“I’m saying that youcannotkill him,” he replied. “As much as I hate to say this, I think you are in love with him. You fell asleep in his arms, Braya. ’Tis the first time I have seen you trust someone so far.”
When she opened her mouth to protest loving the Highland warrior, he held up his hand. “I was not finished. Now that we know the truth, we must ask ourselves if he will bring the Scots to us. I do not think he will.”
He held up his hand again and pushed open her curtain then waited for her to leave. “You will have your turn before Father, but at least hear me, Sister.”
She nodded and remained quiet.
“When he wanted to go into the Armstrongs’ village alone, he asked me to trust him, and I saw something in his eyes that convinced me that you meant much to him. He rescued you from John Armstrong and saved you from them on the castle battlements, and both times his gaze on you spoke volumes about his heart. The Scot loves you.”
“So what are you saying?” she asked him, reaching the kitchen. “We let the Scots fight Carlisle on their own?”
“Even with our help, Carlisle may not win,” her father answered from his seat at the table. “If the rest of the Bruce’s men fight like him, no one will have a chance.”
“If you want peace, Sister, staying out of the fight will help get it. Gray will not bring his army against you.”
“And our cousins?” she turned to ask him as he leaned his hip on the table. “Do you still believe his innocence?”
“I never did,” Galien answered.
“It does not matter,” their father huffed. “We pardoned him. Killing him in cold blood now would make you a murderer in the Marches.”
“But Father,” she went to him and sat in the seat beside him, “the Bruce’s soldiers killed Ragenald. You would have a Scottish warden?”
He looked at her and then at his wife and son. “Aye. I would rather a Scot over Bennett, whose intentions toward you are evil.”
She shook her head, unable to believe her ears! She turned to her brother. Galien? Galien spoke of peace? She…for war? War against Torin. The Hetheringtons had relatives who were Scots. She didn’t care who the warden was, as long as he wasn’t Bennett. She agreed with them, so why was her blood boiling in anger toward them?
Her family didn’t seem to care that Torin had fooled them all—even the border guards. He came here for war and pretended to be peaceful…merciful. She wanted to do whatever would hurt him. She didn’t need her family to do it. In fact, she didn’t want her family to fight and die, especially against Torin. She had a logical thought every so often when Torin’s handsome face and lying tongue weren’t haunting her and remembered the safety of her family.
But logic was no match for a wounded heart, and she thought about hurting him, killing him if she had the chance.
“He may not even return,” she said, closing her arms around herself. She didn’t know which was worse. Killing him and never seeing him again, or him choosing to stay away. “I told you. He found his brothers. He will likely stay in Rothbury, and when the Scots come to our village, he will not be there to stop them.”
Her father looked a bit worried about that and turned to Galien. “Bring Rob Adams here. We need to include him in this decision.”
Galien went, but not before Braya pulled him by the sleeve of his jack. “What has come over you? You are agreeable and sensible. Why the sudden change?”
“I think we will be safe if the Scots win. If Carlisle wins, I want to bring the battle and the rest of the Hetheringtons there and make sure Bennett dies for what he tried to do to you. I am not always a reckless fool, Sister. Contrary to what you think.” He smiled and winked at her and headed out.
“Braya.”
She turned to her father.
“You must remain hidden. No one knows you are here. I want to keep it that way.”
“I wanted to check on Millie.”
He shook his head. “No, my dear. If Bennett gets a whiff of you, he may try something else.”
“Let him! I—”
“Braya!” Her father held up his hand. “Go back to your bed and rest. You have been through much. You are not thinking clearly.”
She balled her hands into fists, but she said nothing.
She was thinking just perfectly. Better than she had in a sennight.
Without another word, she left the kitchen and returned to her room and her small, prickly bed. She remembered her bed at Lismoor and fought the stinging burn of tears forming in her eyes. She loved him. She loved him still. She’d let him touch her, know her, breathe and taste her. And he had been lying to her to entire time. How could he have kissed her with such meaning knowing they were enemies? How could he have lain with her, asking her to wed him, knowing he was a lie?
