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A bold move. One he could not be more proud of. “There is just this one part,” he said, pointing to a line in the letter. She moved toward him to look at it, realizing too late she’d been well and truly trapped. He pulled her into the bed, leaving the missive, and its repercussions, for later.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“So good of you to join us,” Holt quipped as Haydn and Phillipa joined the others at a table in the hall. The benches easily accommodated them all with room to spare. Reluctant to be separated from her, he sat next to Hamon and pulled his wife down next to him.

In response, she shoved him with her hip, letting Haydn know she didn’t appreciate his heavy-handedness. Or maybe she did. Her sideways smile was for him alone.

“Maybe you need more time abovestairs?” Isaac asked across from them.

“They’ve been up there for the entire day,” Holt pointed out, flagging down a serving maid.

“Though we are not complaining,” Hamon added. “Not after so many days on the road.”

They’d been moving at such a brutal pace. Last eve he’d torn himself away from Phillipa long enough to inform Holt they would be staying here another night. Neither his brother nor the men complained, the town large enough and inn lively enough to hold their interest. Well-rested, they would be on the move again tomorrow.

Once settled, their mugs filled with ale, Holt raised his and looked at Haydn’s wife. “Phillipa, welcome to the family. You are well and truly a Waryn now, a member of the Brotherhood.”

They drank, the mood at their table as jovial as the one in the hall. Fiddlers played as nobles and merchants and travellers drank and sang and laughed. A fight could just as easily break out with nothing but a moment’s notice, especially as this particular inn was more of a tavern with room attached. But at present, all was well. And Haydn made no apologies for enjoying peace when it was offered. Turmoil was sure to follow, and when it did, they’d confront it.

“The Brotherhood?”

His men exchanged glances.

It was time.

“It sprang up years ago, even before Edward sacked Berwick and life at the border went from dangerous to downright deadly.”

“A term,” Holt added, “not of our making.”

“You know my Aunt Catrina is the sister of the chief of Clan Kerr?” Haydn asked.

“Aye.”

“When I came to Kenshire for training,” Isaac added, “I’d heard the word bandied about, but it was only when Lord Kenshire, Haydn and Holt’s father, knighted me that others began to speak more freely of it.”

“It is an alliance between the Waryn family and Clan Kerr.”

“I see.” Phillipa looked between him and his brother. “But it is common knowledge, is it not? That your families are allied as they’re intermarried?”

Holt hid behind his mug. Isaac and Hamon clamped their mouths shut. Haydn leaned in toward his wife, tucked her hair behind one ear, and whispered. “Aye. But ’tis not common knowledge that we support their bid for independence.”

Her mouth dropped. He leaned back. There was more to tell her, but this was not the place for it. That his cousin Galien had been with Wallace both at Stirling and Falkirk. That Breac, as Lord Warden, used his influence to ensure safe passage for those, like his family, who also supported Scotland’s bid to sever ties with their king. That Rory, an Englishman, had trained with Wallace himself. That Laire, his uncle Reid’s daughter, fostered with a prominent English family and risked herself as a spy for Scotland.

“The corridor between Bristol and Brockburg,” he said quietly, “the men and women they protect. . . this is what the Brotherhood has come to stand for.”

“Our father,” Holt said, “was once a reiver. He had strong ties with many reiving families, and they work together to ensure safe crossing.”

“Your family. . .” Phillipa was obviously not prepared for the news. He was sorry to have surprised her thus, but she needed to know. “Is allied with. . . reivers?”

“They are not all bad.” He shrugged. “Some, we consider kin.”

“But. . .” She cleared her throat. “I was told the reivers are thieves and kidnappers.”

He didn’t deny it, and could not resist laughing at the look on his wife’s face. His companions were equally amused.

“You will adore them,” he promised her. “At least those who seek shelter at Rymerden or Kenshire when we visit there.”

Phillipa seemed skeptical of that.