The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(43)

“Please, Sir Alex?” The shimmer in her eyes wasn’t completely feigned. She truly was exhausted. “Is there nothing you can do?”

“Seton!”

The deep voice from behind startled her. She dropped her hand from Alex’s arm, not realizing she’d put it there, and turned to find Boyd standing right behind them.

“How do you do that?” she snapped guiltily. Which was ridiculous, as she had nothing to feel guilty about. He’d refused her appeals, so she’d brought them to a more sympathetic source.

“Do what?”

“Sneak up behind people.”

“Practice,” he said, his eyes dark with something she didn’t recognize. “Return to your nephew. I need to speak to Sir Alex.”

The way he emphasized sir sounded like a slur.

She was tempted to argue, but something about his expression gave her second thoughts. She looked at Sir Alex questioningly, and he nodded. For some reason, her appeal seemed only to make Boyd more irate. From the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared at Sir Alex, he looked like a bull ready to charge. She wouldn’t want to be standing in the young knight’s shoes right now.

She hoped whatever had provoked his anger toward the other man didn’t have anything to do with her.

She gave Alex an apologetic look and started to walk off, but Boyd stopped her. “Lady Rosalin.”

She turned.

“You dropped something.”

Instinctively, she looked to the ground, but he reached out, took her hand, and turned it palm side up. A moment later it was filled with blue bows and threads of pink satin.

She gasped, her eyes flying to his. But his expression was as hard as granite and utterly unreadable.

“Be more careful where you leave things,” he said icily. “We wouldn’t want anyone to follow us.”

She swallowed slowly, her mouth dry, and nodded.

Robbie barely managed to wait long enough for her to be out of earshot before rounding on his partner. He leaned toward him, his muscles flaring for battle. “Stay the hell away from her, Dragon.”

He knew he was overreacting, but the black emotion that was surging through his blood right now wasn’t rational or controllable. It seemed to come over him every time he saw Lady Rosalin conversing with his partner. In other words, about every time he turned around. But it had really gone wild, nearly blinding him with rage, when he’d returned from picking up more of her damned ribbon to see their two golden heads bowed together and her hand on Seton’s arm.

Seton didn’t move a muscle, giving no indication that he perceived the threat. Instead, he gave Robbie a long, steady look. “No. I don’t think I shall. I rather like Lady Rosalin.”

“What do you mean you like her?” Robbie exploded. “Have you forgotten who she is?”

Seton shrugged indifferently. “We have much in common—as you are always pointing out. Or have you forgotten?”

“So now you are English?”

“Haven’t you been telling me that for seven years? Maybe I’ve decided to start listening to you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m done trying to defend my loyalties to you. I’m done trying to prove that the blood I’ve shed over the past seven years is just as Scottish as yours. It means that if I see a lady who has been ripped away from her family and everything she’s ever known, who is scared and needs help, I’m going to try to put her at ease—even if she happens to be English.”

Robbie was so stunned for a minute he didn’t know what to say.

“What is this really about, Raider?” Seton paused, scanning Robbie’s irate face, bunched shoulders, and tight fists. “You know what I think? I think you’re jealous. I think you want her, and you can’t stand it that she might prefer me to you.”

Robbie had never struck his partner before—though God knew he’d been tempted more than once—but he was a hairsbreadth from doing so. He wanted to sink his fist through that knowing smirk so desperately his arms twitched. Mostly because he knew it was true.

He was jealous. For the first time in his life the ugly emotion was twisting him up inside, and he couldn’t stop it.

He was attracted to her.

Hell, attracted was putting it mildly. All he had to do was look at her and he was picturing her naked and under him again. Picturing her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as he made her cry out—nay, scream—with pleasure. Aye, the fair Rosalin—the perfect English Rose—screaming his name as he made her come again and again was something he just couldn’t get out of his head. But he’d be damned if he’d admit it to Seton.

“Sod off, Dragon. The lass has obviously identified you as an easy mark, and I’m just trying to make sure you don’t do anything foolish.”

“If being sympathetic to her plight makes me an easy mark, then I guess you are right. The lass needs someone to protect her.”

A fresh spike of rage set his teeth on edge. “Nay, she doesn’t. She has me. I will protect her.”

“Then I suggest you start doing so. Have you taken a look at her and the lad? They are so exhausted they can barely stand. You’ve dragged them halfway across Scotland in less than a day and a half with little food—”