The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(96)

He hadn’t been able to look away. He usually avoided eye contact, but with Anna he’d sought the connection. He wanted the closeness.

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, savoring the silky softness of her hair. She was so sweet and beautiful. And so damned trusting. A fierce swell of protectiveness rose inside him. And something else. Something warm and tender and powerful. Something he’d never thought was meant for him.

He’d thought himself different. That he didn’t need anyone. That he was happy being alone. But he’d been fooling himself. He wasn’t different at all. He needed her. Wanted her. Loved her with a ferocity that surprised him.

Maybe he could find a way to explain. To beg her forgiveness. Maybe there was hope ...

Ah hell. A knot fisted in his gut as he pulled himself back to reality. Who was he fooling? She would never forgive him. How could she, when he was here to destroy all that she held dear?

He loved her, but it didn’t change a damned thing. It would only make what was to come more painful. When he finished what he’d come to do, there would be no chance for them.

He loved her, but his loyalty was to Bruce. He had a mission to complete, not only for the king but for his father.

In a different time—in a place uncomplicated by war and feuds—they might have a chance. But not here. Not today.

Yet he wished ...

God, how he wished it were different.

She peeked up at him from under her lashes. “I’m sure we aren’t the first betrothed couple to anticipate the wedding night.”

The stab of guilt deepened. That was the problem: There would be no wedding night. Not when she discovered the truth. He was an arse. A dishonorable arse. What could he have been thinking?

He knew exactly what he’d been thinking. That he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and that he’d do anything to hold on to her. Consciously or unconsciously, he’d wanted to bind her to him in a way that could not be undone. Not even by deceit and betrayal.

It was desperate. It was selfish. It was wrong. It would only serve to give her more cause to hate him. But it was done, and he could not change it even if he wanted to.

“Nay,” he said. “Not the first, but under the circumstances we should have waited.” He drew her against him, his voice as fierce as his hold. He was a selfish bastard, but he swore when this damned battle was over he’d give her a choice. He would fight for her—for them—if she would let him. “I will come back to you, Anna. If you want me, I will come back.”

She smiled up at him, so guileless and innocent. So trusting. “Of course I want you. Nothing will ever change that.”

He wanted to believe her. More than anything in the world, he wanted to believe her. But her words would soon be put to the test.

Twenty-one

“What’s wrong with you, Anna? You seem unusually quiet this morning. Did you not sleep well?”

Anna gave her sister a sharp glance, wondering if Mary suspected something. It was hard to tell. Her sister wore a serene expression on her face, one befitting the morning’s sermon that they’d just heard.

Anna had no idea what it had been about. She’d been too busy playing back every second of what had happened last night. She was sure there was something horribly sinful about thinking of such things in a chapel, but Anna had so much to do penance for already, she figured the added damage to her soul was incremental.

She smiled as the memories returned. No doubt it was even more of a sin to be so happy about sinning, but she was happy. She loved Arthur, and he loved her. Last night had proved it.

She hadn’t returned to the chamber she shared with her sisters until very late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. She’d stayed curled up in his arms for as long as she’d dared, but eventually she’d been forced to return to her room.

The hours she’d spent in his arms had been some of the most contented of her life. In the protective bower of his embrace, the war, the chaos and the uncertainty of the world right now, didn’t exist.

In the cold light of day, however, it all came back.

Today was the twelfth day of August. Three days before the truce ended.

It was the war that was troubling her, she told herself. If Arthur had seemed unusually pensive or if his words had held the edge of warning, she told herself it must be the war. With what was to come in the next few days, the loss of her virginity before the wedding should be the least of her worries.

But why had he talked about not coming back?

She had to stop this. “There’s nothing wrong,” Anna said firmly. “I slept well.” Like the dead actually, for the four hours or so of sleep that she’d gotten.

“It must have been quite a book.”

This time there was no mistaking the dry tone in Mary’s voice.

“It was,” Anna assured her, unable to hide her blush. Though she often read late in one of the mural chambers to avoid disturbing her sisters, Mary obviously had guessed the truth.

They were following a little behind the rest of her family as they crossed the courtyard from the chapel to the Great Hall, where they would break their fast. Most of the men, however, were already out in the yard practicing. The clang of swords and cacophony of voices grew louder as they drew near. Reflexively, she scanned the mail-clad forms looking for ...

There. Her heart lurched just to see him. Arthur stood on the other side of the stables with his back toward her. It was near the place where they had the straw buttes set up, so she figured he must be practicing with his spear.