Torin realized he’d had no one. Florie for a few years, and then no one. He’d learned to rely on himself and his own prowess and had become the Bruce’sShadow.
“Hell, I have heard of ye,” Cain told him. “Ye are spoken of verra highly among Robert’s men.”
It was nice to hear, but Torin had problems, so after finding Braya’s room and her sound asleep in her bed, and after visiting with Adams for a while, he returned to his brothers in the gathering hall of the keep. A few tankards of whisky aided in telling them his concerns. “I believe I have fallen in love with Miss Hetherington and I fear telling her the truth.”
He told them about Ragenald and her family hating Robert’s men, and that he wanted to return to Carlisle and see this through. He told them of his promise to his five-year-old self, and they cried together. They laughed together, too, and many times during the evening Nicholas told them he was glad they were there.
“Listen to me, Torin,” Cain said, and then shook his head in disbelief. “I still canna believe I am speakin’ to ye, little brother.”
“Nor can I,” Torin laughed with him and clanged another cup to his in a toast. They’d hoped to get Nicholas drunk but, by the end of the evening, they were all deep in their cups.
They walked back to the keep together, and Torin bid his brothers goodnight then tiptoed to Braya’s room.
He lit a candle and checked on her. She was still asleep, but when he moved to leave, she was there, in the dark at his back, clutching his arm, stopping him from going.
“Stay.”
He didn’t blow out the candle when he bolted the door instead of leaving through it, but lit four more candles around the bed, so he could see her better when he undressed her.
