The Ranger

by Monica McCarty

  He gazed back over the wall to the mini-kingdom below.

  It was a telling movement, and she sucked in her breath at the significance. Too much to lose. His father wouldn’t risk it. “Nay,” she said, stepping back. “You can’t! Your father can’t submit. Bruce will kill him for what your father did to his wife and daughter.”

  She spoke without thought, and she could tell that the reminder of what his father had done in violating sanctuary and turning Bruce’s womenfolk over to the English was not something Sir Hugh wanted to be reminded of. For the first time, she caught something resembling shame on his proud features.

  “Bruce has vowed to forgive all the nobles who were against him, if they submit.”

  “And you believe the word of a traitor? Surely, you cannot think King Hood will forgive your father and the rebellious men of Ross and Moray? The fires have barely died from the ‘harrying of Buchan.’ ”

  He did not argue with her. But his jaw was clenched tight as he said, “What choice do we have? The tide has turned toward Bruce. The people think he is a hero—a warrior king who defeated the English. Submitting may be the only way to survive. My father is willing to die if it means our clan will continue.”

  Anna’s mind spun. Never, in all her imaginings, had she expected Ross to submit.

  What did this mean for her clan? Would her father do the same?

  Nay. Her father would never submit. And for the first time, Anna realized what that might cost them.

  Sobered by what Sir Hugh had confided, Anna felt little relief in knowing that her conduct had not been to blame. “Thank you for telling me,” she said.

  He gave her a long look. “What will you do?”

  “Fight,” she answered. Even alone. What else could they do?

  “You will marry Campbell?”

  Her cheeks heated. After what had happened last night it was natural to assume … But there hadn’t been much of a chance to discuss the future.

  He seemed to understand her silence. “How well do you know him?”

  The hint of warning in his voice roused the little voice in the back of her head that she’d sought to quiet. “Sir Arthur arrived at Dunstaffnage last month with his brother to answer my father’s call for knights and men-at-arms.”

  It seemed to confirm something for him. “There’s something strange about him. Something off. He’s not what he appears.”

  Anna sprang immediately to his defense, thinking Sir Hugh must be picking up on Arthur’s unusual abilities. “He’s just quiet,” she said. “He likes to keep to himself.”

  Sir Hugh looked at her appraisingly, as if he wanted to say more, but instead he nodded.

  She was relieved when he told her he would explain things to her brother and parents, making no mention of the compromising situation in which he’d found her, agreeing simply that they didn’t suit.

  By the time he’d led her back to the tower, Anna was feeling much relieved. With some of her guilt assuaged, she allowed a little bit of the happiness she’d felt in discovering that the man she loved cared about her to return. She couldn’t wait to see him—and talk to him.

  Surprisingly, given the intimacies they’d shared, she wasn’t embarrassed. Even now, after all that had happened, it seemed right.

  She was just about to take her first step up the stairs that led from the yard to the tower, when she glanced to the left and glimpsed Sir Arthur coming out of the barracks.

  Her heart jumped. She smiled and instinctively took a step toward him, but then stopped in her tracks. He wore his armor and it was obvious he was getting ready for practice, but she could make out enough of his face beneath the visor of his helm.

  It wasn’t as if she expected him to race across the yard to her—at least, not with Sir Hugh still at her side. But a look of tenderness would have been nice. Anything would have been nice compared to the look of regret—aye, and even shame—that swept across his handsome features.

  The joy that had made her heart leap fizzled, bringing it crashing to the ground.

  She felt Sir Hugh stiffen beside her, as he noticed what had caught her eye.

  Arthur’s gaze shifted to the other knight. She could feel the animosity sparking between the two men. It was Arthur who retreated first. He nodded to them both, and then moved away to join the other warriors.

  Anna told herself not to be disappointed. Not to overreact. They would talk later. In private. She’d probably imagined what she thought she’d read in his eyes.

  But Sir Hugh’s next words told her she hadn’t. “If it doesn’t work out the way you plan, Lady Anna, I’ll be here.” A man to count on.

  She prayed Arthur was as well.

  Sixteen

  It had taken them longer to leave Auldearn Castle than Arthur had anticipated. Alan MacDougall had been locked away with the earl, his council, and Sir Hugh in the solar for three more days, attempting, Arthur assumed, to persuade Ross to join forces even absent a betrothal. Thankfully, Alan’s efforts had been to no avail.

