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“Aye,” she said.

“Your sister would leave her husband and return to England in the midst of all this trouble to get you away from me?”

Allie wished there was another way to explain Gillian’s plan, but there was not. “Of sorts.”

He frowned.

“It is not just Gillian.” Defending her sister, she said, “Even Juliette remarked on how different you are with me. And though I’m grateful for it . . .”

“What are you saying?”

“You should try to understand. You’ve admitted yourself that you can be . . .”

“An arse?”

Or worse. “Aye, just so.”

Reid squeezed her hand, but he didn’t object. He knew it was true as well as she did.

“Juliette tells me you are leaving on the morrow?” She’d hoped Juliette was mistaken, but she could see from his expression she was not.

“I wish it were not so—”

“But what of the information from my father? If Caxton is behind the attacks, is deliberately attempting to goad the clans . . .”

“I believe your father and am not surprised by his information. Something has felt . . . off. I could not explain it. But our clansmen are becoming too impatient. If we do nothing, again, Toren and I fear a rebellion.”

“Against his leadership? Would they really act against their chief?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. But whether by words or deed, the men of Clan Kerr have friends, allies, in other clans. While they do not control Toren, the time for inaction has passed. A rebellion could come from other clans, Scottish reivers . . .”

So he really was leaving. Worse, he’d be in danger.

“Stay,” he said. “Remain until I return. And then I will escort you to Highgate. But you will be my wife,” he said. “And I do not wish for you to go back to England without me by your side.”

She did not wish it either. “Aye,” she agreed. “I will not let you leave again.”

When he leaned forward, Allie was not worried that he may lose control. She worried more that she would. As his lips touched hers tenderly, her pulse raced. She understood desire. And love. And never wanted to be without it again.

* * *

Allie woke abruptly, unsure of where she was for a moment. Then she looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and her memories fell back into place. Brockburg Castle. Reid. She laid her head back down and closed her eyes, not wanting to wake fully just yet.

He was likely gone by now. Reid had said they were to leave with the sunrise, and though there were only arrow slits in the bedchamber’s outer walls, sunlight streamed through them. She raised her fingers to her lips, remembering the firm kiss Reid had given her last eve, followed by softer, more tender ones later. They’d talked well into the night, sharing stories of their childhood and the woes of being raised along the border. English, Scottish . . . it hardly mattered. Both sides of the border were dangerous, but at least Reid had been allowed to defend himself and not rely on others to keep him safe.

Of sorts.

If she’d learned anything from their discussion, it was that his relationship with his brothers was as complicated as hers with Gillian at the moment. If not more so. While he clearly loved all of his siblings, he also harbored a bit of resentment toward both of his brothers. Watching them leave with his father to fight battles he’d thought he should be a part of . . .

A rapping at the door was followed by a small voice. “My lady?”

“Come in,” she called.

A girl, no older than ten and five, entered with a bowl of water and a rag. She placed both items on the table adjacent to the bed and pulled out dried herbs from a pouch hanging from her brown leather belt. She crushed them into the water, and the sweet smell of rosewood followed.

“Good morn, my lady,” the girl said, watching as Allie rose from the bed. Since she shared a maid with her sister back at Highgate, she had traveled to Brockburg without escort. Besides, Morgan was more loyal to Gillian—she would have been stopped at the castle gates had she told Morgan her plans.

“I am Elise.” The pretty but demure girl bobbed a curtsy. “My lady asked that I serve you while you are here?”


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