“Aye, it feels like another world, doesn’t it?”
“How did you find this place?”
“I didn’t. The locals have known about it for years.”
“It’s a great hiding place. Did you come here often when you were young?”
He gave her a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye and didn’t respond.
She didn’t take the hint. “Is that why you joined Bruce? To reclaim your lands?”
He shook his head. “Do you ever give up?”
She thought about it. “No.”
He sighed. She didn’t think he was going to answer, but after a moment he said, “That was part of the reason, but it was mostly because my chief asked me to.” He gave her a sharp glance. “Don’t ask; I can’t tell you any more.”
She bit her lip, looking down at the dark pool of water. She didn’t want any more secrets between them. She had to tell him the truth of who she was, but she needed to know his feelings for her first. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.” He reached out and cupped her chin with his hand. The gentle touch sent shivers of awareness running through her. Duty had become an unpalatable reason for marriage—especially with him. “It’s too dangerous for you, Ellie. I’m trying to protect you.”
He was right; it was dangerous. That was what made his involvement with Bruce so terrifying.
“What about the danger to you?” Ellie felt the tears gather in her eyes. Despite her father’s loyalty to King Edward, Ellie was sympathetic to her sister’s husband, whom she’d always admired. But sympathetic to Bruce’s plight or not, she knew his cause was a lost one. Bruce’s bid for the crown had failed. He and his supporters were surviving on borrowed time. It chilled her blood to imagine what the king would do when he caught up with them—and catch up with them he would. “How long do you think you can outrun the English fleet?”
He dropped his hand, his jaw hardening defiantly. “As long as I need to.”
“And then what happens? You die on some battlefield or, worse, at the end of a rope or an executioner’s axe?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “maybe not.”
Ellie bristled with frustration. Nothing ever penetrated. Nothing was ever serious. He seemed oblivious to the danger. “Don’t you care that you could die?”
“Dying is part of fighting, Ellie. And that’s what I do, I fight.” He smiled. “And usually I win.”
She didn’t doubt it. She’d seen him wield a blade. With his size and strength he would be deadly on the battlefield. “But you can’t win this time. Edward is too powerful. What do you have, a few hundred men?”
“It’s not over yet.”
Apparently, he possessed a stubborn streak of which she hadn’t been aware. “You think Bruce has a chance?”
“More than a chance.”
She heard something in his voice that she’d never heard before. It was deep, reverent, and unwavering. It took her a moment to recognize what it was: loyalty. Suddenly the inscription on his sword came back to her: always faithful.
“But you would follow him anyway,” she said, almost to herself. Even if it meant his own death.
He wasn’t incapable of forming attachments at all. If he could feel loyalty like that to Bruce, maybe it was possible that he could care for her. He wasn’t her father. Just because he was handsome and charismatic, it had been wrong of her to assume he would be incapable of deep emotions.
Without the bias of her mother’s heartbreak clouding her vision, Hawk’s actions in the past week took on an entirely different cast. He’d spent every free moment of time with her, making excuses just to be with her. Although his purpose might have been to see her relax, she hadn’t been the only one having fun. He’d laughed and smiled just as much as she did. He’d told her personal things about his family—things she suspected he shared with few people. And then there was the fact that he’d taken a message to her family. Something he didn’t need to do and hadn’t done without some risk.
He acted differently with her than he did with anyone else.
But it wasn’t just his actions. It was a sense—a bone-deep knowledge inside herself—that he cared for her. It was the way she seemed to spark his temper like no one else, the way he talked to her, the way his body jumped under her fingertips, and the intense, tender look in his eyes when he touched her. It had to mean something.
Even Meg had noticed it.
She took a deep breath and turned her face to his. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
