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  She tilted her head, tiny lines appearing between her brows. “Other rewards? What kind of other rewards?”

  He didn’t say anything, but all of a sudden the answer seemed to come to her. She gasped, the stricken expression on her face giving away too much. “A bride? You’ve been promised a bride?”

  He gave a short nod of acknowledgment.

  “Who?”

  One of the greatest heiresses in the Western Highlands—Lachlan MacRuairi’s half sister, the Lady Christina of the Isles. “I don’t know,” he lied. “Someone suitable will be found after the war is over.”

  Not for the first time, he wished she would hide her emotions better. The pained look on her face made him want to do something rash, like take her in his arms and make promises that he could never keep.

  “I see,” she said in a small voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He gave her a long look. “Like you told me?”

  She flinched. Apparently she’d forgotten where they were going. But he hadn’t. With every mile that brought them closer to Auldearn and Ross, Arthur felt the restlessness teeming inside him building and building. He knew he had to do something to prevent this alliance—for his mission, he told himself—but what?

  Perhaps he wouldn’t need to do anything at all. Perhaps Ross would refuse the renewed talks of a betrothal.

  But one look at her sweet face and Arthur knew he was dreaming. Sir Hugh would snatch her up in an instant.

  His jaw hardened, and he held out his hand. “Come, we should return. It’s getting late, and we have a long day tomorrow.”

  She slipped her hand in his and warmth spread through him. He felt … content. As if there was nothing more natural than her small hand in his. Every instinct clamored to hold on and not let go.

  Instead, he let her fingers slide from his. They walked back to camp in silence.

  They’d said enough already. Perhaps they’d said too much.

  Fourteen

  “Is something wrong with your meal?”

  The sound of Sir Hugh’s voice startled Anna out of her reverie. How long had she been staring absently into her trencher, flaking tiny chips of crust off her bread without saying anything?

  An embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks as she tried to cover her gaffe with a smile. “Nay, it’s delicious.” To prove it, she popped a bit of beef in her mouth, feigning enjoyment she did not feel. When she finished chewing, she apologized. “I fear I am still tired from our journey, and poor company this evening.”

  They’d arrived at Auldearn two nights ago. The final day of their journey had been exhausting, but—thankfully—uneventful. If she’d secretly hoped for another chance to speak with Sir Arthur alone before they arrived, she was to be disappointed. He hadn’t avoided her, but neither had he sought her out.

  Something had changed that night at the loch; at least it had for her. He’d let her see a part of him that she sensed he didn’t often reveal. A part of him that might need her. And most importantly, he hadn’t pushed her away.

  Oh, why hadn’t he pushed her away? It would have made it so much easier. Misery rose inside her; she fought the hot swell to her eyes and throat.

  That was all she needed to do, start crying in the middle of the meal like an unstable, lovesick maid. That would be sure to impress Sir Hugh.

  Though young, only a year past her two and twenty, Sir Hugh Ross was big, imposing, and rakishly handsome, from the bridge of his finely shaped patrician nose to the tip of his short, pointed beard. But the proud knight seemed far older than his years. Self-possessed and confident, with the arrogance of a prince—which, given his rank among Scotland’s noblemen, wasn’t that far off—he seemed almost too controlled. Stiff. Humorless. With that cold, ruthless look particular to men of his station.

  He gave her an understanding smile, but it did little to soften his hard-edged countenance. “Of course, it is to be expected after such an exhausting pace and nearly coming face-to-face with a party of rebels.” His face darkened. “Bruce should be stripped of his spurs for becoming leader to such a band of cateran pirates.” His steely-eyed gaze shifted to her. “You were very fortunate you were warned in time to get away.” He stroked his beard, watching her. She couldn’t take her eyes from his big, thick-boned hands. Hands that could crush or kill as easily as she snapped a twig. “It was Sir Arthur Campbell, was it not? The rebel Neil Campbell’s youngest brother?”

  Anna nodded, feeling uncomfortably self-conscious. The nervousness she experienced in Sir Hugh’s presence that had initially caused her to refuse the betrothal had only grown worse since they’d arrived. Smiling and responding to his polite attempts at conversation was a struggle.

  He had a way of looking at her as though he could read her thoughts. Had she given something away? She hadn’t looked in Sir Arthur’s direction since they’d arrived. At least she thought she hadn’t. But she was keenly aware that he’d been watching her. Which probably explained some of her jumpiness. Wooing one man under the fierce glare of another wasn’t easy. But it had to be done. Even if she wished it differently.

  And she did wish it differently. The past few days had told her how much. She was scared to put a name on her feelings for Arthur for fear of what she would discover.

  “We were very fortunate,” she said, sensing that Sir Hugh was waiting for her to say something.

  Anna didn’t know what was wrong with her. She’d never had this kind of problem talking to anyone.

  She tried to control the shaking of her hands, but the intensity of his stare made her drop the piece of bread she’d been holding. It fell on the table beside her goblet. She reached for it at the same time he did, and their hands touched. Before she could jerk it away, he covered her fingers with his own.

  Her pulse spiked with something akin to panic. Like a bird caught in a cage, her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.

  “You’re nervous,” he said, releasing her fingers and handing her back her bread.

  Her cheeks burned.

  “You’ve nothing to fear, Lady Anna,” he said, amused. “I’m quite harmless.”

  The expression on her face must have registered her utter disbelief. He took one look at her and chuckled mildly. “Well, maybe not completely harmless.”

  The unexpected show of humor made her smile, and for the first time, Anna felt herself begin to relax. She gave him a sidelong glance from under her lashes. “You are rather … imposing, my lord.”

  He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment even though I don’t think you meant it as one.” He leaned closer to whisper. “How about if I endeavor to be imposing to everyone but you? With you I will be quite harmless. It will be our secret.”

  She dimpled, unable to resist his charm. Sir Hugh Ross charming? She wouldn’t have believed it. Was there more to the humorless nobleman than she’d realized?

  “I believe I should like that, my lord.” She felt a smidgen of her boldness return. “Perhaps it would help if you smiled more.” She glanced up at him then. Yes, when he smiled he didn’t seem quite so intimidating.

  He grinned, his gaze seeking hers out. “I shall do that.” He paused. She watched his fingers trace the carved stem of his goblet in a soft, lazy way that was almost sensual. Some of her discomfort returned.

  “I’m very happy that you decided to journey north, Lady Anna.”

  Her blush intensified; she hadn’t missed his meaning. He was amenable to the renewed talk of a betrothal. She knew she should be relieved. It was what she’d come for. It might help save her family.

  Then why did it feel like something hard had just lodged in her chest?

  She nodded shyly, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, fearing that he would see too much. Her chest squeezed, feeling the noose of her future pulling tighter and tighter.

  Her personal feelings didn’t matter. She should be happy knowing she’d done her part to help her family. That would be reward enough. Wouldn’t it?

  When he turned to motio