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Though he hoped Toren would leave their argument be, it wasn’t long before his brother yelled out, “We still need to talk.”

Luckily, their hasty pursuit south toward the border prohibited any further discussion. For now.

Damn Alex. This whole mess with Toren was his middle brother’s fault for giving up his position. Reid liked Clara well enough, but if Alex had not married her and moved to Dunmure Tower, he and Toren would not have spent a good portion of the summer disagreeing about the future of their clan.

The elders would choose a second soon, and while Toren would have it be him, Reid was content as his brother’s chief guard.

“Tracks,” Toren yelled to the men, jarring him out of his thoughts. His brother was right. They were getting closer, and at this pace, the question was not whether they would catch up to the English bastards, but whether he could follow his brother’s decree.

The tracks led them directly to a camp of five men who were very much reivers by the look of them. Oddly enough, there were no cattle in sight and the men they’d come upon did not even attempt to fight or flee. Instead, they allowed themselves to be surrounded by Toren and his men.

Something wasn’t right.

The fools had not even bothered to cross the border into England before stopping. They were either the most inept reivers Reid had come across or too stupid to realize who they’d stolen from.

Reid had just ridden up beside his brother when one of the dismounted reivers rushed toward Toren, moving with astounding speed.

Reid barely realized he’d dismounted or drawn his dagger. He’d positioned himself between his brother and the reiver so quickly that none of the others had time to react. Toren’s would-be attacker lifted his lang spear and positioned it directly in line to hit his brother. Reid tossed his dirk through the air, its aim true. The man howled in pain as the spear dropped from his hand. He threw his other hand into the air, blood beginning to seep through and color his sleeve red.

Reid grabbed the man near the top of his quilted gambeson and yanked his dirk from the man’s arm.

“You threaten the life of the wrong man,” he growled, pressing the blood-stained dagger to the man’s throat. The reiver’s life was in his hands now. If he said the wrong thing, Reid could not be responsible for his actions.

“’Twas foolish,” he cried. “We were caught unaware.”

Reid did not look to his brother for permission. He didn’t glance at any of the other men, knowing he was protected. If the reivers moved, his clansmen would cut them down where they cowered.

“You stole from Clan Kerr,” he said. “You threaten its chief.”

The look in the man’s eyes surprised him. He was entirely unafraid.

“You and your men will come with us to the warden.”

The man offered neither a response nor an argument. The English bastard simply stared straight back at him as if daring him to do his worst.

Reid itched to do so.

“Enough,” Toren called, deciding for him. His brother dismounted and plunged his hands into the saddlebag at his side. He knew precisely what Toren intended. The reivers would be bound and taken to James Douglas, Lord Warden of the Eastern Marches. They would be held until the next Day of Truce, whereupon judgment would be meted out for their crimes.

Reid turned the man around and allowed Toren and the others to begin the task of securing the prisoners.

“Where are the cattle?” he asked, and received glares rather than a response. He caught Toren’s eye, his silent question answered by a shake of the head.

They would let Douglas question them.

One of Reid’s men clapped him on the back, presumably for protecting his brother, but he could not join in his clansman’s relief.

Something was amiss with these men, this raid, and he intended to find out what it was.

* * *

“Will you meet me later?” Allie Bowman asked her brother-in-law.

Aidan crossed his arms. He disliked keeping their training sessions private, but Allie had just escaped an unwanted betrothal, preceded by a lifetime of others making her decisions for her. She was owed this one secret.

“You are relentless,” he said with a smile, a sure sign he was about to say yes. “It will be dark soon—”

“But not yet.”