“Let us go find her when this is all over.” Torin was sure he’d gone mad, for only a madman would make such plans with a man he would most likely have to kill. His gaze slipped to Braya. She was smiling. She liked the idea. Of course she would. He’d like for her to come as well.
“When what is all over?” Adams asked.
Braya was looking at him over the flames, waiting for his answer.
He gave it. “After the Scots have taken Carlisle.”
Her glorious blue eyes lit with fire from within, as hot as the flames between them. “We cannot let them.”
His eyes on her darkened beneath his furrowed brow. “You would prefer Bennett over a Scot after all he has done to you and your family?” Now, he waited for her answer. He hoped she didn’t hate Scots so much.
“How do we know the Scots will not be worse?” she asked earnestly. “You of all people know how cruel and savage they are.”
“As I told your family in the great hall, the Scots are not known for killing border reivers. If they know the Hetheringtons are a thousand strong and there are others who would fight at your family’s side, the Scots will leave you alone.”
“How can they be trusted?” she argued.
He couldn’t tell her the truth; that it was the English who had taken everything from him. He couldn’t defend the Scots without giving himself away. She would hate him. He wasn’t ready for that.
“Perhaps they will not use your father as a pawn to fight their battles. They might not have his daughter kidnapped and tied to a damned bed and struck as if she were not the most delicate of beings.”
She smiled, beguiling him senseless with her dimple. “I’m not so delicate.”
“You are to me,” he said quietly so that only she might hear.
When the Armstrongs had taken her, he thought he would go mad. He did not for a moment think she was dead or in danger of dying. He would have gone blind with fury if he had. He was not going to lose her, too.
Was this love that he felt for her? He had to speak to Adams alone. What would he do if it was? He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her. Ever.
And the tragedy of it all was that he would lose her because of who he was and what it had made him.
“We should get some sleep,” he told her tenderly. He reached his hand out to touch her bruise and looked into her eyes. “I will watch over you.”
She smiled and laid waste to his heart. “And I will watch over you.”
“And I will watch over the horses,” Adams called out softly from his place against the tree.
The three of them laughed and watched the stars for a little while longer.
Torin didn’t get much sleep thinking about what he would tell Lord Rothbury when he arrived at Lismoor. The earl more than likely believed Torin was a Scot since he was fighting for Robert.
Fighting for Robert.
He opened his eyes and watched Braya while she slept across from him, across the flames. He should take her to Bothwell Castle, but it was in Scotland and too far to travel to and come back in time to fight.
Besides, she should know the truth.
Tomorrow, he thought, after he penned a letter to Rothbury, he would tell her.
Lord Rothbury, NicholasMacPherson of Lismoor, known to some as William Stone, reread the missive he received from Commander Gray of the Bruce’s army out loud.
He sat at a table in the gathering hall in the rear tower with Cain, his brother, who was visiting with his wife, Aleysia, for the birth of Nicholas’ first babe. With them also was Father Timothy and Nicholas’ close friend, Sir Richard.
“I have no idea who Gray is,” he told the others. “If he is in Robert’s service, why does he not know my true name?”
“The two that he travels with are English, my lord,” Father Timothy reminded him after hearing the letter. “He says he’s a spy of sorts, so ’tis likely they dinna know he’s a Scot, or that ye are one. If he’s workin’ fer the Bruce, best to go along with it when they get here.”
“I wish he had penned why he was coming,” Nicholas scowled. “I do not fancy the idea of strangers in my home when my wife gives birth. Worse, what if Carlisle’s guards are pursuing them?”
