Adams get the hint that Torin did not want to talk to anyone and let him leave.
He did neither.
“What do you seek peace about?” he asked annoyingly. “Is it Miss Hetherington?”
Torin gaped at him. Had he given Adams any reason to think he could be so bold? “I would rather not discuss my—”
“’Tis clear,” the older man said, ignoring Torin’s warning glare, even if he likely couldn’t see it. “What plagues you about her? That she is the leader’s daughter? That she is a skilled swordswoman? That she—?”
“Adams!” Torin held up his hands. “Enough! I have no intentions on sharing my feelings with anyone, about anyone. Do you understand?”
“Of course. You know I only meant to help with your dilemma.”
Did Torin appear so poorly then? “I need no help with my—I do not have a dilemma.”
“Of course not.”
“Do you mock me?” Torin demanded, wishing there was no full moon so he didn’t have to see Adams’ mocking smile and he could at least pretend ignorance.
“Perhaps just a bit,” the older man admitted. “Only a man as cocksure as you would deny his attraction to her.”
“I’m not cocksure and I do not deny my attraction to her,” Torin confessed quietly, without realizing how much of himself he was giving away.
Adams may have softened his smile. Torin couldn’t be sure, nor did he care.
“I believe I know who alerted the Armstrongs to our weakened defense, and it was not Galien Hetherington,” he said, changing the topic.
“Who was it then?”
