Page 31 of The Scot

Oh God, no. Do not, Roysa. I am not strong enough.

“I am no virgin.”

“And I am no saint. But you do not understand.”

Roysa’s chest rose and fell, the tantalizing sight calling to him like a siren’s song.

“I believe I do. You are not prepared to take a wife.”

He winced. “My duty is to my family. To my clan. The people of Dromsley. And to the order.”

She frowned. “And to England, no? Is that not the battle cry of the order? To save your country from a tyrant’s rule?”

Terric shook his head. “Nay. It is Conrad’s goal. One that’s shared by Lance and Guy, and all the men who signed their names to the document that declared them traitors.”

“But not yours?”

Terric was, if anything, aware of his flaws. And this was certainly the biggest of them all.

“Nay, not mine. My only other duty is to vengeance.”

He silently thanked her for the reminder.

“Which is why this”—he motioned between them—“cannot be.”