The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(4)

One by one the other prisoners were subdued, but the two men seemed as if they could hold off capture forever.

But of course they couldn’t. Without armor and proper weaponry, all it took was one well-placed pike in the side of the blond-haired warrior, and one powerful hit of the hammer on the ribs of the Scot, and the English had regained the upper hand.

Her heart was pounding. Tears were streaming from her eyes as her brother’s soldiers surrounded the two men.

God in heaven, they are going to kill them!

Without thinking of what she was doing, only knowing she had to put a stop to the fighting, she raced down the stairs, heedless of Lenore’s worried cries behind her. She reached the yard only moments after her brother and his men, two of whom prevented her from going farther than a few feet beyond the tower door. “You shouldn’t be here, my lady,” one of the men said. “Go back to the tower. This will all be over soon.”

That was exactly what she feared.

“I need to see my brother.” She tried to look around one of the men, but with the crowd of people who’d flooded the courtyard she couldn’t see anything.

She heard her brother’s voice from up ahead. “What is the meaning of this?”

A series of English voices responded with “stealing food,” “find out,” and “Scots attacked.”

“Your man was beating a man to death for something he could not answer. He would have killed him had I not stopped him.”

The sound of the deep, powerful voice reverberated through her like a clap of thunder, jolting in its intensity. It was her Scot; she knew it.

Her brother said something she couldn’t hear and a few more English voices went back and forth.

Then her brother spoke again. “Take him to the pit, where he won’t incite a damned riot.”

“Is this your English justice, Clifford?” that deep voice sneered. “Killing a man for defending someone who could not fight back? I could have taken a dozen of your men with me—next time I will.”

Rosalin tried to push through again, but one of the men—a knight who she thought was named Thomas—forcibly held her back. “Your brother won’t like you being here, my lady. You need to get back to the tower.”

“But what will happen to them?”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Why, they’ll be executed, of course.”

The blood drained from her face. She must have looked like she was going to faint, because he called another one of the soldiers over and together they steered her back into the tower.

Rosalin waited for what seemed like hours for her brother to return to his solar. Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap. The glass of wine that she’d drunk for courage tossed in her stomach.

She dreaded the conversation ahead of her but knew it could not be avoided. She couldn’t let those men be killed because of what she’d done.

It was dark when her brother finally entered the room. He looked surprised to see her. “What are you doing here, Rosie-lin? I thought you’d be readying for the evening meal.” He frowned, seeing the distress on her face. “Is something wrong?”

She blinked up at him, feeling the heat gather in her throat and behind her eyes. “It’s all my fault!” Unable to hold back, the tears and emotion came pouring out. “I gave them the food. I didn’t think there would be any harm and they looked so hungry. I was only trying to help.” She latched on to his arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t punish them.”

The jumbled confession took him a moment to sort through, but when he did, his face darkened. It wasn’t often that her brother was angry with her, and she hated it. “Damn it, Rosalin, I told you to stay away from them! Do you have any idea how dangerous those men are?”

“I do. I swear I didn’t go anywhere near them.” She explained how she took the scraps of food to the cart at night. He seemed to relax a little, and his expression wasn’t quite as thunderous. “I only wanted to ease their suffering. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He gave her a long, steady look. “You never meant for things like this to happen, which is exactly why you don’t belong here. Your heart is too soft for war. These men are not one of your scullery maids with blistered hands or a serving wench who needs to spend more time with her sick baby rather than tend her duties.”

“But Katie’s hands were so chapped they were bleeding, and it wasn’t fair that Meggie lost a week’s pay because she missed a few hours—”

Her brother held up his hand, stopping her. “That’s what I’m trying to say. These men are hardened killers—they are not deserving of your kindness.”

She bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze. “I had to do something.”

She heard him sigh and a moment later, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her to his side. Relief that he’d forgiven her only made her sob harder. “I’m so sorry.”

He murmured soothing words and rocked her against him until she quieted. It reminded her of the night her father had died, and the night less than a year later when their mother had followed. “You can’t stay here, little one. I should have sent you home right away, but I was selfish. I missed you, and seeing your face was like a breath of spring air in this cesspit.”

She looked up at him, eyes burning. “You are sending me away?”