Page 1 of The Rogue’s Redemption

1

Brockburg Castle, Scotland, 1273

Reid grew bold as the maid deepened their kiss. When his hand moved upward from her waist, her soft groan was all the encouragement he needed. Certain they could not be seen, hidden in a small alcove at the foot of a rarely used staircase, he explored the curves that had taunted him since she’d arrived the week before. A new lady’s maid at Brockburg, and just what he needed to forget about the selection.

“What is your name?” he thought to ask, breaking contact and watching as his hand reached its goal.

“Anne,” said the pretty blonde.

He could think of nothing else to say that mattered, so he resumed the kiss. Dipping his fingers below the neckline of her very inconvenient gown, Reid finally managed to—

“Brother.”

The unwelcome voice sounded annoyed. The maid pulled away.

Rather than turn toward the sound, he murmured, “Not now,” and tried to resume what had been so rudely interrupted.

The maid, Anne, pushed his hand away and stood ramrod straight. Their interlude was apparently at an end now that the chief had arrived.

Reid turned and watched as Anne nodded a quick bow and ran. Though it was difficult to fully see her backside from this vantage point—

“Christ, Reid. She’s gone.”

He sighed, not caring if Toren noticed. “I’ll assume this is important?”

Toren didn’t answer. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Reid, eyes the same brown-green as his own.

There was judgment there. As usual.

Though he and his brother disagreed at times, they rarely fought as they had this morning. Apparently his brother was still displeased with him. Maybe even more so.

“There’s been another raid.”

That got his attention.

“When?” he asked as Toren turned and made his way up the stone staircase that led to the great hall. “Where?”

The maid completely forgotten, he followed Toren through the hall’s entrance and then toward the front doors of the keep.

“No more than an hour past. On a farm near the southern border. English reivers. They took naught but cattle.”

Raids, though common in the borderlands, rarely occurred on Kerr land. The Kerrs’ reputation for being fierce warriors had spread widely enough to grant them a modicum of peace.

As they approached the stables, Reid caught the attention of a groom who had just exited the stone building to indicate they were ready.

“Where are the other men?” he asked.

When a Hot Trod commenced, it typically included at least five or six clansmen. To ride out with less was a risk not worth taking.

“Already waiting beyond the gates,” Toren said. “It took some time to find you.”

He would not apologize, and Toren wouldn’t expect him to. Instead, they stood in silence until the groom returned with their horses.

The brothers mounted and rode through the courtyard toward the gatehouse. Brockburg had just one defensive wall, but its compact design and high vantage which afforded views well beyond its gates, secured it well.

As they met up with the others, Toren looked straight at him. “We pursue but do not kill.”

He nodded his acceptance, and they began to ride out.