Heart of Shadows (Hearts of the Highlands Book 2), page 14
“At what cost?” she demanded and looked again at her father.
“Leave me, both of you,” he said and waved them away.
Braya rose and left the table, the kitchen, and kept on going out of the house. She didn’t want to be around anyone. War was coming. Her family was most likely going to fight. Torin had called the Scots “a formidable army”. What was best for her family? If they helped Bennett and he conquered the Scots again, things would remain the same. If they didn’t help and he lost, the Scots would sit in Carlisle and everything would change.
Perhaps, in the long run, fighting wasn’t a mistake.
She wished she were with Torin now. She looked toward the stable. She could have her horse ready in minutes. What more was there to do here but worry? Torin didn’t want her to fight. How would she tell him that she might have to? She could fight. It was what she’d been training for, trying to prove her whole life. She was the Hetheringtons’ best fighter. She won all the competitions at all the games and could beat almost any man she came against. If her family went to war with the Scots, she had no choice but to join them.
The more she thought about telling him, the more she wanted to go to him. They would think of something together. She thought more clearly when she was with him. She gave herself a dozen reasons why she needed to go…go saddle Archer and find him, kiss him as she’d kissed him yesterday. The memory of his mouth on hers, the taste of him, the scent of him…she almost laughed out loud hurrying toward the stable.
She couldn’t wait to see him. To—
“Braya!” She turned to find Will Noble hurrying toward her. “’Tis Millie! I think the babe is coming!”
The babe! Oh, none of them thought of the babe and what kind of world they were bringing him or her into. “Mother!” she shouted toward the house. “Mother! ’Tis Millie!” There was no time to worry about her family now. Millie needed her.
Braya stepped out of Millie and Will’s house and leaned against the doorframe. She breathed a deep breath and reveled in the cool, fresh, evening air. Early evening of the next day. Dear God, seventeen hours.
Poor Millie. It had been a difficult birth. Her babe was turned feet-first. Thank God the older women had come to take over. Braya’s mother and her aunts, including Millie’s mother, had known what special maneuvers to use to help little David come into the world.
Braya was glad she had been there to watch and learn, but it also scared the hell out of her and made her realize Millie was more courageous than she. She felt a bit shaken, stunned, and a bit sick to her stomach at what she’d just witnessed. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it but she’d never grown accustomed to it and she never would. It was the most violent, most savage experience of a woman’s life.
With Millie and her babe safe in the hands of the older women, Braya left the house in need of a break and some air.
She closed her eyes against the cool wood and thought of her bed.
A soft touch along her temple pried open her eyes.
“Torin!” She startled seeing him. Was she dreaming? She smiled into his beautiful green eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Your father told me where you were.” His voice played across her ears like a familiar, soothing song.
“My father?” she laughed softly. “He likes you, I think.”
She let him lead her away from Millie’s door and toward her own.
“We spoke at length, your father and I,” he told her as they walked. “He is a wise man.”
“What did you speak about? The war?” Her heart thudded in her ears. She felt more awake. Had she dreamed it all? Were the Scots still coming?
“Aye, the war.”
She felt a bit lightheaded and held on to his arm for support. “And?”
He crooked his arm and placed her hand inside his elbow, then covered it with his. “And he is still undecided.”
She sighed and rested her head on his upper arm while they walked, keeping their pace slow. “Galien wants to fight, of course.”
“Aye, I know. He sat with us.”
She lifted her head off his arm and looked up at him. If she weren’t standing so close that she could feel the heat from his body and count the number of hairs on his handsome face, she would have sworn he was a dream.
“What will we do, Torin? Millie just had a son and he will need his father.”
“We will convince your father not to fight.” His deep voice seeped through her to her bones. “Tomorrow. Tonight, you need to sleep. You have been awake for two days and will say things you will not remember when you wake up.”
He smiled at her. All the hours with Millie and before that fell away along with all worries of war. “I would rather stay awake with you.”
His smile deepened and his gaze on her warmed. “Do not tempt me to be thoughtless and whisk you away from your bed.”
Oh, how she wanted to tempt him. She wanted to tempt him to carry her away to someplace secluded and serene, quiet and coz—she opened her eyes. Had she just fallen asleep?
She suspected she had when Torin swooped down and lifted her off her feet to cradle her in his arms.
She squeaked and then laughed with surprise. The last man to pick her up was a Milburn with malicious intentions. She had rid him of those intentions with a knife to the eye. “You do not have to carry me, my lord.” She didn’t mean it. Her legs had gone out from under her. And she didn’t want him to put her down. He was strong and carried her as if she were but a breath of air. His arms were hard, but warm. They molded to her legs and back and pressed her close to his broad chest and tight belly with the fingers of one hand curled around her hip and the other, just below her breast.
She loved looking at him from this angle, his head a sensual slant over her, ready to plant the perfect kiss on her mouth.
Oh, why did she have to be so weary? She would beg him to take her beyond the trees—
“I will take you to your bed, lass.”
She heard his voice as if he were hundreds of leagues away. No. She wanted to be closer to him!
Did he just call her lass?
Chapter Fifteen
Torin looked down at Braya’s sleeping face and felt his heart and his breath stall.
