The pup’s barking made horrible sense. Pip, Eddie, and baby Maddy…they were gone.
Concentrate, damn it. There is nothing wrong with you. Gregor grabbed an arrow from where it was stuck in the ground at his feet, nocked it, drew it back, and let it loose in one smooth motion before picking up the next and the next in rapid succession.
Within seconds, he’d fired off a half-dozen arrows at as many targets that hung from a rope along the wall. All but one of the arrows had hit its mark dead center. The one that missed had done so by less than two inches. Nearly perfect. But for Gregor, two inches was as good as ten feet.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed the miss. Although they were trying not to show it, all three of his brethren were looking at him with varying degrees of concern. It had been like this all morning, except that if anything, Gregor’s shots were getting worse.
“It was a late night,” MacSorley said. “We are all tired. Hell, we probably rode thirty miles last night. Perhaps we should call it a day.”
Christ, it was so bad, MacSorley wasn’t even trying to jest.
Without a word, Gregor went to the wall to retrieve the arrows from the stuffed bags of linen marked with a black “x.”
Gregorwastired, and theyhadridden most of the night—chasing shadows as it turned out, with no sign of the men who’d been in the forest—but they all knew that wasn’t why he’d missed a target that a squire would have hit. In fact, it was a training exercise Gregor had devised as a lad and used now to teach young archers.
Two days ago when he’d ridden out with his bow for the first time since returning home, he’d been flawless. Focused. His old self.
But two days ago wasn’t today. Two days ago he hadn’t known that the marriage he’d actually been looking forward to was a sham. Two days ago he hadn’t felt like ripping off someone’s head—preferably his own.
God, he couldn’t believe what a deluded fool he’d been! He’d actually thought she was different. He’d thought she really loved him,andfor the right reasons.
But whatever the truth of her feelings, he no longer cared. He didn’t need her love, or anyone else’s for that matter. He’d had enough games, enough “traps” and boasts, to last a lifetime.
He yanked the errant arrow from the mark disgustedly. He’d missed the target for one reason and one reason only: because he couldn’t bloody concentrate. He couldn’t get himself to that place he needed to be where nothing else mattered. The narrow zone where there was only his arrow and the target.
He didn’t know why he was letting her get to him like this. Why was he still so damned angry? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? He shouldn’t care, damn it. She would be his wife, but that was all. She shouldn’t matter to him.
Coming home was supposed to clear his head of distractions, not make them worse. He never should have let himself get involved with her. He should have married her off and been done with it as he’d originally planned. He had a job to do, damn it. The king was counting on him. His friends were counting on him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let them down.
He couldn’t afford to lose his edge and let anything interfere. Not when they were so close. Which meant he had to get Cate out of his head for good. He needed to get back to the way he was before he’d been duped.
MacSorley and MacRuairi were already starting back to the barracks when Gregor returned to the line. But Campbell was waiting for him.
The revered scout didn’t say anything for a while. He just stared at him with that eerie, penetrating gaze that made you feel as if he were looking right inside you.
Suddenly, Campbell straightened, sensing her arrival moments before Cate walked around the corner. His partner was like that. He could feel things before they happened. It had come in handy more than once.
One glance at her devastated face, and Gregor knew she’d discovered what he’d done. He hardened the fool heart that felt a pang of remorse she didn’t deserve and looked back to his partner.
“Whatever is wrong between you and the lass,” Campbell said, “fix it. We need you.”
Gregor held his friend’s gaze for a moment, and then gave a determined nod. He intended to do exactly that.
Twenty-one
Cate barely acknowledged Campbell as she came up to stand before Gregor. Her eyes were only on him. Haunting eyes. Eyes filled with hurt, condemnation, and disbelief. Eyes that begged him to tell her she was wrong about what he’d done.
She was pulled tight as one of his bowstrings, her hands in tiny balls at her sides, her slender figure taut and straining. “Where are they?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The bairns have been returned to their rightful homes and families.”
Her fists squeezed and her lips pursed white. But it was the sheen of tears that made his chest feel too tight and his lungs feel as if they were on fire. She was projecting calm fury, but he could see the hurt and pain and knew just how close she was to losing her composure.Don’t cry, damn it. If she did, he didn’t know what the hell he’d do.
He shouldn’t care, damn it. She’d deceived him. Used him. Made him think she loved him for the right reasons. Made him want something he’d never wanted before. And that was something he could not forgive, no matter how remorseful or heartbroken she appeared.
“This is their rightful home. We are their family.”
The accusation in her gaze pricked his conscience, letting loose some of the anger whipping around inside him. “Neither is true. It was a fantasy you created that had no place in reality. Those children didn’t belong here, they belong with their true family—their real blood relatives.”
