The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(108)

She stopped so suddenly that Rosalin looked up from her needlework. Elizabeth’s faerie-princess-beautiful face looked as if it were made of ice and about to crack.

Joanna covered the awkward pause. “Aye, they carried us across. I remember.”

Elizabeth recovered and managed a small smile. “It was a long time ago. We were children.” She seemed to be telling herself this.

“Aye, but the important things do not change,” Joanna said softly.

Elizabeth met her sister-in-law’s gaze for an instant, and then turned away as if she didn’t want to hear whatever she was trying to say. She turned to Rosalin. “Jo is right. You have nothing to fear from my brother—reputation notwithstanding.” She smiled cheekily. “Besides, with the way Boyd looks at you, I suspect he’d kill James for frowning at you the wrong way.”

Rosalin tried not to blush but couldn’t help but be pleased that Elizabeth had noticed. Elizabeth stood near the window peering out into the yard. “Your Boyd is quite handsome in a fierce, imposing sort of way. Every time he arrives with James he causes quite a stir. All the young women from the village are quite put out, you know. There’s been a lot of talk.”

“Gossip, you mean,” Joanna said sternly. “You should not listen to the maidservants, Lizzie.”

Rosalin was dying to ask her what they were saying but managed to refrain.

Elizabeth moved away from the window, and Rosalin had to resist the urge to jump up and change places with her, realizing that Robbie was probably outside.

“How else would I learn anything?” Elizabeth grinned.

They spoke of other matters for a while, but eventually Rosalin managed to find a way to ask Joanna something that had piqued her curiosity the first time she’d heard James Douglas greet his wife, and then again today. “Joanna, what does mo ghrá mean?”

Joanna smiled. “It’s a term of affection—an endearment. It means ‘my love.’”

Rosalin felt her heart rise up high in her chest and lock in her throat, cutting off her breath. My love. Not “my beautiful one.” The sneaky devil! He’d lied to her! Lied!

And she’d never been more happy in her life. He did love her. Her unease about his reasons for marrying faded away, and all that remained was happiness and excitement. She couldn’t wait for Cliff’s response to arrive.

Robbie felt as if his soul had been trapped halfway between heaven and hell, and the devil and God were battling over his fate. The wait for Clifford’s response was agonizing. The separation from Rosalin was unbearable. Literally. As in he couldn’t bear it any longer.

To hell with Seton! To hell with Douglas! He wasn’t going to waste any more of whatever time he and Rosalin had left together. God willing, it would be longer than a day or two.

As much as Robbie told himself that he must be half-crazed to let himself get carried away with the futility of her writing to Clifford, he couldn’t help being moved by her certainty and absolute belief in her brother. Robbie wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe it was possible. So much so that he’d gone against his instincts and done something he’d never thought he’d do in this lifetime: trusted an Englishman, or rather, woman.

Married? Christ, he still couldn’t believe it. Three weeks ago, the thought would never have crossed his mind. Even after what had happened between them, he’d never thought it possible. But Seton was right. He’d acted selfishly. He’d wanted to make her his, when he knew damned good and well she couldn’t be. He had to at least try to make it right. He just hoped to hell he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

Seton had been right about a lot of things, it turned out. And now Robbie’s future hinged on the good graces of Sir Robert Clifford. The whole world seemed to have turned upside down.

With a plan in place for how he could right at least part of it, Robbie waited for his opportunity. Getting her alone wasn’t easy with Elizabeth Douglas seemingly tied to her hip, but the moment Joanna and Elizabeth appeared in the Hall to prepare for the evening meal, he slid up the stairs to Rosalin’s chamber. She rarely ventured into the Hall unless she was certain he would be there.

She was turned away from the door, looking out the window, when she bade him enter. “Just put the tray on the table,” she said.

Instead, he slid his arm around her waist and lowered his mouth to whisper in her ear, “Looking for someone?”

She yelped and spun around. “You startled me!” He grinned, and she put her hands on her hips. “As a matter of fact, I was looking for someone. I heard from Lady Joanna that Sir Thomas was expected in the next few days.”

He was beginning to understand why Douglas got so prickly every time Joanna mentioned Randolph’s name. He would have to keep her far away from MacGregor. He pulled her up hard against him and said darkly, “That isn’t funny, Rosalin.”

His warning tone had no effect on her grin and her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I disagree. I find it quite humorous. What is it about Sir Thomas that makes all the rest of you flare up like prickly bears? His handsome face? Those gorgeous blue eyes? The knightly—”

He stopped her with a kiss. A long, searing kiss that left them both flushed and breathing heavily.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned, sliding his mouth around to devour her neck.

He cupped her br**sts and started to work the ties of her gown. “Wait,” she said, looking up at him. “Did my brother’s response arrive—is that why you are here?”