How was it that he cared so much for her? He’d done everything for peace between Bennett’s men and her family and now, just a few short days after he stood before her family and apologized, he faced fighting them on an even larger battlefield. He’d known it was coming. He’d failed to keep possibly a thousand enemies away from the king’s men…his men. He should have let the reivers and the border guards battle it out over five dead fools. Who gave a damn about them? He surely hadn’t…until he had to meet their mothers and fathers.
Hell.
He reached her front door and knocked. He knew her father was inside. He’d left him not too long ago.
Rowley opened the door. The look of stunned disbelief on his face when he saw his daughter asleep in Torin’s arms was so comical, Torin almost smiled at him.
“Come.” He stepped aside and waved Torin in. “I’ll show you to her bed.”
Torin followed him inside. Galien stood at the entrance to the kitchen watching the spectacle, almost as shocked as their father.
Torin wondered what they were seeing that produced such a reaction. Her vulnerability? She was slight, but not weak or helpless.
He suddenly felt honored that she let herself be vulnerable to him.
Hell. He was in trouble.
He had never felt this way about anyone, not even Florie. Braya had his sword. He would kill for her. What did that mean for the Bruce and his men?
Torin followed her father to the other end of the house and a curtained wall. Her father pushed the curtain aside and Torin looked into the dimly lit, cozy little space where she slept.
He smiled at her humble life. What could he give her if he took her as his wife?
He set her down on her straw bed and lingered over her for an extra moment. He was thinking of her as his wife. What the hell was happening to him?
He had Bothwell Castle in Glasgow, or his smaller keep in Thornhill, both given to him by the Bruce.
“Did you speak to my wife?”
Torin pulled away from Braya and looked at her father. “My wife?”
“What?” the older man asked, confused. “Your wife?”
“No, no. I’m not wed.” Torin knew he sounded like a fool. He felt like one. “Forgive me,” he said with a soft chuckle as he stepped away from her room. “I did not hear what you said.”
“Of course,” her father nodded, eyeing him as if he’d just sprouted a third eye. “I asked if you spoke to my wife.”
Torin knew his face went up in flames. Damn it all! He was a warrior who never lost a battle and he was blushing!
“Eh, no, I did not see or speak to her.”
“I should go see to her. If she did not nap, she will be worse off than Braya.”
Before Torin had a chance to say a word, Rowley Hetherington hurried to the front door, pulled his jack from a hook close by, and disappeared outside.
Alone with Galien Hetherington, Torin eyed the man while he went to the door. He didn’t trust the reiver not to stab him in the back as he left.
“Gray.”
Torin stopped and looked at him, waiting for whatever it was that Braya’s brother wanted to say.
Not that Torin cared really. Galien made no secret that he didn’t like him. Torin felt the same. Galien was rash and led by his emotions. Not a good trait to have in a leader. He would end up getting his entire family killed.
“What are your intentions for my sister?”
“I intend on keeping her alive.”
“She can do that herself,” her brother declared.
Torin was glad to hear Galien admit how skilled his sister was, even though he did not tell her so.
“And she has me and my father.”
“And me,” said Torin with a silent agonized breath. How could she have his sword if he was on the other side? He blinked and set his shimmering gaze on her brother. “But we will all fail against what is coming. ’Tis not your fight.”
“If they win,” Galien argued, but offered more quietly, “there will be a new warden and the reivers will be slaughtered.”
“Only if you fight against them. Reivers have not been slaughtered elsewhere in Scotland, have they? Robert the Bruce does not give a damn about thieves.”
Galien’s dark eyes narrowed on him. “You speak as if you know these things for certain. As if…you know the Bruce. Do you?”
Hell! Torin tried his hardest not to react or instinctively look down the hall to where she slept. Someone usually figured him out. Normally, Torin killed whoever it was and hid the body. But this was Braya’s damned brother.
“I speak from experience. That is all.”
Galien narrowed his eyes on him. “Where did you come from? I have asked others and no one has heard of you.”
Torin wondered, for a fleeting moment, if he could get away with killing Galien and burying him. Or if all his plans were about to fail because of him.
“Have you traveled to Bamburgh then?” Torin challenged, then moved closer, tired of insinuations. “If you have a charge, then make it,” he growled, all nonchalance and detachment abandoned. “You are a prideful fool. Do not talk your father and…possibly your sister into dying. I promise if the Scots do not make you answer for it, I will.”
He raked his scathing stare over Galien once more, letting the promise sink in, and then left the house.
Damn it. He probably should have killed him. What if Galien shared his suspicions with his sister?
He made it back to the castle, practiced for an hour with Adams, and then retired to bed. He had much to think about besides Braya or her brother, like a plan of attack. Once the Scots were outside the walls, he would begin taking down Carlisle’s guards. He might have to kill Adams, but he would do all he could to avoid it. Adams wasn’t a full-blooded English and, besides, Torin liked him. He didn’t like many.
Torin would make certain the Hetheringtons did not fight for Bennett. If he had to kill a few guardsmen before the Scots arrived and blame one of the Hetheringtons, like Galien, for instance, he would. Once Bennett accused Rowley’s son, the leader of the reivers would withdraw his support. Torin would see to it. An extra sennight would give him the time he needed.
