Chapter Twenty-Four
Braya didn’t thinkthe pain could get any worse, but she was wrong. The more the initial shock wore off, the worse she felt. Telling her father didn’t help any—even with Mr. Adams there with her. She couldn’t tell Galien or the others yet. She could not take the ridicule she was sure would come to her after insisting that he was innocent and having him apologize to all.
But none of that was the worst part. No. The worst part was that she’d given herself to him. She’d agreed to wed him. She’d lain in bed with him and…she couldn’t think of it. She didn’t want to remember how wanton she had been for him. The thought of it shocked and shamed her. Was Torin so cruel that he would not only deceive her but would use her to satisfy his own lustful desires?
But he had been sorry he came to her.
I wish we had not done it while I was so deep in my cups. You deserve more than that. So much more than what you got from me.
Was he sorry he had deceived her? Or was his regret just another lie?
You were…hell, you were…perfect, like a burning lute playing a song only I could hear, and we danced together to it.
She remembered his voice, so meaningful, so sensual—his touch, so tender and patient. She wanted it back, and she was angry with him for taking it from her.
She closed her eyes and wept for the thousandth time today.
“Braya?”
She opened her eyes and wiped them at the sound of Galien’s voice.
“May I come in?” he asked, surprisingly gently.
When she nodded, he sat near her on the floor beside her straw mattress behind the curtained partition that separated her room from the rest of the house. “I spoke to Father.”
She groaned inwardly and prepared herself for whatever her brother was going to say. She wouldn’t mind if he ridiculed her for trusting a Scot if her heart didn’t feel as if it were being ripped out.
“So, Gray has an agenda.”
“Aye,” she said weakly. That was a nice way to say it. “Aye. You were correct about him all along. I should have listened to you.”
He swayed a little. If he had been standing, Braya thought he would have fallen over. “I…I wish I had been wrong.”
She smiled and swiped a tear from her cheek.
“You care for him.” It wasn’t a question he put to her.
First she shook her head, and then she wept harder and nodded.
He didn’t say anything for a time but simply sat with her and pulled her in closer while she wept—which only made her weep harder. He hadn’t trusted Torin, and she hadn’t listened to him.
“He…he lied to me, Galien,” she told him through sobs and tears. “The Scots have taken over every stronghold. They want Carlisle as well. We cannot let them have it.”
“Aye,” he said, his dark gray eyes somber, “but if we fight, we will be fighting against him.Youwill be fighting against him. I do not think ’tis wise.”
She eyed him, unsure if her brother had been replaced while she was away with someone who looked like him. “Since when do you care what is wise?”
He smiled. “Since my sister is involved. Braya, you are a skilled fighter. Better than most—”
She lifted her head and gaped at him. Was she hearing him right? Though her heart was aching, she couldn’t help but smile.
“—but your heart is involved,” he continued. “Being hurt or angry with him is very different than killing him on the battlefield. If we do fight against the Scots, I do not think you should come with us.”
She sat up. “But I—”
He shook his head. “No. Father agrees. ’Tis too dangerous.”
Braya bolted from her mattress and stood over him. “What are you saying, Galien?” she asked angrily. “That I will not kill him given the chance?”
