Page 259 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Twenty

Rhoslyn walked ahead of St. Claire into his chambers. She had insisted her grandfather take her bed. He’d acquiesced when she stated that she would sleep on a bench beside his bed if he slept anywhere but in her chambers. She hadn’t given thought to the fact that meant she had to continue sleeping in St. Claire’s bed. So here she was.

St. Claire closed the door and continued to the bed as he lifted his chainmail over his head. Rhoslyn hurried to his side and grasped the armor as he lowered it. He paused and met her gaze, then let her take the mail. She set it on the bench near the window, then hurried back in time to take his gambeson from him. Rhoslyn set that on the bench with the chainmail, then poured two goblets of wine and gave him one.

He took it, then sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and took a long draw on the wine. He set the goblet on the bench then reached for a boot. Rhoslyn set her goblet on the bench, then knelt and grasped his booted foot. He paused and angled his eyes to meet hers. Rhoslyn gave a tremulous smile and he released his boot and leaned back against the bed.

Gently, Rhoslyn tugged the boot from his foot, then took the other one off. She rose and crossed to the table where a pitcher of water sat and brought it and some clean clothes to the bench. St. Claire leaned against the foot of the bed, eyes closed. Rhoslyn wetted a cloth and began washing his left foot. He started and she realized he’d dozed off. His eyes snapped onto her, then he relaxed and she continued.

“You went to Lady Taresa because of me?” she said.

“Aye.”

“You do no’ wish to be the Earl of Baliman?” she asked.

“I am not the Earl of Baliman.”

“It seems ye are.”

“I do not have to be anyone I do not wish to be,” he replied. “That is why I came here.”

She paused in washing his feet and looked up at him.

He stared into his wine goblet for a long moment, then his eyes shifted to her. “I told you, I tire of war.”

“Yet, ye came to Scotland.” She went back to washing his feet.

He grunted a laugh. “Aye, mayhap I should question the sanity in that decision.”

“A man such as you does no’ have the luxury of giving up war.”

He lifted a brow. “You think I cannot live in peace?”

“You might wish to live in peace,” she said.

A long silence drew out before he said, “Does this mean you and I will be at war?”

She dried his feet, then picked up the basin and cloths and crossed to the table. “Our peoples are at war.”

“Not so,” he said. “We have been at peace for some time.”

Rhoslyn brought the pitcher of wine to him and refilled his goblet. “It canna’ last, as ye know,” she said.

“So you have decided you and I must be at war.”

She met his gaze. “What do ye want me to say?”

He rose, towering over her, and leaned close. “I want you to say you do not hate me.”

“Hate?” she whispered against a dry throat. “’Tis is a strong word.”

“It is a strong emotion.”

She could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“I will find the man responsible for the attack on your grandfather. And I will kill Dayton.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth and a tremor rippled through her stomach.