All he had to do was make it to the next village or posting house. Any accommodation, actually, where he could rest and heal away from his brother and the green-eyed angel.
Rory made for the door slowly, bracing his injured arm with his good one. Opening it, he let himself out into the hallway.
There was light here from a thick candle set on the hall table. Looking around, he saw paintings in rough wooden frames along the walls. Each was clearly done with an inexperienced hand… a child’s, Rory believed.
It was a home, he thought. A place where children would have been raised to run and be happy. A place that wrapped around a person and made them feel safe. Of course, he didn’t know that for certain, but felt it inside him. He and his sister had never lived in such a place.
Did Max have children who lived here with him? Did Rory have more nieces and nephews?
He pushed the thought aside as he took a moment to rest and wipe the sweat from his brow. The effort was taking its toll on him. Each step jarred his shoulder, and his breathing was choppy.
He heard a loud bark of laughter then and made his way silently by the door it came from and out the old wooden one ahead of him. Cold air slapped him in the face, jolting his senses to attention.
Taking the steps, he saw some outbuildings and headed in that direction. He would take a horse and have someone return it when he reached his next destination.
The wind was cool and pushed against him as he slowly made his way to the stables. The breath wheezed from his body by the time he reached them. Two days ago, he’d been strong and healthy. Not so now.
The scents of horse, hay, and manure greeted him. Familiar scents, unlike those inside that house. Family, love and happiness, and food, plenty of food. Things so foreign to him they could be words from another language.
“Hello, Rory.”
A man stepped out from a stall. Tall, he had dark hair and green eyes and had to be related to Kate. Stepping forward, he held out a hand.
“I’m Cambridge Sinclair, the best of the lot, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The smile was easy, as was the charm with it. Rory knew a confident man when he was facing him.
“Good day. I need to find my dog and borrow a horse, as I am to leave.”
“Nasty day for travel, it has to be noted, and seeing as I was in the rescue party that hauled you up the side of that cliff and saw the state you were in, I’d recommend you don’t go anywhere.”
“I’ll send the horse back as soon as I’m able.”
“You’re much better to go back inside with me. There is a tea tray being prepared as we speak. Josiah, one of the men who helped herd us into halfway decent humans whilst we were doing our best to self-destruct during our adolescent years, is a god at baking. He’s been perfecting a new recipe for fruitcake. It’s full of spices and a wee touch of rum. He soaks the fruit in it, I’m led to believe.”
“I need to leave.”
“Of course, if that is your wish, but the problem for me is this, Rory. I have this ridiculous need for those I love to be happy. Seeing you has made Max doubly so—”
“I want nothing to do with him.”
“Understand that… really I do.” Before he could stop him, Cambridge Sinclair had wrapped his fingers around Rory’s arm, turned him, and was heading back out the barn doors. “Have siblings, six of them to be exact, cousins and in-laws also. Have me gnashing my teeth upon occasion but wouldn’t be without them.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Very likely, as there’s a great deal smoldering between you and Max beneath the surface. But the predicament I’m in is that I’m a happily-ever-after kind of man. There’s a need in me—it’s a fault for sure, ask any of my family—and I have an optimism that can be annoying. I’m big enough to admit it, Rory.”
The man was scrambling his wits with all this talk.
“I want to leave,” he gritted out as his vision started to waver.
“It’s stronger at Christmas and with the wedding upon us,” Cambridge Sinclair continued as if Rory had not spoken. “Then there’s the fair at the castle.”
“Fair?” He couldn’t seem to shake his hand free. The man was walking and taking Rory with him.
“Wonderful thing. Usually it’s held on the village green. For some obscure reason, our forefathers thought it was best hosted in the winter. This year James is having it at his little house.”
“James?”
