The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(116)

Twenty-six

Rosalin and Sir Alex’s sudden appearance at the castle gate had caused something of an uproar—to put it mildly. She had been crushed in her sleep-roused brother’s overcome embrace, while Sir Alex had been surrounded by soldiers and very nearly tossed in the pit prison until she’d threatened to jump in there with him. Instead, he’d been taken to the guardhouse. After days of questioning, he had been ordered to London to make his case to the king in person.

Saying goodbye to him, and then watching him ride out with a small army of her brother’s men, was the hardest thing she’d done since leaving Douglas. Sir Alex was her last link to Robbie, and seeing him go felt like the final break. The sense of loss was profound, though God knew, Robbie didn’t deserve her heartbreak or her tears. She should hate him for what he’d done. Each morning she expected her brother to call for her, to give her the horrible news that would all but ensure it.

But two days passed, and then three. Plenty of time for a messenger to have arrived from Brougham, bringing news of the attack. It wasn’t until the fifth day, when the soldier her brother sent after she’d told him of the attack returned, that she was called to Cliff’s solar to hear the hideous truth.

Her brother had his back to the door and was staring into the small fireplace as she entered. He appeared to be deep in thought.

She braced herself, expecting the worst.

He turned, his hands clasped behind his back. “There has been no attack.”

He might have toppled her to the floor. She swayed, flinched, or did some odd combination of the two. “What?”

Cliff met her gaze, and she could see the worry in the green eyes that were so like her own. Since she’d returned, her brother had treated her as something akin to a delicate piece of porcelain, assiduously avoiding any mention of subjects that might cause her distress, such as her abduction, Robbie Boyd, or the letter she’d written him. He knew something was terribly wrong but was waiting for her to explain.

“Brougham has not been attacked. Boyd must have discovered what really happened at the village in time.”

Cliff had explained everything about the attack, validating her trust in him. Not that it mattered. Or did it? Why had Robbie changed his mind? What had turned him from his course? And most important, what did it mean?

She must have paled or looked as if she were going to faint, because Cliff crossed the room, took her by the elbow, and helped her sit on one of the cushioned benches before the fire.

She couldn’t seem to think. “You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“But why?”

Her brother gave her a long look. “I suspect you can answer that question better than I.”

Before bringing Sir Henry and the other prisoners back to Berwick, Cliff had sent a message to Robbie explaining what had happened in the village and agreeing to meet in one week’s time (to discuss the contents of her missive and the exchange of coin), but it would have arrived after they both left.

“I’m not sure I can. Robbie was so determined. I tried—begged him—to turn from his course, but he refused.” Tears swam before her eyes as she stared up into her brother’s grim face. “It was horrible.”

He swore and sat down beside her, tucking her under his arm while she sobbed, the way he used to when she was a child. “The bastard doesn’t deserve your tears, little one. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.”

That only made her sob harder.

“Tell me what happened.”

And she did. Well, most of it at least, leaving out the more intimate details, although she suspected Cliff filled in the gaps well enough. When she was done, his mouth was pulled in a hard, angry line. “I’ll kill him.”

“No! Please. I just want to forget any of this ever happened.”

She took the folded square of linen he handed her and dabbed her nose and eyes.

Cliff’s expression was no less fierce, but his voice softened. “Are you sure about that, Rosie-lin?” He stopped. “I’ve fought against Boyd for a long time, and I’ve never known him to hesitate. But something caused him to pull back, and I suspect that something was you.”

Rosalin sniffled and took a deep breath. She shook her head. “Even if he changed his mind about the attack, it doesn’t matter. It would never work. Who I am will always be between us. I cannot be with a man who does not trust and love me.”

He squeezed her tighter and sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted off him. “I hate to see you in pain, but I won’t say I’m sorry to hear that. You can’t see it now, but this will be for the best. Anything between you would have been all but impossible.”

Rosalin blinked up at him. “But not impossible?”

He looked away, his mouth pursed as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. It was much the same look Robbie got when her brother’s name was mentioned. “I want you to be happy, but handing my sister over to that barbarian would be asking a lot. And I would never have done it if I wasn’t certain that he could make you happy. The brigand would have been hard pressed to prove it to me.” He squeezed her one more time and kissed the top of her head. “Forget about him, Rosie-lin. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “And Cliff?” He looked at her. “Thank you for not trying to make me hate him.”