After waking Seton and instructing him to stand guard outside her door, Robbie sought the cold embrace of a winter’s night, as much to chill his blood as to clear his thoughts. He passed the two men he’d left to guard the main gate and headed into the forest.
Robbie’s expression didn’t invite conversation, and they didn’t ask him where he was going. He didn’t know. But the dense, bone-chilling mist that had descended among the trees offered a strange comfort. The sharp brace of the cold air seeped in, penetrated, and eventually eased some of the tension coiling in his body.
Lust he knew how to remedy. A warrior spent too much time away from women to bother being shy about taking the edge off himself when the need arose, so to speak. It was the other emotions coursing through him, the equally fierce and intense emotions, that wouldn’t be sated by a few hard pumps of his fist.
His desire for this woman went beyond lust. It had been strong enough to make him forget who she was—hell, he probably would have forgotten his own damned name, if she hadn’t yelled it—and completely lose control. It had penetrated the haze of detachment that usually surrounded him when he was with a lass and made him feel things he’d never felt before.
But that wasn’t what really concerned him.
He might be ruthless and merciless on the battlefield, but he’d always been a considerate bedmate. Yet even in his most youthful dalliances, before Wallace had raised his sword and Robbie had dedicated his life to the fight for Scotland’s freedom, he couldn’t recall ever being so gentle or tender with a lass. The reverence, care, and protective feeling that had come over him when he kissed her—thatscared the hell out of him.
He didn’t want anyone he took to bed to be different or special. And sure as hell not an Englishwoman—especially that particular Englishwoman. He had no intention of playing a part in some romantic tragedy, and that’s all it could ever be between them.
With no particular destination in mind and still too restless to return to the manor and attempt to sleep, Robbie started to climb the Manor Hills toward Dollar Law. Though the dark shadow of the mountain was lost in the mist, it loomed over the valley like a vigilant watchdog.
By Highland standards the gentle, rolling hills of the Southern Upland range that dominated much of the Borders were relatively easy climbs. Dollar Law was one of the highest peaks in the area, probably coming within five hundred feet or so of the Cuillins, where the Highland Guard “trained” (more aptly, suffered), though well short of the great Ben Nevis. Still, by the time he reached the top, he was winded and feeling a burn in his legs.
As the summit was free of mist, he took a seat on the stones of the summit cairn and watched the darkness of night give way to the breaking of dawn.
By the time the first glimpse of sunlight appeared to his left, casting a soft orange glow across the valley below him, Robbie knew what he had to do. Rosalin Clifford could not stay. She might wish to not leave her nephew, but after what had happened—or nearly happened—her wishes no longer mattered. He had to do what was best for his mission, and right now, getting her far away from him was what was best.
He glanced toward the castle just visible beyond the trees in front of him. He would take her to Peebles as soon as she woke, and—
He stopped, squinting into the distance. Peebles Castle was less than ten miles away, and with the low mist it was difficult to see, but he’d glimpsed some kind of movement. A short while later he saw it again, only this time he’d seen the banners and unmistakable glint of silver that told him what it was.
He raced back down the hill and through the woods to the manor. Seeing the same men he’d left a few hours before, he shouted orders for them to ready the rest of the men.
Climbing the stairs to the chamber where he’d left the lass and the lad, he saw Seton perched in the same spot Robbie had been before he’d heard the noise that had taken him into the room.
His partner immediately got to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“English soldiers are heading in this direction from the castle. We need to go.”
Seton swore. “You’re certain it is us they are after?”
“Nay, but I’m sure as hell not sticking around to find out.”
He knocked on the door, surprised when she immediately bid him to enter. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept much last night. Pushing open the door, he saw her sitting on a small stool by the brazier, her hands folded in her lap. She glanced up at him, and their eyes caught. He saw the question, saw the hurt, the confusion, and felt an unwelcome seizing in his chest.
Her skin was pale, her expression serene, her golden hair shimmering in the morning light. She looked so achingly beautiful, he knew he would remember her like this forever. Because this was where they would say goodbye. He wouldn’t need to take her to Peebles Castle with the English heading this way.
“Wake your nephew,” he said. “We need to leave.”
She stayed perfectly still, barely reacting to his pronouncement. “I can’t do that.”
He crossed the room, took her by the elbow, and lifted her to her feet. “It wasn’t a request, my lady. There is a party of English soldiers headed this way, and although I don’t object to killing Englishmen, I’d rather not have you and Roger in the middle of a battle.”
She wasn’t looking at him and wouldn’t meet his gaze. It was so unlike her, it made him uneasy.
He released her, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry for what happened last night. I should never have—” He stopped. Christ, he felt like he was Roger’s age, apologizing for stealing a kiss with his first lass. Except it hadn’t been just a kiss he’d nearly stolen. “It won’t happen again.”
“I can’t wake Roger because Roger isn’t here.”
It took him a moment to realize what she’d said. “What do you mean he isn’t here?”
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze full on. “I made a rope out of the bed linens, and he climbed out the window.”
Robbie went completely still. His eyes searched her face. Surely, she couldn’t be serious. That climb was at least a forty-foot sheer drop into a rocky ravine. The idea that the boy would take such a risk was so ridiculous, so preposterous, he didn’t want to believe it.
