The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(119)

He wanted to say so much more, but the rest would have to wait. Reinforcements would be arriving at any minute. “Which is your room?” he asked.

She blushed, looking embarrassed. “The top chamber overlooking the loch.”

He should have guessed. “That was my room.”

Her eyes widened, and she said hurriedly, “I’ll move—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “Stay, I shall know where to find you.” He liked thinking of her in his room.

He glanced over her shoulder, seeing the ships drawing near. “Go. There are some things that I must attend to. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

She reached up to cup his face. “Your poor face.”

He winced. “I know it looks horrible.”

Guilt filled her eyes. “God, Arthur, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “None of that, lass. It’s over. We can’t change what happened in the past; all we can do is live for today and plan for the future.”

A future that only a moment ago looked grim now blossomed with hope.

He watched her go, knowing how damned close he’d been to losing her. But now that he had her, Arthur swore that he would never let her go.

Arthur didn’t keep her waiting long. Anna heard the soft knock on the door barely half an hour after the ships departed.

Bruce’s men had not stayed long. Still, it was strange, watching from the tower window as the courtyard filled with enemy soldiers.

Nay, not enemy. In choosing Arthur she’d also chosen Bruce, though it would take some time, she expected, to come to terms with exactly what that would mean. For now, she was just trying to get used to the idea that she didn’t know when—or if—she might see her family again.

In refusing to submit to Bruce, her father would have no choice but to follow the path that John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, had taken months earlier to England. She suspected her mother, brothers, and sister would soon follow.

But no matter how difficult her decision, Anna knew she’d made the right one.

The blind love she’d had for her father was that of a child—a child who thought he could do no wrong. But her love for Arthur was that of a woman. A woman who understood that people—even those you loved—made mistakes. Forgiveness was part of loving.

She opened the door and her heart slammed against her chest just seeing him there. His large frame filled the doorway, and he had to duck as he entered the room.

The small chamber suddenly felt very small—and very warm. The fresh scent of soap filled the air. He’d bathed and changed from his armor and was wearing a clean shirt, tunic, and hose. Borrowed, she suspected, from one of her departed clansmen.

It wasn’t the visceral awareness, however, but the boyishly uncertain look on his face that made her throw herself into his arms and bury her face against his broad, warm chest.

She felt the deep sigh of relief go through him, as he wrapped his arms around and held her.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

She nodded, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. “You were worried?”

A lock of damp hair flopped across his forehead. “Aye, more than I wanted to be.”

“I made my decision, Arthur. I meant what I said. It might not always be easy, but I’ll not regret it.”

Her brother Alan was right. She deserved a man who would love her as fiercely as she loved him. Who would stand down dragons and crawl through the fires of hell for her. Arthur had done that, and she would never let him go.

She paused, easing back in his arms a little. “Thank you for what you did. I know”—her voice caught—”I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

His face clouded, but only for a moment. “I’ll not regret it.” He repeated her words back to her with a wry smile. “Sparing your father’s life was a small price to pay for the happiness I’ve received in return.”

She bit her lip. “But what about Bruce? Won’t he be angry that you let him go?”

He grimaced. “Probably, if your former uncle’s reaction was any indication. But the king owes me a few favors; I think I may have just called them in. As long as your father leaves Scotland, he will likely understand.”

Likely. Suddenly, she realized she could feel only one hand on her back. She moved out of his embrace and looked down to see that his left hand was wrapped in heavy bandages. She hadn’t noticed before because he’d been wearing gauntlets.

“What happened to your hand?”

“It’s broken,” he said, matter-of-factly.

Their eyes met and he answered her unspoken question. One look at his beaten face was all it took to tell her how it happened. Her heart stabbed. “What else?”

He shrugged. “A few ribs. Some bruises and cuts. Nothing that won’t heal.” There was something in his eyes that told her differently. “It was no more than I deserved for what I did to you.”

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “Don’t say that. What you did was awful, but I would never have exacted such punishment.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “We have not had a very easy time of it, have we?”

He cupped her chin, shaking his head. “Nay, love, but I promise that will change. No more lies. No more secrets.” He smiled crookedly. “You know the most dangerous of them, anyway.”