The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(74)

Wasn’t it?

It should be, damn it. But he’d feared it was going to cost him far more than he’d ever anticipated.

Behind the mask of his helm he could give in to the urge to look at her. He felt it again, sharp and burning. It wasn’t just his conscience eating at him but something else. The twinges of pain in his chest when he looked at her had become almost unbearable. But it hurt even more not to look at her.

She rode ahead of him, beside her brother and serving maid, allowing him only the occasional glimpse of her profile. He didn’t need to see her face to know his silence on what had happened between them was hurting her. Badly.

God, what had he done? And more importantly, what the hell was he going to do about it?

Now that they were away from the castle, he couldn’t avoid it—or her—any longer.

He knew what he should do. He didn’t need to be a knight to know that after coming within inches (literally) of taking her virginity, he should offer for her. No doubt it was what she was expecting—and should be expecting, damn it. If he had any honor, he would. But those inches gave him just enough of an excuse not to.

The battle within him was intensifying. Every instinct urged him to go to her, to give in to the feelings—damn it, the emotions—tossing around inside him, but the other part of him, the rational part, held him back from doing something even more damaging.

Even if at times he wanted to forget it, he was lying to her. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell her the truth. His duty and loyalty belonged to Bruce. Whatever feelings he had for her didn’t change that. They were on opposite sides of a brewing storm. Eventually she would discover his true allegiance and learn that the only reason he was at Dunstaffnage was to spy on and help destroy her family. Offering for her, he knew, would only make his ultimate betrayal that much worse.

It was an impossible situation, and one, he knew, of his own making. He should have stayed away from her. But her smile, her vitality, her sweetness and kindness, had chipped away at his good intentions. When he looked into those big blue eyes, it made him long for something that he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.

He liked being alone, damn it! It was easier and a hell of a lot less complicated.

But she made him yearn for something he couldn’t afford to give in view of what was to come. And hurting her like this—and not being able to do anything to change it—was tearing him apart. He was finding it difficult to focus on anything else.

Though she hadn’t turned to look at him, he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. He’d seen the way her shoulders had stiffened as he’d ridden up behind them.

With Richard and Alex scouting ahead, Arthur had circled behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed. They were nearing the day’s end of their journey, and as they drew closer Urquhart Castle—where Bruce’s men had come upon them before—they had to be especially careful. Again, they would skirt well west of the road to avoid patrols from the “enemy” fortress.

“Here, my lady,” he heard her maid say. “Lady Euphemia had the cook make these especially for you, seeing how much you loved them.”

The older woman tried to ply her with the sugary confection, but Anna shook her head, the wan attempt at a smile tearing another shred in his heart. “Nay, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

The servant huffed, pursed her mouth, and chomped down on the almond treat with little enthusiasm. She had barely finished chewing before she tried again. Drawing what looked to be a small meat pie from her bag, she said, “How about a bit of mutton and barley.” She sniffed dramatically. “It smells delicious, and it’s still warm.”

Anna shook her head again. “You go ahead. I’ll have something when we stop.”

The maid murmured something under her breath. “You must eat something, my lady,” she whispered urgently, shooting Arthur an angry glare.

His jaw clenched, guessing who the maid blamed for her mistress’s lack of appetite.

“I will,” Anna said placatingly. She called out to her brother, who’d ridden slightly ahead. “When will we stop for the night, brother?”

“Soon, I hope.” Alan looked around, and seeing Arthur had returned, he motioned him forward.

Steeling himself, Arthur did as the other man bid, lifting the visor of his helm as he swung around the handful of riders between them.

“Anything suspicious?” Alan said.

He shook his head. “Not so far. When Richard and Alex return we can make sure, but if nothing looks out of the ordinary we can stop at the falls as planned.”

“We aren’t returning to the loch where we made camp last time?”

She was talking to him. Unable to avoid it any longer, he turned his gaze to hers—slowly. He wasn’t prepared for the searing heat that cut through him when their eyes met. He—who had barely moved when an arrow had sunk deep into his shoulder, when a sword blade had sliced open his gut, or the numerous times he hadn’t been fast enough to catch his brother’s dagger—flinched, seeing the sadness and unspoken question in her eyes.

She looked tired and unbearably fragile. Tiny lines were etched around her eyes, and her skin seemed paler than usual.

He gritted his teeth, fighting the desperate urge that rose inside him to give her what she wanted.

Offer for her.

Damn it, he couldn’t. It would only make it worse.