The Raider (A Highland Guard Novel) Read online

  Sir Alex recovered first and stepped forward. “I am sorry you had to see this, my lady. Sorry for all of this. You never should have been here in the first place. If you wish to return to England now, I will take you.”

  Rosalin’s breath caught in surprise. She looked at Robbie, expecting him to argue, but his mouth was clamped shut. He didn’t seem to want to meet her gaze. What did it mean? What had happened here? Why wasn’t he trying to reassure her? And why was he looking so guilty?

  He cared about her—loved her—this couldn’t be about revenge on her brother. He hadn’t meant it. A couple of hours ago he was teasing her and they were making love in the sunshine.

  She turned to Alex and shook her head. “Thank you, Sir Alex, but that is not necessary. I do not wish to return to England.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robbie relax. The relief on his face told her she’d been right: he did care. The question was how much. A question that could not be answered with Sir Alex standing in watch. “Would you give us a few moments, please?” she asked him. “I think there are some things Robbie and I need to discuss.”

  Sir Alex looked as if he wanted to disagree, but after a long glance at Robbie, he headed off toward the river, presumably to clean himself up.

  As soon as he was gone, Rosalin couldn’t wait any longer. She crossed the distance to Robbie in a few steps and put her hand on his battered face. “Are you all right?”

  He pulled away—jerked away, actually. “I’m fine, Rosalin. I’m not a child—I don’t need comforting.”

  She flinched. Were his words not enough, now he needed to rebuff her concern?

  He swore and dragged his fingers—the uninjured ones on his right hand—through his hair. “Damn it. I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s mine. I’m not sure how much of that you saw or heard. We fought. I lost and said some things I didn’t mean.”

  What hadn’t he meant, that he was going to marry her, or the reason? Suddenly her mouth dropped open, realizing what else he’d said. “You lost?”

  She wished the words back when his face darkened. To say that it had to be a blow to his pride was an understatement, and the damage to his pride was obviously as raw and battered as his body.

  His shoulders tensed. “Aye. He said some things to make me angry, I lost control, and he took advantage of my mistake, but that is no excuse. He beat me. Damn it, he beat me.”

  “Surely you’ve lost before?”

  “In that kind of contest? Not in a long time.”

  Rosalin was quiet for a moment, watching the emotions war on his face. “What is really bothering you, the fact that you were beaten or that Sir Alex was the one to do it?” He gave her a hard look that told her the question had struck a nerve. “Somehow I don’t think if it had been the Black Douglas you would be so angry.”

  His jaw hardened until the muscle in his jaw ticced, which she took to be agreement.

  She took a step closer to him and put a hand on his arm, relieved when this time he did not shake her off. “I heard what he said about not being your partner anymore.”

  Belatedly, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to know about his part in Bruce’s phantoms, but he didn’t appear to notice. “It’s for the best.”

  “I feel to blame. I know Sir Alex was trying to defend my honor, but I never meant to get between you.”

  “You didn’t. This has nothing to do with you—not really. The problems with Seton and me have been building for a long time.”

  “But he’s your friend. I know how difficult—”

  “He isn’t my friend.” He looked at her as if she were mad. “He’s bloody Eng—”

  He stopped so suddenly, the silence that followed seemed as loud as a clap of thunder.

  “English,” she finished softly.

  He swore and tilted her chin to meet his gaze again. “That’s not what I meant, Rosalin. I’m just angry. I say a lot of things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

  “Like about marrying me to take revenge on my brother?”

  He grimaced, which due to the injuries on his face must have caused him some pain. “Aye, like that. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Which part? Marrying me or doing so out of revenge?”

  Everything seemed to still: the cool breeze in the night air, the flicker from the torchlight shadowing his face, the sound of their breathing, even the drum of her heartbeat. Her eyes scanned his stony expression, looking for some kind of crack, some kind of softening. She was doing exactly what she hoped she would not have to do—push—but with Cliff about to fulfill his side of the truce, time was running out.

  He cupped her face with his good hand—the one bloodied only at the knuckles—and stared down into her eyes. His expression did soften then, and she felt hope swell in her chest. “God knows, I have no right, and it would be a foolish thing to do for many reasons, but aye, if it were possible, I would marry you. The idea of sending you away…” His voice grew so tight, it cracked. “It’s killing me. I would love nothing more than to tell your brother to go to the devil, but too much is resting on this damned truce. We’re close, Rosalin. I can feel it. I can’t do anything to jeopardize that. It’s too important.” He paused. “I can’t let their deaths be for nothing; I can’t let them down.”

  Of course he couldn’t. She understood, probably more than he realized. But it was what else he’d said that caused happiness to swell inside her like a big ball of sunshine. A broad smile curved her lips. “Do you mean it?”

  Wariness flickered back into his gaze. “Wait, sweetheart—don’t get carried away. Did you hear what I said? Only if it were possible.”

  “I heard what you said.” He wanted to marry her. He did love her. Needing to be in his arms, she buried her head against his leather-clad chest and waited for his arms to wrap around her. They did. Even dirty and with the stench of battle upon him, she savored the warmth and masculine strength. But realizing he was probably confused, she pulled back. “It is possible, don’t you see? I will write to my brother.”

  For the second time in less than five minutes he looked at her as if she were crazed. “Just like that, and you think he will welcome me into the family?” He laughed without any humor. “It would be a cold day in hell before Clifford sanctioned the marriage of his sister to a ‘rebel’ Scot.”

  She shook her head. “You are wrong. My brother loves me and will do anything to see to my happiness.”

  “But he despises me. He will never agree to a marriage between us. I can think of only one person in Christendom who he would be less likely to betroth to his beloved sister—and Douglas is already married. You don’t understand, Rosalin—you have not been a part of this.”

  “It is you who do not understand. I do not deny the truth of what you have said. He will be angry at first, refuse, and probably try everything he can think of to talk me out of it. But once he understands that I love you, and that you lo—um, care about me, he will agree.”

  If he noticed her slip of the tongue, he didn’t show it. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know one thing: the love he has for me is stronger than the hate he bears you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  Her heart pinched. She stared up at him, and for a moment she felt a flicker of doubt. Love was stronger than hate. If he loved her, he would know that—wouldn’t he? She gazed up at him and said solemnly, “But I am sure of it. Let me write Cliff, and you’ll see.”

  He studied her face, and she could sense him relenting.

  “What harm is there?” she pressed. “The worst he can say is no. He won’t do anything while you have me.”

  He didn’t look so convinced.

  The pad of his thumb ran back and forth over her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  She brightened, sensing victory. “I won’t be. I may have to go to him when the truce is settled and persuade him, but eventually he will agree.”

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