Page 57 of The Scot

She tried to imagine what courting her with his body might entail, but as always with Terric, it did not leave her with the ability to think straight.

“But it would have been highly improper.”

“More so than stealing me away to the buttery? Or bringing me here unaccompanied?”

“Circumstances have changed.”

Roysa’s heart fell into her stomach. What did that mean, precisely? Was he speaking of the mission Lance had mentioned?

“Which leads to your second question.”

He reached across the table and took the silver coin from her hand, his fingers caressing hers before pulling away.

“I leave immediately for here.” He placed the coin onto the map. “Watershed Bridge. If Ulster intends to march on Dromsley Castle, as we suspect, he and his allies will need to cross it. Without it, they will face a delay. Long enough for your father’s men, perhaps even my own, to arrive. The snow has finally stopped. And though it does not yet melt . . . we cannot wait any longer.”

“Without the bridge? Do you mean . . . ?”

“I will burn it.”

“You?”

“Aye.”

“Surely you have many men who could complete such a task. You are the earl. Your clan’s chief. What does your marshal say of this plan?” she asked, beginning to panic. “What would your brother think of it?”

“Rory knows what Gilbert does not. Once I have made a decision, I will not be swayed.”

“But why put yourself at such risk? If they are closer than we believe, if you’re spotted by their scouts . . .”

Roysa couldn’t continue. Surely he did not mean to do this himself. It was madness.

“I would trust no one, with the exception of Lance, with a task of this importance. But even he did not offer. Lance knows me too well. He knows that I would never have accepted.”

“No, Terric, you cannot.”

Panic welled within her, as if time had ceased to move forward. If he did this, he could be killed. She would lose him before she’d even had the chance to properly have him.

“As for your father?”

Terric moved around the table, sidling up to her with a decidedly wicked glint in his eye.

“I asked him the same question that I asked you.”

Which was what she’d assumed.

“He agreed. Reluctantly.”

He stood so close Roysa could lean forward and kiss him easily. She forced herself not to. There was still much she needed to know.

“So why are we here? Surely you must be leaving soon,” she said, reluctant to accept the idea.

“Very soon. But I’m here—we are here—because, as I said, things have changed.”

She swallowed. “Such as?”

“This mission, your father’s permission. I would not walk into danger without tasting you, Roysa. Without ensuring you wait for my return as a hunter waits for the perfect shot. Eagerly. Anticipating each moment.”

Oh dear.

Excitement unfurling inside her, she asked him a final question. “How, my lord, do you propose to accomplish such a thing?”