The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(79)

Sir Alex’s face went utterly still. He stopped and took her elbow. “What did you say?”

She bit her lip, looking up at him uncertainly. “Robbie is part of Bruce’s phantoms.”

His voice was very low and deliberate. “Did he tell you that?”

She shook her head and shrugged. It made perfect sense. If she were selecting men to form a band of extraordinary warriors, she would certainly include the man reputed to be the strongest. “It wasn’t very difficult to figure out after the night in the forest when he appeared out of the darkness with that ghastly helm and blackened face to save me from the Douglas soldier. I suspect you are one, too.” She looked at him for confirmation, but the stony countenance revealed nothing. “Is the Black Douglas as well?”

Sir Alex stared at her intently. “Have you told anyone else of your suspicions?”

“Of course not!”

“Then promise me you will not voice them again to anyone—even Boyd. Especially Boyd.”

His fingers had tightened and his face had grown so dark she almost didn’t recognize him. She nodded, a little fearfully. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

Rosalin’s eyes widened at that. They continued walking. She was more disturbed by Sir Alex’s comments than she wanted to let on. Not about the phantoms, but about Robbie’s determination to win at all costs. Sir Alex was right—it was hard to reconcile the Devil’s Enforcer with the noble warrior she remembered.

But maybe they weren’t so far apart after all. Though she loved her brother and understood he was doing his duty, she’d come to sympathize with Robbie’s cause—if not his methods. In the quest to win at all costs, he’d lost sight of what he was fighting for. But recently she thought she might have helped him remember.

He might not be the knight in shining armor riding in on a white steed that she’d created in her mind, but she refused to believe he was the empty black shell of vengeance that Sir Alex suggested, either.

Just as they were about to enter the Hall she turned to him. “You are wrong, Sir Alex. I think he is still greatly affected by right and wrong. I think that’s why he fights so hard. He might act ruthlessly and harshly when he has to, but he won’t do anything truly dishonorable.”

Alex held her gaze steadily. Her impassioned defense perhaps had revealed more than she wanted it to. “Don’t give yourself false hopes, my lady.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known Robbie Boyd a long time, and he will let nothing get in the way of winning this war. Nothing. When the time comes, he’ll send you back. He needs Clifford’s cooperation, and this is the only way he’ll get it. Do you think your brother would agree to a truce and to the payment of two thousand pounds if Boyd didn’t have you to hold over his head?”

He wouldn’t, although she hadn’t wanted to think about it. Her brother was just as stubborn and single-minded as Robbie. If it weren’t for her, he would never agree.

If she’d been harboring a secret hope that when the time came Robbie would not be able to send her back, that he would stop seeing her as a weapon to use against Cliff, that he’d want to hold on to her just as strongly as she wanted to hold on to him, she knew she’d been deluding herself.

He would send her back, and then what? Would he forget all about her? Fight for her? Or worse, do nothing?

Rosalin didn’t have long to ponder the question, for no sooner had they sat down to eat than the door slammed open, and Robbie and the men who’d gone to meet her brother stormed into the Hall.

She had to clutch the edge of the wooden trestle table to prevent herself from jumping up from her seat. But the moment of relief she felt upon seeing him safely returned died when their eyes met. His burned with an unholy rage that turned the blood racing in her veins to ice.

Unconsciously, she leaned toward Sir Alex, who was seated beside her. If anything, the movement only served to make Robbie’s eyes burn even darker. He crossed the distance of the room in a few strides.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

Her heart clenched as his eyes bit into hers. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Come with me,” he demanded.

She’d never seen white lines around his mouth like that. Her pulse raced wildly. “I haven’t finished my meal.”

“What’s this about, Boyd?” Sir Alex said, getting up protectively at her side.

It was the wrong thing to do. Robbie looked like he might level his friend with his fist rather than just his gaze. Instead, he reached over the table and plucked Rosalin from her seat. She was so startled, all she could do was gape as he carried her out of the suddenly silent Hall.

Eighteen

She’d turned him into the bloody barbarian some accused him of being, but Robbie didn’t give a shite. He’d controlled his rage for the long journey back to the forest, but the moment he’d seen her there sitting with Seton—looking so damned beautiful it made his chest squeeze—the tethers had broken free.

His jaw clenched and blood roared through his veins as he stormed out of the Hall through the forest to his tent. He was careful not to look down at her. Her soft scent was torture enough. As was the way she wrapped her hands around his neck and seemed to burrow against his chest, tucking her cheek against his shoulder.