The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(88)

When she accidentally blurted out her suspicions, however, Joanna had laughed and patted the round swell of her pregnant stomach, assuring her that although their courtship had been a difficult one, it hadn’t come to that. James wasn’t really so terrifying, she’d insisted. When Rosalin grew to know him better, she’d see that.

Rosalin couldn’t think of what to say that wasn’t rude, so she did not respond.

Like a baby chick, Rosalin was scooted under the caring wing of her hostess, given a bath, fresh clothes, a hot meal, and a warm bedchamber in which to rest. Indeed, were it not for the placement of that room in the highest part of the tower and the guard stationed at the bottom of the stairwell, Rosalin might have been a treasured guest.

Despite her exhaustion, however, she found she could not rest. She had to see Robbie. Leaving a message with Lady Joanna that it was important that she see him as soon as possible, Rosalin watched for his arrival from the window of her tower chamber.

Twenty

It was after midday when Robbie and his men rode into the bailey of Park Castle. After hours of riding with only an empty stomach and sore backside to show for it, he was in a foul mood. The heat of battle was pent up inside him, eager for an outlet.

The English bastards had turned tail and run. With the element of surprise gone, they’d apparently decided not to chance an attack. Like frightened hares, they’d raced back to the garrison at Peebles, with Robbie and his men hard on their heels.

Any thought that Clifford might not have been a part of it was eradicated when the gate opened. Even from a distance, he’d recognized the red stripe and blue-and-yellow checks of one of the soldiers in the bailey.

Furious at being denied the battle promised him, Robbie had debated lying in wait for the English to emerge. But he didn’t have the men or supplies. Once he gathered both, he would exact his retribution on Clifford for breaking the truce he’d only just agreed upon.

Robbie had anticipated a trick, and he’d gotten one. Clifford had brought him to Melrose and tampered with their horses’ feed to follow him back to camp and attempt a rescue of Rosalin. Robbie had to admit it had been a cunning plan, but it was also reckless. If it failed—as it had—Clifford was putting his sister at risk. Unless…

Robbie’s jaw clenched. Unless Clifford thought there was no risk. Unless he was certain Robbie wouldn’t harm her.

Some of his anger turned inward. Was that it? Had Clifford seen too much? Or had the lad, and reported it to his father? Either way, Robbie knew knowledge of his feelings for Rosalin weakened his position.

If being denied his quarry and having possibly given Clifford an advantage weren’t bad enough, Robbie had had to listen to Douglas’s thoughts on the matter for much of the journey.

“Clifford isn’t going to get away with this. I knew nothing good would come of having that lass at camp. You should have let me send her to Douglas right away as I wanted to.”

Robbie tried to rein in his temper. Douglas could be as bad as Seton, though they argued from opposite sides. “And how would that have changed anything? They still would have found our camp when we returned from Melrose.”

His friend gave him a hard look. “Aye, but they wouldn’t have found the lass. God’s blood, Boyd, they almost had her, and we would have let the means of bending Clifford over our knee slip away. Losing the lad was bad enough, but giving the chit freedom to move about the camp unguarded? What the hell did she do to get you to agree to that? Suck your—”

Robbie reached over and grabbed him by the throat, nearly lifting the powerfully built knight off his horse with one hand. The red haze of pure rage swirled before his eyes. “Say it and I’ll break your damned teeth.” The horses had come to a stop. Douglas could have tried to break free, but he seemed too intent on watching Robbie. “You can criticize me all you like—some of which is deserved—but do not disparage the lass. Despite her unfortunate relatives, she is an innocent in all of this—and a lady.”

Realizing the other men had stopped to gape at them, Robbie let his friend go.

“So that’s how it is,” Douglas said, his voice stunned. “Bloody hell, I almost feel sorry for you.”

Robbie gave him a fierce stare. “You don’t know shite.”

“I know you’ve changed. A couple of weeks ago you would have jumped at the opportunity to retaliate against Clifford, not try to think of reasons not to.”

Robbie’s fingers clenched the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What the hell are you suggesting, Douglas? Are you questioning my commitment to the cause?”

“Nay, I’m questioning your commitment to the lass.”

“I want her. But I can control my damned cock.”

“You’re so sure about that? I think this is about more than bedding.”

He wasn’t sure at all, but hell if he would tell Douglas that. “She’s English. I don’t think I’d need to explain that to you. Hell, what if Joanna had been English?”

It took Douglas a long time to respond, and when he did it wasn’t the answer Robbie expected. “It wouldn’t have made a damned bit of difference.”

Given the source that admission was surprising, to say the least. It was akin to heresy, and Robbie didn’t know what the hell to do with it. Realizing this conversation had gone on long enough, he urged his mount forward with a flick of the reins and a clip of his heels.