The truth hit her with a blow. She understood what Deirdre must have known from the first. Deirdre didn’t resent her because she didn’t fear her.I’m not a threat to her. Rosalin might have distracted him temporarily, but eventually she would go, and when she did…
Rosalin saw her thoughts mirrored in the woman’s eyes. When she did, he would go back to Deirdre’s bed.
Her stomach turned, and it took everything she had to hold back the hard press of tears that sprang to her eyes. It had taken Robbie’s mistress to make her see what was so obvious. There could never be anything meaningful between them. She wastemporary. A means to an end. When he’d exacted what payment he could from her brother, she would be sent back and undoubtedly never see him again.
Fortunately, the girl—Mor—chose that moment to return with a small tray of food. Rosalin took it from her and recovered her composure enough to thank her. “I will return the tray when I am finished.”
“The morning will be soon enough,” Deirdre said absently, already turning her attention back to the stack of dishes in front of her.
Rosalin started to walk away with her tray, but then turned back. “I should like to help while I am here. If you think of anything I can do.”
The girl who had been silent while Rosalin spoke with Deirdre said something to the other women in Gaelic. By her tone, Rosalin guessed that it wasn’t very nice. Mor covered her smile with her hand, but Deirdre said something sharply back that sobered both girls quickly.
Again, Rosalin was aware of being scrutinized and assessed.
“I presume you are good with a needle.”
Rosalin nodded. Most noble ladies could be counted on to have the skill.
“Well, it isn’t tabards or tapestries, but there is always a stack of linens to be mended.”
Rosalin smiled for the first time since she’d left her tent. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
Whether it was her smile or her gratitude, something seemed to make Deirdre uncomfortable. She brushed off her thanks. “Aye, well, the captain will have to agree to it when he gets back.”
The smile fell from Rosalin’s face; she stilled. “The captain is gone?”
Her distress was so obvious even Deirdre must have felt sorry for her, as there was pity in her eyes. “Aye, he rode out a few hours ago.”
“When will he be back? Where did he go?”
The other woman shrugged. “I don’t know. I should think a day or two.”
“Is Sir Alex here?”
“Nay, he left as well.”
Panic started to crawl up inside her. The goblet on the tray started to rattle. He wouldn’t have left heralonewith…
“Then who is in charge?” she asked, her stomach twisting as she anticipated the answer.
“The Douglas.”
Blood was no longer dripping down Robbie’s arm, but each hard fall of his horse’s hooves jarred his ribs and sent a blast of pain through his side, serving as a visceral reminder of the dangers of distraction. For nothing else could explain the uncharacteristic mistakes he’d made that had enabled the enemy to get in two clean blows: the first, a blade across the shoulder that had struck with enough force to slice through his steel-studded leathercotunto the skin below, and the second, the crushing blow of a mace across his side that had broken more than one rib.
He would like to say that it was because the mission had been more difficult than any of them expected—the fifty men they’d faced had been a highly skilled combination of English soldiers and hardened mercenaries who hadn’t given up their silver easily—but he knew that wasn’t the reason.
It was Rosalin. She was the distraction. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He told himself that there was nothing to worry about. He’d left Douglas in charge and made it damn clear that if any harm should befall her, if she even complained of a quiver of fear, he would hold him accountable. He was fairly sure he’d threatened Douglas with enough bodily damage to deny his new wife any pleasures in the marital bed by removing certain necessary parts with a dull spoon, but Robbie couldn’t remember his exact words.
Rosalin would be fine, he told himself. He’d been gone only half a day.
Which didn’t explain why he and Seton were currently galloping through the forest in the middle of the night, and not celebrating their successful mission with the rest of the Guard by sleeping and tending their injuries in a cave not far from where they’d won their hard-fought victory.
I should have told her I was leaving. He didn’t know why he hadn’t, except that he’d been trying to convince himself after the uncomfortable conversation with his brethren that she didn’t meant anything to him. That he wasn’t beholden to her.
Seton swore behind him. Robbie heard the sound of a branch snapping as he turned with the torch.
“Christ, that almost took my head off,” Seton said. “Either slow down or hand me the bloody torch.”
