The Raider (A Highland Guard Novel) Read online

  He frowned until he realized to what she was referring, and then a broad smile curved his mouth.

  The boyish grin slammed right into her heart. If she ever needed proof of how much he needed her, it was right there. For a moment, she could almost see what he might have been like had war not stolen everything away from him. Happy, relaxed, teasing.

  “You’re jealous,” he said, looking much too pleased with himself.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She tried to toss her nose up in the air but he caught her chin. The amusement was gone from his expression. “You have no reason to be, Rosalin.”

  Admittedly, he’d paid little attention to the steady flock of women who seemed to find any manner of duties to attend to in the yard whenever the infamous Robbie Boyd was training with his men. But it was still difficult for her when the other women were out there, and she was once again watching him from a window. Only at night did he belong to her.

  “I know,” she said. “But can you blame me? They are free to watch you, while I am…” She shrugged. “I feel like I’m at Kildrummy again.”

  She could tell he didn’t like the comparison. “I’m trying to protect you. It is safer for you in here when I cannot be with you.”

  “That’s exactly what Cliff used to say.”

  He definitely didn’t like that comparison.

  But he surprised her with his response. Actually, he shocked her speechless. “Well, he was probably right. You had no business being in Scotland at such a time. What was he thinking to let you come?”

  It must be snowing in hell: Robbie Boyd was in agreement with Lord Robert Clifford. It would be cause for celebration if the subject of that agreement weren’t locking her up in a tower. He was staring at her, apparently waiting for her to answer. She pursed her mouth. “He didn’t exactly agree to let me come visit.”

  He had an extremely discomfiting way of remaining dauntingly expressionless yet still conveying danger. “What do you mean?”

  “My guardian, the earl of Hereford, was ordered to Scotland by the king, and I convinced him to take me along.”

  “Into the middle of a war?” he roared, his expression no longer so expressionless.

  “The war was over at the time, if you’ll recall. Or at least it was thought to be over. Bruce’s men were scattered. Bruce himself had fled Scotland.”

  “Aye, I seem to recall the period,” he said dryly.

  She bit her lip, embarrassed. Of course he did. “The countess and a number of other ladies were going; I saw no reason why I shouldn’t join them. I hadn’t seen Cliff in almost two years, and I missed him desperately. I knew he would keep me safe—and he did. Just like I know you will keep me safe.”

  He held her gaze, and she knew he was thinking of what had happened—or nearly happened—that night at camp with Uilleam. And no doubt about his sister. “Not always.” His voice was oddly thick.

  “No, not always. But no one is safe always. Even locked in a tower,” she added with a wry smile. “And that is not a way to live.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then switched the subject. “How old were you when your parents died?”

  She propped her chin up on his broad chest and stared at him. It seemed like an innocuous question, but she got the feeling it was anything but. “I was four when my father died. My mother followed him to the grave before the year was out.”

  He appeared surprised—and troubled. “I didn’t realize you were so young. There were just you and your brother?”

  She nodded. “There were other babes, but all but one were lost in the womb or infancy. I had a brother who was a year older than me, but he died about a year before my father. Each death took a little of my mother’s heart, and after my father died I think she just lost the will to go on.” She smiled. “I missed her—or maybe the idea of her—for a long time. But in truth, Cliff was more of a mother to me. Mother, father, and brother all rolled up in one. I followed him around everywhere; I don’t know how he tolerated it.”

  “But you were separated?”

  She nodded, her face shadowing at the memory. “They had to drag me crying and screaming out of his arms when I was sent to live with the earl. I didn’t understand why I could not be with Cliff while he went to squire. I was too young to understand about rights of wardship and marriage. But the de Bohuns were kind to me, and Cliff visited or sent for me when he could.”

  Absently, he twisted a lock of hair around his finger. “You were lonely, though.”

  She frowned, slightly taken aback by the observation. But then she shrugged. “Perhaps a little. More after I returned from a visit, especially after he married Maud and had the children. But with Cliff in the north and me in London, it had been some time since I’d seen any of them. I was only allowed to travel because of the wed—”

  She stopped, feeling his muscles tense, and caught her bottom lip with her teeth, cursing the inadvertent reminder.

  “Because of your wedding?” he finished, surprisingly calmly.

  She nodded, and peered into his eyes intently. “I meant what I said, Robbie. I will not marry him. No matter what happens.”

  Their eyes held. It was one of the rare times in the past two days that she’d referred to the uncertainty of their future—or whether they even had one. By unspoken agreement they’d avoided any discussion of what would happen when the Black Douglas and Sir Alex returned. It was as if neither one of them wanted to disturb the fragile peace they’d constructed around them with talk of retaliation, truces, her brother, or the war.

  Did he want a future with her? He’d shown her in countless ways with his tenderness and gentleness that he loved her. But he’d never actually said the words. Nor, she was painfully aware, had he mentioned marriage.

  Whatever his intentions were, Rosalin did not want to push. She knew she needed to give him time. He might not realize yet what he wanted. What she’d tried to do the past couple of days was show him how wonderful it could be, shower him with love, and make him see all that he’d been missing. How there was more to life than war. How he could still do his duty, fight for Scotland’s independence, and carve out some happiness for himself. And how she could be a part of that.

  There was more to him than the brutal war machine bent on vengeance, striking without thought. The reprieve he’d given her had proved the man she remembered still existed. But she was painfully aware that reprieve was only temporary. The men could return at any time.

  Would he send her back or did he love her enough to fight to keep her, even if she was English and Robert Clifford’s sister? Her deepest fear was that he would never be able to reconcile the two. And worse, that maybe he wasn’t keeping her in this tower just to protect her but also because he was ashamed of her. That a relationship with an Englishwoman somehow diminished his reputation as the freedom fighter who despised all things English.

  She tried to ignore the stab of disappointment when he didn’t respond to her vow not to marry Sir Henry. Instead, he started to roll off the bed. “I need to return to my chamber.” After the first night, he’d come to her.

  “Already?” she asked, trying to hide her disappointment with a smile.

  He saw through it anyway. “I’m riding out at dawn. Besides, I do not want to give Lady Joanna any reason to suspect that I am not enjoying the fine bed in her mother-in-law’s chamber.”

  Rosalin suspected it was too late for that. She suspected Lady Joanna knew exactly whose bed he was enjoying.

  She watched him dress in silence, wishing that their worlds did not feel so apart. The one he shared in here with her and the one he shared out there with everyone else that required strapping on armor and swords. Her eyes moved from the bruises on his ribs to the one on his face. “I hope you will not be returning with any more ‘scratches’?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Not today, unless they are wielded by farm implements.”

  She gazed at him questioningly.