After saddling their horses, they set out for the Hetheringtons’ village. Torin was surprised Rowley hadn’t yet arrived at Carlisle. He was glad though and thought nothing more of it as he and Adams rode toward the river and then through it.
“How serious are things between you and Braya?” Adams asked him as they went. “And do not try telling me they are not. ’Tis clear to see when you see her or even speak to her. Do you love her?”
How should he answer? With the truth? How could he love her when he was a deceitful fool—her enemy, who was tricking her into liking him? He felt a wee bit ill. He was pitiful and he needed help. “I have never been in love,” he confessed. “Unless you count when I was seven.”
Adams stared at him with a look of disbelief, and then his scarred, weathered face broke into a smile. “Do you jest, boy? You have never loved?”
Torin shook his head. “I do not know for certain if what I’m feeling for Braya is love, but I will not let Bennett have her.”
“Nor will I, but I’m not in love with her. What do youfeel?” Adams dug his fingers into his belly. “Here.”
Torin clamped his jaw, but then loosened it. He would get no help being quiet on the matter. But would Adams help him? How did he feel about Torin being with her? “I feel twisted in knots, torn apart, hopeful and more hopeless than ever before.”
Adams’ smile widened, bringing Torin some relief. Adams had said that Braya reminded him of his sister. Torin did, in fact, feel as if he were confessing his heart to her older brother, Ragenald, and being given Ragenald’s blessing.
They neared the village and spotted someone running toward them. It was a woman. Braya’s cousin, Lucy. She was pale and her eyes appeared to be puffy and red from crying.
Torin’s heart began to race.
“My lords!” she shouted, almost reaching them. “They took her! The Armstrongs took Braya!”
