The Raider (A Highland Guard Novel) Read online

  With a plan in place for how he could right at least part of it, Robbie waited for his opportunity. Getting her alone wasn’t easy with Elizabeth Douglas seemingly tied to her hip, but the moment Joanna and Elizabeth appeared in the Hall to prepare for the evening meal, he slid up the stairs to Rosalin’s chamber. She rarely ventured into the Hall unless she was certain he would be there.

  She was turned away from the door, looking out the window, when she bade him enter. “Just put the tray on the table,” she said.

  Instead, he slid his arm around her waist and lowered his mouth to whisper in her ear, “Looking for someone?”

  She yelped and spun around. “You startled me!” He grinned, and she put her hands on her hips. “As a matter of fact, I was looking for someone. I heard from Lady Joanna that Sir Thomas was expected in the next few days.”

  He was beginning to understand why Douglas got so prickly every time Joanna mentioned Randolph’s name. He would have to keep her far away from MacGregor. He pulled her up hard against him and said darkly, “That isn’t funny, Rosalin.”

  His warning tone had no effect on her grin and her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I disagree. I find it quite humorous. What is it about Sir Thomas that makes all the rest of you flare up like prickly bears? His handsome face? Those gorgeous blue eyes? The knightly—”

  He stopped her with a kiss. A long, searing kiss that left them both flushed and breathing heavily.

  “God, I missed you,” he groaned, sliding his mouth around to devour her neck.

  He cupped her breasts and started to work the ties of her gown. “Wait,” she said, looking up at him. “Did my brother’s response arrive—is that why you are here?”

  He shook his head, sorry to disappoint her. “Nay. I’m here because I couldn’t stay away any longer.” The feel of her body pressed against him was driving him wild.

  But she pushed him back. “Why did you stay away?”

  He’d hurt her, he’d realized—unintentionally. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

  “Because of Sir Alex?”

  He stiffened. “No.”

  She didn’t believe him. “You have to talk to him.”

  He clamped his jaw closed. “There is nothing to talk about.”

  But she was right. The rift between him and Seton had never been so wide; the tension between them was so thick it seemed about to explode. He knew he probably owed him some kind of apology, but he kept waiting for Seton’s anger to die down like it always did. Except this time it didn’t. What really confused him, though, was why Seton hadn’t told anyone he’d bested him. Robbie would have thought he’d be shouting it from the damned parapets. God knew he had every right to. Robbie had been hard on him over the years. Maybe too hard, he acknowledged grimly.

  “Saints, you are stubborn!”

  She looked so put out he had to smile. “Aye. It’s one of my more endearing qualities.”

  She let out a sharp laugh and shook her head. “Is that right? I’d hate to see the less endearing ones.”

  He pushed her back up against the stone wall, pinning her hands to the sides of her head. “Do you want to keep talking about all my good qualities or should I show you a few?”

  Her eyes flared with heat. “What did you have in mind?”

  He moved his hips against hers, letting her feel exactly what he had in mind. “This, for one.”

  Heat poured through his body and he groaned. It had been too long. She made the sweetest little gasp, and he was about to lean in and kiss her neck again when he heard a sound that made him glance out the window to his right.

  He frowned.

  “What is it?”

  “Seton and Douglas. Damn it, I thought we’d have more time. They should have been gone for a couple more hours.”

  He peered harder into the distance as they neared, and tensed. They were riding too fast. Something was wrong.

  He turned back to her, the disappointment probably as keen on his face as it was on hers. Leaning down one more time, he gave her a swift kiss. “We’ll have to resume this later.”

  She nodded. He was almost to the door when she said, “Wait! Do you think it could be something from my brother?”

  He stopped, turning to look at her. “Perhaps.”

  A few minutes later, when he met an arguing Seton and Douglas as they rode into the courtyard, he learned that it was a response from Clifford—just not the one he’d imagined.

  Robbie clenched his fists, squeezing through the pain of his broken fingers in pure animalistic rage.

  By God, Clifford would pay for this!

  Robbie had heard the kind of story related by the lad so many damned times it should no longer affect him. The ordinary day. The happy, unsuspecting villagers going about their business. The first prickle of alarm when the soldiers are sighted. And the sheer terror and chaos that follows when the first sword starts to fall. But the horror of it always struck him anew. And this time it was worse. So much worse. This time he was to blame.

  The lad was about Malcolm’s age and was fighting to hold back the tears as he described what he’d seen. “They were killing everyone, my lord. Women, children—it didn’t seem to matter. They blamed us for helping you. Said we were all rebels for keeping your camp supplied in the forest. Someone told them about the, uh…your women. The men were pulling them out into the street when my ma put me on the horse and told me to ride and try to find the Douglas. I didn’t want to look back.”

  “But you did?”

  The boy nodded and looked away. He’d already told them what he’d seen, and the images were still burning vividly in Robbie’s mind. Deirdre and the other women from camp being…

  His stomach turned as bile rose to the back of his throat. Raped and probably killed because of him. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so stupid?

  “That’s when I saw the other soldiers riding toward me and I thought I would never get away. There were hundreds of them, swarming all over. I’ve never seen so many weapons.”

  “Clifford’s men,” Douglas provided, even though Robbie had heard it before. The boy’s description of their arms had left no mistake. As had the description of Sir Henry’s and his men. Apparently, Rosalin’s betrothed hadn’t been sent back to England after all.

  But he was going to wish he had been.

  “This happened yesterday?” Robbie asked the boy.

  He nodded.

  Probably right after receiving Rosalin’s letter. She’d been right. Clifford’s first reaction had been anger. And look what it had cost them.

  The lad had obviously reached the end of his tether. He’d been through hell and looked it. But he’d told them everything they needed to know. Robbie thanked the boy and sent him away to get some food and rest.

  “I got here as soon as I could, my lord,” the boy said. “Do you think…”

  Robbie wanted to lie, but the boy deserved the truth. He’d left his mother and younger siblings behind to ride for help. Robbie shook his head. There was no chance to save them. The villagers were dead and Corehead was no doubt burned to the ground.

  The tears were falling unheeded now. “But you’ll do something, won’t you?” the boy asked.

  “Aye, lad, I will.” He would strike back and strike back hard in a place that would hurt.

  He exchanged looks with Douglas, and the other man nodded. They’d been through this so many times before, he knew exactly what to do. Douglas left the Hall to start readying the men. Robbie was about to follow when Seton stopped him. It was the first time the other man had spoken to him directly since their fight.

  “What are you going to do?”

  How his partner—former partner—managed to convey disapproval in a flat tone, Robbie didn’t know. But he did. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do? You heard what they did.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Clifford do something like this?”

  Robbie’s jaw locked. Because Robbie