“What is a Highlander doing with Lord Rothbury? Has Rothbury turned traitor then?”
The commander sized her up with curious eyes. “There isna much of ye. Is there? Ye are more dangerous than ye look.”
“Commander—”
“Now get yer arses oot of here.”
“Commander,” Torin moved forward. “My friend needs a bed.”
MacPherson settled his eyes on him and, for an instant, Torin thought he’d seen him before—another time when he hadn’t turned Torin’s blood cold. He’d never seen anyone move the way MacPherson just had. He wanted to practice with him, not make an enemy of him.
“What is it ye dinna—” the commander stopped speaking when Torin’s brooch caught the light and nearly blinded the Highlander. “Where…” he reached out to the brooch. Torin stepped back. The commander’s eyes glinted on him. “Where did ye come by such an odd thing?”
Hell. He should have put on his mantle and kept the brooch covered. Should he tell him a story he’d made up, or the truth? MacPherson hadn’t hurt Braya. He’d protected her. Mayhap he was the kind of man who understood these things. “’Tis worthless. It has value only to me.”
“Why?”
“Why do you wish to know?” Torin challenged.
“Did ye rob it?”
“No,” Torin answered, not sure why he felt insulted. “’Twas my mother’s.”
Thankfully, that put an end to the commander’s questions. In fact, he appeared quite…shaken. His eyes glistened like sapphire seas beneath the full moon. He traced them along Torin’s face, soaking him in, admiring the strength of his shoulders.
“Commander?” Torin raised his brows. He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, as if the Highlander were trying to gain entrance into Torin’s innermost thoughts.
MacPherson blinked out of whatever he was thinking about and then smiled. “Get yer horses and come with me.”
Whatever had just happened to change his mind, Torin was glad for it.
MacPherson was quiet while he led them to Lismoor Castle, but Torin caught him staring at him and his brooch while they rounded another hill, where more men became visible in the warm evening mist.
“What is it that you are looking for, Commander?” Torin asked boldly when he caught the commander staring at him yet again.
“Where are ye from?”
“Why? Why do you ask me that?”
MacPherson didn’t answer as they reached the outside wall of the small fortress. They followed him inside and brought their horses to the stable. After that, they climbed a set of stone steps and came to giant wooden doors to the east and a walkway to the west, leading to a tower. He stopped and turned to Braya and Adams. “Ye both go inside with Amish and Father Timothy here.”
They turned to find more men behind and around them.
Torin recognized the priest’s robes and went to him.
“Not ye, Gray,” MacPherson called out. “Ye stay here. There are things I must ask ye.”
“No,” Torin called back. “We all go in together or none of us will go at all and Rothbury will lose vital information about our country.”
The commander laughed and then glanced at Adams, clutching his side. “You stay here or they sleep in the forest tonight.”
Torin didn’t take too much time thinking about his answer. “Go with them!” he called out to Braya and Adams.
They went, but Braya stopped and looked over her shoulder. She met his gaze and then wiped her eyes as she entered Lismoor first.