Of course, his plan could backfire if too much time passed and Braya’s father was allowed the chance to call for war against Bennett. Torin would be in the same position he had been in days ago with two battles on his hands and only one he wanted to fight and win.
Hell, everything had to be perfect, or as close to perfect as possible. Too much could go terribly wrong. He hadn’t planned on Bennett possibly having another thousand men on his side. King Robert wouldn’t appreciate it either. If the Scots suffered another loss to Carlisle, the blow would be too great. He would have failed, and he could not allow that to happen.
Whether his decision to keep peace between the reivers and Bennett was right or wrong no longer matter. He had to continue moving forward. He had to take down this last stronghold or the guilt and shame of his life would never cease. He had to keep Braya safe, and not just Braya, but her family.
He fell asleep wondering how he had allowed himself to fall so hard for a lass that he would risk so damned much.
He awoke the next morning without an answer and an even bigger problem.
According to Adams, whom Torin found on his way to the great hall, Rowley Hetherington had been summoned to the castle. He was to come alone.
“Why was he sent for?” Torin asked, trying not to sound overly concerned.
“Bennett sent for him late last eve,” Adams informed him, paying no heed to Torin’s forced calm. “Or so I have heard. He is accusing a Hetherington of betraying the guards to the Armstrongs.”
Torin looked down the candlelit hall toward the stairs leading up to Bennett’s solar, and then walked around him and headed that way. Bastard. Why would he make an accusation when he was the one who had done it?
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what he is up to.” Whatever it was, Torin would find out. He wouldn’t let there be any surprises. He couldn’t. He would keep Braya safe against any enemy. His dark, dusty heart depended on it.
When they reached the door to the solar and knocked, Bennett invited them in. Torin was not here to drink or sit. He was here to find out one thing. Still, he wouldn’t do or say too much to make the defender suspect anything about him other than that he was bold and brash.
“Why have you sent for Rowley Hetherington? What has happened?”
Bennett eyed him beneath sullen, suspicious brows.
Torin squared his jaw and tilted his chin. Bennett wouldn’t confront him. He was afraid of Torin, as he should be.
“We will need his men when the Scots come,” Torin said, trying to divert Bennett’s thoughts away from wherever they were heading. “Now is not the time to make him an enemy.”
“We will have his men,” Bennett finally promised with a curl of his thin lips. “He will have no choice but to send for them.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going to tell him that I believe Miss Hetherington betrayed us to the Armstrongs.”
Torin grew silent for a moment as shock settled in. What? This scum could not be serious!
“She hates us,” he continued, ignoring Torin’s pale face. “She stirs strife between us and her father—and worst of all when we need the reivers the most on our side. There is only one way to stop her from trying to cause a war between us.”
No, no, Torin told himself. Bennett was speaking of Galien, not Braya. She sought peace.
He stared at Bennett with rage darkening his expression. “You know perfectly well ’twas not her who betrayed us to the Armstrongs.”
Bennett shrugged his shoulders. “I said I was going to tell him I believed it. In truth, I do not know how they knew we were vulnerable. I must take Miss Hetherington as my wife and secure the promise we have with her family to fight with us when the Scots come to Carlisle.”
Torin would have laughed but there was nothing humorous about this. He would kill Bennett before he ever came close to marrying Braya.
“She will never agree,” Adams muttered. “Will you force a woman to your bed?”
“If ’twould guarantee our safety against the Scots, aye, I would,” Bennett replied.
“Nothing will guarantee your safety against the Scots,” Torin pointed out through clenched teeth. “They are wild and savage and if they are coming here, they are coming to kill you.” If he could, Torin would kill him right now. But he wouldn’t be able to hold the castle alone until the Scots got here. He had to wait. He wished he hadn’t asked the Bruce for another sennight.
“With the reivers help, the Scots lost five years ago,” Bennett said with a chuckle. “I will ensure we have their aid again by marring Braya Hetherington.”
“She will kill you before the Scots ever get here,” Adams pointed out with a sneer.
Bennett laughed, tempting Torin to leap over a small table that separated them and knock out his teeth. “I’m certain Hetherington will agree that this is best. I will continue to keep the Armstrongs and other warring reivers away from his family and I will have his protection against his hated enemy, the Scots. ’Tis a perfect plan.”
Not if Torin killed him first. He balled his hands into fists and forced himself to remain still and try to look non-threatening. “That is good news, my lord. We can use the men. Now, if you will excuse me.” He had to leave the solar before he ruined all his plans and killed Bennett where he stood. Torin was an excellent swordsmen, the best he knew, in fact. But even he could not fight all of Carlisle’s guards alone.
He smiled and walked out without waiting for Bennett to reply. As soon as he was out of the solar, he closed his eyes and ground his jaw. The thought of Bennett forcing Braya to marry him was enough to make Torin risk it all. No, he told himself. She wasn’t his. He had no right to act as if she were. He was going to have to change that. What did he mean to do? He didn’t know, but he was not going to let Bennett near her ever again.
