Page 6

“Why, Bryston? What has happened?”

At his urging, she fell into pace beside him.

“An old enemy was sighted in Leith nae more than an hour ago.”

“Enemy?” Her mouth had gone dry as cold ash, and she licked her lower lip. “Does this have somethin’ to do with yer days as a buccaneer?”

He gave a sharp nod and propelled her forward. “We have nae time to waste, lass. I must see ye safe before I sail with the tide.”

“Yer leavin’?” She tried to sort her jumbled thoughts, not at all certain why that knowledge dismayed her. Perhaps because he’d only returned and he was rather a permanent fixture at Trentwick these past several months? “I thought ye didna sail anymore.”

“I still own a ship.” He didn’t elaborate.

Which to her knowledge, he hadn’t set foot upon in years, and he’d remained remarkably closed-mouth as to why.

His pace didn’t ease as he ushered her along beside him. Just like a man. Drag her with him because he was in danger, but refuse to explain what, exactly, was going on.

“Are those men ye sent after Keane part of yer crew?” They looked like what she’d always envisioned swashbucklers would.

“Aye.”

They’d reached the dirt track leading to the main road by then, and she looked behind her once more. There was still no sign of Keane, Marjorie, or the girls.

Mayhap they’d taken a tour of Holyrood Palace, which abutted the abbey. Elana had expressed a wish to do so.

“Why canna I wait for Keane and Marjorie?” Unease slithered along her spine as she quickened her pace to keep up with him. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Bryston. She wasn’t.

In point of fact, she’d sensed something was amiss before he’d arrived.

“Because I dinna ken if I was followed, and I’d see ye tucked away first.” His hand flexed around her elbow, and it occurred to her that he deliberately kept her near his side.

Shielding her?

From what?

Another tremor of alarm winged through her, causing her stomach to sink in that weird hollow way it did when she was startled or unnerved.

“And because my enemy was askin’ questions about ye and Roxdale that I dinna like,” Bryston elucidated.

“Couldna ye have simply sent a note, instead?” Branwen knitted her brow. Wasn’t he also endangering her and her family by meeting them at the Queen’s Arms?

She scooted her focus to the trees and shrubberies, viewing the area with new attentiveness and misgivings as wariness settled upon her.

Was this the reason she’d been unnerved earlier?

Had she sensed something was afoot?

Never as jolly or charming as Camden or Graeme Kennedy, or any of Keane’s other friends, the intense, alert man beside her had become a stranger.

“Nae.” His jaw spasmed, but he stared straight ahead, his slightly imperfect profile a testament to his nose once having been broken.

“Ye need to trust me, Branwen. I canna take the time to explain right now.”

Back to Branwen now, was he?

The bloody man blew hot and cold, as fickle as a female cat in heat.

“This disna make any sense,” Branwen said, tugging forcefully at her arm.