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But Esme was succeeding in putting tiny cracks in that wall.

“You are clearly loved here,” she said, reaching out and impulsively putting a hand on his arm. “I saw it tonight, the way the crowd cheered for you. You are a great warrior and that is something to be proud of.”

Titus was mid-chew when she put her hand on him. He stopped, looking at the hand on his arm and feeling it like a brand. He stared at it a moment, her beautiful hand over his bronzed skin. It made something in his chest churn. He suspected it was all of that emotion he kept buried, struggling to get out.

Slowly, he resumed chewing.

“This is where I’ve found myself,” he said, swallowing what was in his mouth. “I have found greatness here, but I dunna intend tae remain here forever.”

To his disappointment, she removed her hand. “What do you intend to do?”

He shrugged, spooning the last of the stew into his mouth. “Travel,” he said. “I want tae go tae far and mysterious places. I want tae see where the real gladiators walked. I want tae see great mountains and great rivers. I’ve never been out of Scotland.”

She smiled faintly. “Then you must go to Navarre someday,” she said. “In my town, there are ancient Roman ruins. You can see their avenues, their gutters, and the remains of their homes. When I was a child, I used to play there with other children from the village. We pretended it was our own little village. I even found a coin there, once, buried in the floor of one of the houses.”

Now, it was his turn to listen intently, which was something Titus wasn’t used to. He wasn’t a good listener because he didn’t really care about others, but with Esme, he found himself interested in what she was saying.

“Tell me about yer town,” he said.

Her smile grew as she thought on the place where she was born. “It is dry and warm most of the time,” she said. “The land is arid and the village is surrounded by mountains, but a river runs near our village, lazy and green. In the summer, you can smell the rosemary on the breeze, as it grows wild on the hills. My father’s castle is a great fortress, built from stone that is the color of gold. At sunset, when the light hits it just so, it looks like a golden castle.”

He nodded, envisioning such a place in his mind’s eye. “I canna imagine a place that is warm and dry always,” he said. “Even now, during these days in August, it is warm, but that will be brief. In September, the storms will come and it will grow cold again. It would be nice tae have the warmth all year.”

Esme nodded. “I cannot wait to return to it,” she said, her smile fading. “I… I am hoping that I still have a home to return to.”

He could see the melancholy wash over her features. It wasn’t something he understood, longing for a home that he once had, but he could feel sympathy for her nonetheless.

“How do ye plan tae get there?” he asked. “Ye speak of earning money for passage, but how do ye plan tae go? It willna be an easy undertaking.”

She nodded, trying to shake off the melancholy. “I know,” she said. “But I shall go to Edinburgh and find passage to Calais. From Calais, I can find passage to Bilbao. From there, it is only four days to Santacara on a swift horse.”

It sounded simple enough, but travel was seldom so easy. “And ye plan tae travel alone?” he said. “Ye dunna plan tae hire protection?”

She shrugged. “I had not thought on it,” she said. “I would have to earn more money to pay for protection.”

“But it isna safe tae travel alone. Ye know that.”

She nodded, putting on a brave front. “I know, but I must go home and I cannot wait for the time it would take to earn money for protection. I pray that God will protect me. That is good enough.”

Titus couldn’t figure out if she was delusional or simply faithful. Either way, he thought it was a foolish stance, but he didn’t say so. But he knew one thing –

She wasn’t going to travel alone.

He wasn’t going to let her.

He wasn’t going to bring it up, not now, but he certainly intended to at some point. She may have been too honorable to take his money when he offered to pay for her passage, but he wouldn’t let her refuse his money to pay for protection.

He was going to pay for it whether or not she liked it.

Or perhaps he would go with her.

That last thought crept up on him without warning and, suddenly, he was reeling from the mere idea. He would go with her? He’d just finished telling her he wanted to travel, so why not? Great Bleeding Christ, it was a foolish thought.

He was foolish.

He was also exhausted.

Exhaustion was doing strange things to his mind.