He cupped her face with his good hand—the one bloodied only at the knuckles—and stared down into her eyes. His expression did soften then, and she felt hope swell in her chest. “God knows, I have no right, and it would be a foolish thing to do for many reasons, but aye, if it were possible, I would marry you. The idea of sending you away…” His voice grew so tight, it cracked. “It’s killing me. I would love nothing more than to tell your brother to go to the devil, but too much is resting on this damned truce. We’re close, Rosalin. I can feel it. I can’t do anything to jeopardize that. It’s too important.” He paused. “I can’t let their deaths be for nothing; I can’t let them down.”
Of course he couldn’t. She understood, probably more than he realized. But it was what else he’d said that caused happiness to swell inside her like a big ball of sunshine. A broad smile curved her lips. “Do you mean it?”
Wariness flickered back into his gaze. “Wait, sweetheart—don’t get carried away. Did you hear what I said? Only if it were possible.”
“I heard what you said.” He wanted to marry her. He did love her. Needing to be in his arms, she buried her head against his leather-clad chest and waited for his arms to wrap around her. They did. Even dirty and with the stench of battle upon him, she savored the warmth and masculine strength. But realizing he was probably confused, she pulled back. “Itispossible, don’t you see? I will write to my brother.”
For the second time in less than five minutes he looked at her as if she were crazed. “Just like that, and you think he will welcome me into the family?” He laughed without any humor. “It would be a cold day in hell before Clifford sanctioned the marriage of his sister to a ‘rebel’ Scot.”
She shook her head. “You are wrong. My brother loves me and will do anything to see to my happiness.”
“But hedespisesme. He will never agree to a marriage between us. I can think of only one person in Christendom who he would be less likely to betroth to his beloved sister—and Douglas is already married. You don’t understand, Rosalin—you have not been a part of this.”
“It is you who do not understand. I do not deny the truth of what you have said. He will be angry at first, refuse, and probably try everything he can think of to talk me out of it. But once he understands that I love you, and that you lo—um, care about me, he will agree.”
If he noticed her slip of the tongue, he didn’t show it. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know one thing: the love he has for me is stronger than the hate he bears you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Her heart pinched. She stared up at him, and for a moment she felt a flicker of doubt. Love was stronger than hate. If he loved her, he would know that—wouldn’t he? She gazed up at him and said solemnly, “But Iamsure of it. Let me write Cliff, and you’ll see.”
He studied her face, and she could sense him relenting.
“What harm is there?” she pressed. “The worst he can say is no. He won’t do anything while you have me.”
He didn’t look so convinced.
The pad of his thumb ran back and forth over her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
She brightened, sensing victory. “I won’t be. I may have to go to him when the truce is settled and persuade him, but eventually he will agree.”
From the way his arms tightened, she could tell he didn’t like that idea. His lowered his mouth to hers in a brief caress that followed the trail of his thumb. She suspected only the cuts and bruises prevented him from deepening it.
When he lifted his head, his eyes met hers. “Write your letter, Rosalin, and we will see what your brother has to say.”
Twenty-four
The wait for Cliff’s response seemed interminable.
Rosalin knew it was partly because Robbie had not been to her solar since the night of the horrible fight with Sir Alex. She’d slept in his arms after he’d washed and had someone tend his wounds, but they had not made love. She’d assumed it was due to his injuries, but now, two days later, she suspected it had more to do with Sir Alex and his not-so-subtle condemnation.
Whether Robbie wanted to admit it or not, whatever had happened in the yard that night had kept him from her bed. He blamed his removal from the tower on some problems with his men, and later on the return of the elder Lady Douglas (James’s stepmother) and Douglas’s sister Elizabeth, but Rosalin knew it was more than that. The realities that he’d been able to ignore while Sir Alex and Douglas were away were now staring at him full force. Neither man hid his feelings on the matter.
Rosalin understood that his friends’ disapproval weighed heavily on him, and it only made her more eager for her brother’s response. Even though Robbie spent as much time with her as he could when not busy with his duties, she missed the closeness and the reassurance of sleeping in his arms.
The only consolation was that he seemed just as miserable about the arrangement as she. The longing in his eyes when he looked at her almost managed to quiet the doubts that had risen from his harsh words to Sir Alex. Almost.
With the return of the Douglas ladies, Rosalin’s confinement to the tower was not quite as lonely. Elizabeth Douglas was charming, beautiful, and as refined as any lady of Rosalin’s acquaintance in England—in other words, she couldn’t have been moreunlikeher terrifying brother. At one and twenty Elizabeth was sophisticated for her years, and Rosalin wasn’t surprised to learn that she’d spent much of the last decade in France.
In some ways it made her as much of an outsider as Rosalin. Elizabeth had been uprooted from her friends—including Joanna—at a young age and returned to Scotland a stranger. Whereas Rosalin longed for the quiet, simple life of the countryside, she could tell that Elizabeth missed the excitement of her life at the French court.
But Rosalin wondered if there was something disturbing her. Elizabeth spent an inordinate amount of time staring out of the window as if expecting someone to come riding into the yard.
The elder Lady Douglas was polite, but she seemed to share her son’s feelings—if not his animosity—toward Cliffords. As she’d spent most of the time in bed recovering from an illness she’d suffered while traveling, however, her stepdaughter was free to spend as much time as she liked with their “hostage.” Joanna had taken to joining them after the midday meal to sew for an hour or two before she had to return to her duties.
Today they were in the solar Joanna shared with her husband on the second floor above the Hall. It was the most spacious chamber, with an enormous four-poster bed, a large fireplace, two large cushioned chairs, a desk, a bench, and two small windows that overlooked the courtyard. As in the other solars, the furnishings were surprisingly fine and comfortable for the castle of the family of a man who was supposedly an outlaw.
