The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(90)

Her concern barely registered. “As you can see, there was no cause. Your brother’s men declined to take the field against us.”

“Thank God.” She didn’t bother to hide her relief. “But it wasn’t Cliff’s men, it was my fian—” She stopped, seeing his darkening expression. “It was Sir Henry’s.”

His mouth tightened, his eyes burning hot into hers. “I do not wish to talk about this with you, Rosalin, but suffice it to say your brother was involved—unless there is another baron with a red stripe and blue-and-yellow check arms? I saw one of his men myself when we chased your betrothed back to Peebles.”

Rosalin’s eyes widened a little at his claim, but she pushed away the twinge of uncertainty. She shook her head. “Cliff might have been there, but he wouldn’t have had anything to do with this. He wouldn’t put me in that kind of danger.”

“But your betrothed would?”

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. It felt disloyal to Sir Henry, but she had to make him understand. “Sir Henry is a great knight, but he is young, proud, and I think sometimes overly bold,” which sounded better than rash. “I suspect he acted out of worry for me and did not give thought to the consequences.” He seemed to consider her words, and she pressed on. “I did not break my word to you, Robbie. I wasn’t trying to leave.”

“Then why were you walking away with him?”

“I wasn’t walking away. He was dragging me. Could you not tell the difference?”

His frown told her he was remembering. “If you were being forced, why did you not shout for help?”

“Because I did not wish to see you kill him. I hoped to be able to convince him to let me go as soon as we were a short distance away. I did not count on the horse. The man was my friend. Can you not see the dilemma I faced? Would you have stopped to ask him questions before lifting your sword against him?”

His silence was answer enough.

It wasn’t right that she was forced to defend herself like this, and some of her anger started to break through. “I had just confessed my feelings to you. It might have meant nothing to you, but it meant something to me.”

“You are young, Rosalin. This will all seem very different once you return to England.”

She couldn’t believe he was trying to talk her out of how she felt. “I’m old enough to know my own feelings, and if you need proof I have six years of it. I never forgot you, and we’d met but for a few minutes. How do you imagine I will now? I love you, Robert Boyd, and if I had my wish we would never be apart.”

For one moment she thought her words had penetrated and that he might reach for her. But he held his hands rigid at his sides, clenching and unclenching. “You might get your wish,” he snarled. “For a while at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean your brother broke the truce, and I do not intend to let that go without a response.”

Her calm, rational approach fell by the wayside. She rushed toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “No! You can’t do that! Have you not heard what I said? Cliff didn’t do this, and if you retaliate with a raid or exact some sort of other vengeance against him there will be no chance.”

He looked down at her, the handsome lines of his face drawn taut. He grabbed her by the shoulders, as if to keep her back. “No chance for what?”

Tears blurred her eyes; her throat burned. She barely got the words out. “For us.”

Their faces were only inches apart, his looking down, hers tilted back. He’d shaved, but the shadow of a beard already darkened his jaw. His chest seemed to radiate heat and the faint hint of pine-scented soap. Her desire for him reached up and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing.

She was not the only one affected. Robbie seemed pulled as tight as a bowstring, the steely muscles in his body flexed and taut. “There is no ‘us.’”

She quirked a brow at him. Couldn’t he feel how closely he was holding her? Her br**sts were crushed against his chest and her hips were wedged solidly against his. “Then what is this, Robbie? Tell me why you are so angry if this means nothing. Tell me why your heart is racing as fast as mine. Tell me why you are fighting so hard for control.”

“You know why, damn it.”

“Aye, you want to—how did you so eloquently put it? Fuck me so badly you can’t see straight. As I recall, I offered that to you as well, and you refused.”

His voice fell to a low growl, which she ignored. “Because I was trying to protect you, damn it.”

That dainty brow arched again. “How noble of you. I’m sure my future husband will be very pleased.”

His hands tightened. “Rosalin…”

But she didn’t heed the warning. “I think you were protecting yourself. I think you didn’t make love to me because you know it would be different. You would feel it in here,” she tapped her finger against his chest, “and then it wouldn’t be so easy for you to let me go.”

At last the tightly held control seemed to snap. “Easy? How can you think any of this is easy? I’ve thought of nothing but how difficult it was going to be to watch you go since practically the first moment I took you. You have no idea how much I wish the circumstances were different, but they aren’t, and I live in the real world, Rosalin. Not some damned fantasy where the war is a mere inconvenience or the hatred your brother and I bear each other is overcome by a handshake. And I will not let my feelings for you interfere with what I have to do.”