The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(80)

He’d managed to get to his feet, but he still appeared unsteady.

“Oh God, Alan. Are you all right?”

Even in the darkness, she could see from the way he was looking at her that it was hard for him to focus. He shook his head as if trying to clear the haze.

“A knock on the pate,” he said. “I’ll be fine.” He cupped her cheek and gave her a fond smile. “No need for tears.”

Anna nodded and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, not even realizing she’d been crying.

She turned, instinctively seeking him out. Arthur stood a few feet away, watching her. She wanted to run to him. To throw herself into his arms, bury her face into his chest, and fall apart. He would take away the horror. But her brother was standing there.

And Arthur’s face was too grim. “You are unhurt?” he asked.

She nodded. Her eyes scanned him, lingering on his jaw and cheek—bruised from where her brother had struck him. “And you?”

He returned the nod.

Alan stiffened beside her. He strode toward Arthur and Anna froze, fearing what he would do. He stopped a few feet in front of him. The two men faced off silently in the darkness.

Finally, her brother said, “It seems I am in your debt—not once, but twice.”

Arthur stilled, and then gave a short shrug.

“I don’t like to see my sister upset,” Alan added.

Anna assumed that was meant to be an apology.

“Neither do I,” Arthur said.

Alan studied him for a moment and then nodded, as if he’d come to some sort of decision. “You fought well,” he said, changing the subject, but not the intensity of his scrutiny.

Apparently, she had not been the only one to notice his improved skills. “The rush of battle,” Arthur explained.

Anna almost mentioned the change of hand, but something stopped her. If her brother had noticed too, he didn’t let on.

Alan was still watching him. “Aye, for some men it is like that.” From his tone, Anna couldn’t tell whether he believed Arthur’s explanation. When Arthur didn’t respond, Alan added, “The rebels are better trained than I expected.”

Anna stepped forward. “Not just any rebels, brother.”

Both men looked at her, but it was Alan who asked the question. “What do you mean?”

“I think one of them—maybe more—was one of Bruce’s phantom guard.” She explained the similar clothing to the man who’d led that attack at the church the year before.

Alan stroked his chin. “It makes sense. I think you might be right.”

“There’s more. I can’t be sure, but I think I recognized him. The man with two swords.”

“What?” Both men reacted. Her brother with excitement and Arthur with ... something else.

“Our uncle—former uncle.”

Alan swore. “MacRuairi?”

She nodded.

Alan’s mouth fell in a grim line. “Father will not be pleased.”

Anna did not know the source of the enmity between her father and his former brother by marriage, but she knew the hatred ran fiercely on both sides.

Alan let out a bark of laughter. “Though perhaps he should be. Let Bruce have that traitorous, opportunistic bastard in his camp. The only thing that Lachlan MacRuairi is loyal to is himself. If he is the kind of man recruited for this band of phantoms, we have nothing to worry about.”

Arthur had fallen strangely silent. She wanted to ask him about what she’d seen between him and the man she thought was her uncle, but like before, something held her back. Instead she asked, “What made them leave?”

Her brother frowned. “I’m not sure. My head was ringing; I didn’t see much of anything.”

“Your men had broken through,” Arthur explained. “They were outnumbered.”

It hadn’t seemed that way to her, but she’d been too focused on her brother to pay attention to the rest of the battle. “You should return to camp,” he said.

“Aye,” Alan said. “One of my men will take you. We must see to—”

He stopped.

She filled in the rest. The dead.

The horror of the attack—of what they’d barely escaped—hit her full force. The dam had given way, and all the emotion kept carefully at bay rose inside her, threatening to flood in a sea of tears.

She turned, realizing that Arthur had come to stand beside her. Heedless of her brother’s presence, he reached down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers swept the side of her cheek, lingering.

The tenderness of the gesture brought tears to her eyes. She gazed up at him. Beneath his grim expression, she read his concern. His solid presence, his strength, nearly shattered her. If he took her in his arms, she would fall apart.

Guessing as much, he didn’t. “It will be all right,” he said gently. “Do as your brother says.”

“But—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, his expression firm. He had to have guessed that she had questions. “Not now,” he said, his gaze shifting to the fallen men at their feet. “Later.”

Anna kept her eyes on his face, careful not to follow the direction of his gaze. She’d seen enough bloodshed tonight to last a lifetime. The memories of this night would haunt her.