“It isn’t any of my business,” he finished as if Thom hadn’t spoken. “But I hope you realize what’s at stake. You fit in well—and God knows we need that after Seton. But if Douglas or MacLeod finds out...”
Thom’s jaw hardened. “You don’t need to say anything else. I understand.”
“Do you? I hope to hell she’s worth it.”
She was, but that wasn’t any concern of MacRuairi’s.
He was surprised how much it meant to hear MacRuairi say that he fit in well. He did, he realized. No matter how unlikely that seemed. He was the only lowborn among them, but in the Guard it mattered what you did, not who you were. They were chiefs, chieftains—even an heir to an earldom—but there was no rank among them, no retinues to follow them, and no pretense. If Chief asked one of them to dig in a cesspit, they would without hesitating.
This is what he’d been searching for, Thom realized. Being a part of something that mattered. Something he would achieve on his own merit. Somewhere along the line winning a place in the Guard had become the most important thing to him—even more important than earning his knighthood.
“I assume you are here for a reason?” he asked.
“Two, actually. I wanted to talk to you about a bracelet Helen mentioned that she’d seen Lady Elizabeth wearing. I believe you made it for her.”
Not knowing what he was getting at, Thom nodded. “It was a gift a long time ago.”
“Helen said the cuff design was unique, and I was hoping you might be able to make something similar for me.”
“For your wife?”
MacRuairi smiled. “Not exactly.” When he described what he wanted, Thom had an inkling of who it might be for. He’d both seen the tattoos the Guardsmen had on their arms and heard mention of the Ghost—a spy they had in the English court. But he hadn’t realized the spy was a woman.
“Can you do it?” MacRuairi asked.
“As soon as you get me the materials. It shouldn’t take me long.”
“Good, but take as long as you need. I want this to be... it’s special.”
Thom nodded; he understood. “You said there were two reasons?”
“Aye, it seems we won’t have the night off after all. The king has a mission for us.”
They’d only just returned from their last mission earlier today, but Thom wasn’t complaining. Every mission gave him a chance to prove himself and brought him closer to a place in the Guard. It seemed as if everything he’d ever wanted was in his reach. But at times he felt like he was walking on a razor’s edge—one wrong move and everything would come tumbling down. “When do we leave?”
“You have a few hours, but you might want to pack an extra apple or two for whatever horse you end up using—we’ve a long ride ahead of us.”
Thom muttered a foul curse, and MacRuairi shook his head. “I didn’t think anyone was as unnatural as Saint on a horse. But you put him to shame.”
Thom told him to bugger off, and then shook his head. “How the hell did an Islander become such a good rider anyway? Aren’t you supposed to travel in ships?”
A flash of white suggested MacRuairi was actually grinning. “I’m good with those, too. Just wait until we go out west for your training. I hope you know how to swim.”
Thom looked at him, realized he was serious, and cursed again.
MacRuairi wasn’t just smiling now, he was laughing. “You are going to have a fun two weeks. MacLeod calls it Perdition, but for you it might be worse than hell.”
Thom wasn’t even going to ask. He was sure he didn’t want to know but would find out soon enough. The Guardsmen seemed to be assuming his place on the team. But until MacLeod came to him, he wasn’t going to take anything for granted.
After MacRuairi left, Thom finished working the tang of the sword and cleaned up. He’d hoped to finish his conversation with Elizabeth tonight, but maybe this was better. He’d give her the night to think. But it was time to put this uncertainty between them to rest. For all their sakes, she needed to make a decision.
Elizabeth practically ran back to the abbey—Simon had to hustle to keep up with her—but she couldn’t escape the truth. It was the only thing that explained her inability to let Thom go, her seeking him out, her sinful conduct, and the jealousy and panic she’d felt over Lady Marjorie. Her love for Thom wasn’t just friendship. Nor was it just lust.
Shelovedhim.
But as she had said to Izzie this morning on their way back from the market, what did it matter? Did her grand epiphany really change anything? Was the realization that she loved Thom enough reason for her to refuse Randolph, or did it just make the whole thing more difficult and painful?
Marry me... I can make you happy.
