The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(100)

A few of the men patrolling the barmkin wall were staring at her, but she was too upset to care.

Upset? Nay, poleaxed. Crushed. Horrified. Her head still spinning with disbelief.

She was trying to decide what to do. Whether to march across the yard, knock on the barrack door and demand to see him—to Hades with propriety—when the door to the barracks opened and a group of soldiers came out, dressed in full armor.

Her heart lurched, realizing one of them was Arthur.

They were heading toward the stables.

He was leaving. Leaving.

Her fingers squeezed the railing until splinters bit into her hands. She stared at him, her chest burning with pain, a small part of her still not wanting to believe it.

As if sensing the heat of her gaze, he glanced up and jarred to a halt midstride. Their eyes met across the torchlit darkness.

He said something to one of the other men, then broke off from the group to walk toward her.

Drawing a deep, uneven breath, Anna started down the stairs, meeting him at the bottom.

Her breath caught when she saw his face.

It can’t be true. How could he look at her with such concern and be planning to betray her?

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I was worried when I didn’t see you earlier.”

He reached for her, but she twisted away. She couldn’t let him touch her. It would only confuse her further.

“I need to speak with you.”

The stiffness in her voice alerted him. His gaze slid to the stables where the men had disappeared. “I don’t have much time. They’re waiting for me.”

“You’re leaving ... without saying goodbye?”

The small tic below his jaw gave him away. It spoke of guilt.

“It’s a night patrol only. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Are you sure? Didn’t you warn me that you might not come back?”

His eyes scanned her face, and he seemed to realize something was truly wrong. Aware of the men patrolling around them, he took her arm and drew her toward the garden tucked around the far side of the tower, where they could not be overheard.

Turning her around to look at him, he gave her a stern look. “What’s this about, Anna?”

She lifted her chin, hating that he made her feel like a recalcitrant child. “I know.”

“What do you know?”

A sob rose in her chest but she tamped it down. Her words came out in a rush. “I know the truth. I know why you’re here. I know you were the one who saved me in Ayr. I know you’re working for them.” She practically spat the last, unable to say it. He was working for her family’s mortal enemy.

His face was still—too still, his features schooled in perfect impassiveness.

Her heart sank. Tumbled. And crashed to the floor. The lack of reaction was more damning than a denial.

“You are overwrought,” he said calmly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Don’t you dare!” Her voice shook, the emotion burning in her chest erupting in anger. “Don’t you dare lie to me! I saw you catch the spear this morning and break it over your knee. I’ve seen something like that only once before. Surely you remember coming to my rescue that night? A rebel spy pretending to be a knight? You took an arrow in your shoulder for it.” She wanted to rip off his mail and force him to deny it. “It’s the exact same place you have a scar.”

She paused for a denial, half-hoping for an explanation, but silence filled the dead air between them.

“I saw the map, Arthur. The map you let me believe was a drawing. It was taken off an enemy messenger.” She eyed him challengingly. “Perhaps I should call my father and let him decide.”

His mouth thinned in a white line. He grabbed her elbow and brought her closer to him. “Lower your voice,” he warned. “Just an accusation like that could get me killed.”

She sobered, her anger dissolving a little, knowing he spoke the truth.

He steered her toward a stone bench and set her down. “Don’t move.”

She bristled at the order. “Where are you going?”

He gave her a hard look. “To tell them I will be delayed.”

Twenty-two

Think! Damn it, think!

Arthur took his time in the stable informing the men of his delay, while trying to calm the fierce rush of blood pounding through his veins. But every primitive instinct of self-preservation had kicked in, in response to the danger.

The worst had happened. He’d been discovered. Anna had figured out the truth.

He cursed his damned fool of a brother for tossing that spear—which had very nearly succeeded in skewering his head—and himself for being so careless with the map.

His mission had just gone to shite, and unless he could think of a way to explain, there was every chance he wouldn’t live to see another sunrise. He couldn’t think about what his failure might mean to Bruce. If he didn’t warn them, they would be marching into a trap. A MacDougall victory could turn the tides of war once more.

Though Arthur didn’t sense anything, his hands were on his weapons as he exited the stables, half-expecting Lorn’s soldiers to be waiting for him. But Anna hadn’t gone to her father. Yet. She was waiting for him on the bench where he’d left her.

He breathed marginally easier as he strode back across the courtyard, but still wasn’t sure what he was going to say.