Page 282 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Aye. I promised. But that doesna’ mean I have to say it out loud.”

“It does. Say it.”

She couldn’t.

Rhoslyn dropped her gaze. “If ye dinna’ return, I will go immediately to Lord Melrose and marry him.” The words were out of her mouth, but she couldn’t believe her lips had formed the sounds.

With a finger beneath her chin, St. Claire tilted her face upwards. “I plan to return.”

She couldn’t bring her eyes to meet his.

“Look at me, love.”

She forced her gaze upward.

“You are not to leave the castle until I return.” Or you leave to go to Melrose, she heard the unspoken words. “If I return and find you one foot outside the castle, you will force me to punish you.”

Rhoslyn snorted. “Beware, St. Claire, ye might return to find I locked the gate.”

A corner of his mouth turned upward. “Good. Now kiss me before I go.”

He was truly going. Going into a battle against his countrymen who had come to kill him. If he had agreed to go with them, would he have reached Wales or would he have died on the road by some unseen robber? Edward wouldn’t care how his assassin carried out the order, he would only care that St. Claire was dead.

St. Claire lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. He pulled her flush against his body and Rhoslyn melted against his solid warmth. The kiss was gentle and too short.

When he lifted his head, she said, “Ye need no’ go yet. There is an hour yet before they arrive.”

He gave a low laugh. “Aye, but I must meet them, remember?”

Her heart pounded. Why did he have to join the battle? He knew the assassin would seek him out. What if there was more than one? What if all five hundred had been commanded to kill him?

Rhoslyn startled when St. Claire laid a palm on her belly. The warmth of his fingers penetrated the fabric of her dress and she closed her eyes, memorizing his touch.

“He is quiet today,” St. Claire said.

“Aye,” Rhoslyn replied. Perhaps he knows his father is leaving.

“He is growing large.”

She flushed. Her girth had increased and she had become embarrassed to disrobe in front of him. But St. Claire wouldn’t allow her to go to her room to change. He insisted she stay.

He dipped his head and placed a kiss on her belly, then straightened. “I will see you when I return.”

He turned and strode to the door. Rhoslyn took a step after them, then stopped. Growing weepy would only make leave-taking harder for him. She didn’t want him worrying about her when he faced the army that had been sent to kill him.

He left without a backwards glance, which, though hurtful, was best, and she was grateful. If he didn’t return, she wanted to remember him holding her, caressing her belly and thinking of their child. Not a last look that conveyed...conveyed what? I’m sorry to leave? I will miss you...I love you?

She sat on the bench with a thud. St. Claire had never spoken words of love. He cared for her well-being, that much was obvious. But love? That was a different matter. But whether he loved her or not, she loved him.

Rhoslyn closed her eyes and forced back the tears that pressed like a raging tide against her eyelids. Thank God he hadn’t looked back when he left. She would have surely blurted the words while crying.

What would happen if he died before knowing?

How would she hide the truth from him if he returned?