The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(105)

The shocked cry that had risen to her lips when Rosalin saw the two bloodied men died in her throat—and then in her heart.

She froze as Robbie’s words washed over her in an icy veil of hurt and disbelief. She didn’t know what was worse—to hear the words of marriage she’d so longed to hear uttered so crudely, or to hear that marriage linked to revenge on her brother.

He didn’t mean it, she told herself. He couldn’t mean it.

“How do you plan to do that?” Seton said. “She’s a hostage, remember? Clifford will never let you have her, and if you attempt to keep her, he’ll come at you with everything he has—which he might do anyway if he discovers what you’ve done. Do you think he’ll keep the truce if he learns you’ve violated his sister? You know how important this mission is. You were supposed to be keeping the Borders under control, and instead you are going to unleash a firestorm. Just when the king is getting a foothold in the Tayside, he’s going to have to come clean up your damned mess.”

“He didn’t violate me.” Rosalin spoke in a whisper, but both men turned to her as if she’d announced her presence with the boom of a death knell. “And as I told Robbie before, I have no intention of telling my brother anything. Your truce is perfectly safe.”

She lifted her chin, tried to control the shaking that threatened to consume her limbs, and descended the stairs as regally as a…princess. Both men watched her approach with varying levels of discomfort—Sir Alex with embarrassment and Robbie with two things she’d never thought to see on his face: shame and fear. He should be feeling both for what he’d just said.

“I decided to come down for the evening meal.” She looked at Robbie and despite her hurt, felt her heart lurch at the sight of his face. “When I didn’t see you inside, I changed my mind. On my way back upstairs, I heard someone shout.” She eyed them both, taking in every bruised, bloody, and battered inch of them. They looked horrible. Noticing the unnatural position of Robbie’s fingers on his left hand, she had to force her feet not to move to him. “I don’t need to ask what you were fighting about. I heard.”

Sir Alex recovered first and stepped forward. “I am sorry you had to see this, my lady. Sorry for all of this. You never should have been here in the first place. If you wish to return to England now, I will take you.”

Rosalin’s breath caught in surprise. She looked at Robbie, expecting him to argue, but his mouth was clamped shut. He didn’t seem to want to meet her gaze. What did it mean? What had happened here? Why wasn’t he trying to reassure her? And why was he looking so guilty?

He cared about her—loved her—this couldn’t be about revenge on her brother. He hadn’t meant it. A couple of hours ago he was teasing her and they were making love in the sunshine.

She turned to Alex and shook her head. “Thank you, Sir Alex, but that is not necessary. I do not wish to return to England.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robbie relax. The relief on his face told her she’d been right: he did care. The question was how much. A question that could not be answered with Sir Alex standing in watch. “Would you give us a few moments, please?” she asked him. “I think there are some things Robbie and I need to discuss.”

Sir Alex looked as if he wanted to disagree, but after a long glance at Robbie, he headed off toward the river, presumably to clean himself up.

As soon as he was gone, Rosalin couldn’t wait any longer. She crossed the distance to Robbie in a few steps and put her hand on his battered face. “Are you all right?”

He pulled away—jerked away, actually. “I’m fine, Rosalin. I’m not a child—I don’t need comforting.”

She flinched. Were his words not enough, now he needed to rebuff her concern?

He swore and dragged his fingers—the uninjured ones on his right hand—through his hair. “Damn it. I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s mine. I’m not sure how much of that you saw or heard. We fought. I lost and said some things I didn’t mean.”

What hadn’t he meant, that he was going to marry her, or the reason? Suddenly her mouth dropped open, realizing what else he’d said. “You lost?”

She wished the words back when his face darkened. To say that it had to be a blow to his pride was an understatement, and the damage to his pride was obviously as raw and battered as his body.

His shoulders tensed. “Aye. He said some things to make me angry, I lost control, and he took advantage of my mistake, but that is no excuse. He beat me. Damn it, he beat me.”

“Surely you’ve lost before?”

“In that kind of contest? Not in a long time.”

Rosalin was quiet for a moment, watching the emotions war on his face. “What is really bothering you, the fact that you were beaten or that Sir Alex was the one to do it?” He gave her a hard look that told her the question had struck a nerve. “Somehow I don’t think if it had been the Black Douglas you would be so angry.”

His jaw hardened until the muscle in his jaw ticced, which she took to be agreement.

She took a step closer to him and put a hand on his arm, relieved when this time he did not shake her off. “I heard what he said about not being your partner anymore.”

Belatedly, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to know about his part in Bruce’s phantoms, but he didn’t appear to notice. “It’s for the best.”