He peered harder into the distance as they neared, and tensed. They were riding too fast. Something was wrong.
He turned back to her, the disappointment probably as keen on his face as it was on hers. Leaning down one more time, he gave her a swift kiss. “We’ll have to resume this later.”
She nodded. He was almost to the door when she said, “Wait! Do you think it could be something from my brother?”
He stopped, turning to look at her. “Perhaps.”
A few minutes later, when he met an arguing Seton and Douglas as they rode into the courtyard, he learned that itwasa response from Clifford—just not the one he’d imagined.
Robbie clenched his fists, squeezing through the pain of his broken fingers in pure animalistic rage.
By God, Clifford would pay for this!
Robbie had heard the kind of story related by the lad so many damned times it should no longer affect him. The ordinary day. The happy, unsuspecting villagers going about their business. The first prickle of alarm when the soldiers are sighted. And the sheer terror and chaos that follows when the first sword starts to fall. But the horror of it always struck him anew. And this time it was worse. So much worse. This time he was to blame.
The lad was about Malcolm’s age and was fighting to hold back the tears as he described what he’d seen. “They were killing everyone, my lord. Women, children—it didn’t seem to matter. They blamed us for helping you. Said we were all rebels for keeping your camp supplied in the forest. Someone told them about the, uh…your women. The men were pulling them out into the street when my ma put me on the horse and told me to ride and try to find the Douglas. I didn’t want to look back.”
“But you did?”
The boy nodded and looked away. He’d already told them what he’d seen, and the images were still burning vividly in Robbie’s mind. Deirdre and the other women from camp being…
His stomach turned as bile rose to the back of his throat. Raped and probably killed because of him. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so stupid?
“That’s when I saw the other soldiers riding toward me and I thought I would never get away. There were hundreds of them, swarming all over. I’ve never seen so many weapons.”
“Clifford’s men,” Douglas provided, even though Robbie had heard it before. The boy’s description of their arms had left no mistake. As had the description of Sir Henry’s and his men. Apparently, Rosalin’s betrothed hadn’t been sent back to England after all.
But he was going to wish he had been.
“This happened yesterday?” Robbie asked the boy.
He nodded.
Probably right after receiving Rosalin’s letter. She’d been right. Clifford’s first reaction had been anger. And look what it had cost them.
The lad had obviously reached the end of his tether. He’d been through hell and looked it. But he’d told them everything they needed to know. Robbie thanked the boy and sent him away to get some food and rest.
“I got here as soon as I could, my lord,” the boy said. “Do you think…”
Robbie wanted to lie, but the boy deserved the truth. He’d left his mother and younger siblings behind to ride for help. Robbie shook his head. There was no chance to save them. The villagers were dead and Corehead was no doubt burned to the ground.
The tears were falling unheeded now. “But you’ll do something, won’t you?” the boy asked.
“Aye, lad, I will.” He would strike back and strike back hard in a place that would hurt.
He exchanged looks with Douglas, and the other man nodded. They’d been through this so many times before, he knew exactly what to do. Douglas left the Hall to start readying the men. Robbie was about to follow when Seton stopped him. It was the first time the other man had spoken to him directly since their fight.
“What are you going to do?”
How his partner—formerpartner—managed to convey disapproval in a flat tone, Robbie didn’t know. But he did. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do? You heard what they did.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Clifford do something like this?”
Robbie’s jaw locked. Because Robbie had believed Rosalin when she said her brother would do anything for her and let her write him. “He had a reason.”
“What the hell did you do?”
The accusation snapped the last thread of Robbie’s temper. “I fucking listened to you, that’s what I did! I tried to make it right, and look what happened. I let her write Clifford and open discussions—isn’t that what you are always wanting to do? Well, this is what you get from English negotiations. So if you have anything else to say, say it, or get the hell out of my way.”
