The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(91)

She couldn’t fool herself any longer. “You don’t want this betrothal.” The truth stung. She stared at him, the burning in her chest excruciating. “Is there ...” She could barely get the words out. He’d spoken of a bride as a reward. “Is there someone else you were hoping to marry?”

He gave her a harsh look. “What are you talking about? I told you there was no one else.”

“Then it’s just me you don’t want.”

His face looked pained. “Anna ...” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t the time.”

Some of her frustration gave way, despite the people around them. “It’s never the time. You are either gone, locked away in meetings, or busy practicing. When, pray tell, is the time?”

Clearly frustrated, he raked his helm-crimped hair back with his hand. It fell in soft waves past his ear, and she almost reached out to tuck it behind his ear before she stopped herself.

“I don’t know, but right now all I want to do is get something to eat, wash the filth from me, and sleep for more than a few hours.”

He had to be exhausted. She felt a prickle of guilt but pushed it aside. She wouldn’t let him keep putting her off. “Then tomorrow. We will talk tomorrow.” She gave him a meaningful look. “In private.”

He actually looked alarmed. She’d not thought him capable, but apparently being alone with her did what dozens of armed men could not. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I can’t. I’m supposed to ride out—”

“When you get back.” He seemed poised to find another excuse, but she cut him off. “I know you are busy with the preparations for war, but do I not warrant a few minutes of your time?”

He held her gaze for a long time. “Aye, lass, you do.”

“Good. Then get some food.” She waved him toward one of the tables. “Your brothers are waiting for you.”

He gave her a short nod and went to join his family. She turned to find her sister Mary standing closer to her than she’d realized. She was watching Anna with a pitying look on her face.

“It’s nothing,” Anna said, embarrassed by what her sister might have heard. “He’s tired, that’s all.”

Mary took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Have care, Annie-love. Some men don’t want to be loved.”

She frowned. “That’s not true, Mary. Everyone wants to be loved.”

A wistful smile turned her sister’s perfect mouth. “You love too much, little sister. But some people don’t want that kind of closeness. Some people are better off alone.”

Anna didn’t want to believe it. But her sister’s words haunted her throughout the next day as she waited for her opportunity to speak with him.

He rode out early in the morning, returned in time for the midday meal, and afterward joined his brothers and the rest of the men for their afternoon training in the yard. With battle drawing near, training had intensified. Taking advantage of the long daylight hours of midsummer, the warriors didn’t finish until past eight o’clock. The evening meal was brief, as were the evening prayers.

She was tempted to follow him when she saw him heading for the loch, but her mother pulled her aside to help her sort out a discrepancy in the household accounts, and by the time she’d finished, he’d already returned and was locked away in a meeting with the high-ranking knights and warriors of her father’s meinie in what had become the nightly war council.

She waited for him in a small mural chamber built into the wall of the stairwell, knowing he would have to walk by on his way to the barracks. It was usually a place she sat to read a book, but hidden from view by a velvet hanging, it was slightly more private than waiting in the Hall crowded with sleeping clansmen. She’d brought a candle to read by, but as the night drew on, her eyes grew tired, and she put it aside.

When the men finally started to emerge from her father’s solar, it must have been close to midnight. Arthur was one of the last to leave, but eventually she saw him coming down the corridor with his brothers. She pushed back the curtain as he drew near and trod down the few steps to wait for him.

His brother said something, and Arthur glanced over and saw her, his expression more resolved than surprised.

He walked toward her as his brothers pushed open the door to the barmkin.

“You shouldn’t have waited up,” he said.

She frowned. “Did you forget that we’d arranged to meet?”

“Nay.” He sighed. “I did not forget.”

More men were starting down the corridor. “Come,” she said, ducking into a small room used to store the lord’s wine. They wouldn’t be disturbed in there.

The rich, fruity aroma hit her as soon as she opened the door, intensifying when she closed it behind them. After placing her candle on one of the barrels, she turned around to face him. The stone storeroom was small, and—she realized with a flush—intimate. Very intimate.

He stood stone still by the doorway, his expression hard and tight in the flickering candlelight. She glanced down to his side, surprised to see his fists clenched.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said tightly.

“Why not?”

He gave her a hard look. “Do you remember what happened last time we were alone in a small room?”