  As Arthur had not been privy to the meetings, he could not be certain of the earl’s reasons, but the refusal boded well for King Robert. He would pass on the information as soon as he had the opportunity. He didn’t think any messages had been passed, but he would check Anna and Alan’s belongings at the first opportunity to make sure.

  They’d left Auldearn at dawn, reversing the journey that ended only a week ago, pushing hard to make it safely past Urquhart Castle on the first day. The men, taking a cue from their lord and lady, seemed to sense that all had not gone as hoped, and the cloud of failure weighed heavily on the travelers. The mood was somber, if not outright morose.

  Arthur knew he should be relieved and pleased that his mission had been a success. Ross and Lorn would not be joining forces. The MacDougalls’ failure would help bring Bruce one step closer to victory and Arthur one step closer to seeing his enemy destroyed. Seeing John of Lorn pay for what he’d done to his father was what he wanted most in the world.

  Wasn’t it?

  It should be, damn it. But he’d feared it was going to cost him far more than he’d ever anticipated.

  Behind the mask of his helm he could give in to the urge to look at her. He felt it again, sharp and burning. It wasn’t just his conscience eating at him but something else. The twinges of pain in his chest when he looked at her had become almost unbearable. But it hurt even more not to look at her.

  She rode ahead of him, beside her brother and serving maid, allowing him only the occasional glimpse of her profile. He didn’t need to see her face to know his silence on what had happened between them was hurting her. Badly.

  God, what had he done? And more importantly, what the hell was he going to do about it?

  Now that they were away from the castle, he couldn’t avoid it—or her—any longer.

  He knew what he should do. He didn’t need to be a knight to know that after coming within inches (literally) of taking her virginity, he should offer for her. No doubt it was what she was expecting—and should be expecting, damn it. If he had any honor, he would. But those inches gave him just enough of an excuse not to.

  The battle within him was intensifying. Every instinct urged him to go to her, to give in to the feelings—damn it, the emotions—tossing around inside him, but the other part of him, the rational part, held him back from doing something even more damaging.

  Even if at times he wanted to forget it, he was lying to her. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell her the truth. His duty and loyalty belonged to Bruce. Whatever feelings he had for her didn’t change that. They were on opposite sides of a brewing storm. Eventually she would discover his true allegiance and learn that the only reason he was at Dunstaffnage was to spy on and help destroy her family. Offering for her, he knew, would only make his ultimate betrayal that much worse.

  It was an impossible situation, and one, he knew, of his own making. He should have stayed away from her. But her smile, her vitality, her sweetness and kindness
, had chipped away at his good intentions. When he looked into those big blue eyes, it made him long for something that he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.

  He liked being alone, damn it! It was easier and a hell of a lot less complicated.

  But she made him yearn for something he couldn’t afford to give in view of what was to come. And hurting her like this—and not being able to do anything to change it—was tearing him apart. He was finding it difficult to focus on anything else.

  Though she hadn’t turned to look at him, he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. He’d seen the way her shoulders had stiffened as he’d ridden up behind them.

  With Richard and Alex scouting ahead, Arthur had circled behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed. They were nearing the day’s end of their journey, and as they drew closer Urquhart Castle—where Bruce’s men had come upon them before—they had to be especially careful. Again, they would skirt well west of the road to avoid patrols from the “enemy” fortress.

  “Here, my lady,” he heard her maid say. “Lady Euphemia had the cook make these especially for you, seeing how much you loved them.”

  The older woman tried to ply her with the sugary confection, but Anna shook her head, the wan attempt at a smile tearing another shred in his heart. “Nay, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

  The servant huffed, pursed her mouth, and chomped down on the almond treat with little enthusiasm. She had barely finished chewing before she tried again. Drawing what looked to be a small meat pie from her bag, she said, “How about a bit of mutton and barley.” She sniffed dramatically. “It smells delicious, and it’s still warm.”

  Anna shook her head again. “You go ahead. I’ll have something when we stop.”

  The maid murmured something under her breath. “You must eat something, my lady,” she whispered urgently, shooting Arthur an angry glare.

  His jaw clenched, guessing who the maid blamed for her mistress’s lack of appetite.

  “I will,” Anna said placatingly. She called out to her brother, who’d ridden slightly ahead. “When will we stop for the night, brother?”

  “Soon, I hope.” Alan looked around, and seeing Arthur had returned, he motioned him forward.

  Steeling himself, Arthur did as the other man bid, lifting the visor of his helm as he swung around the handful of riders between them.

  “Anything suspicious?” Alan said.

  He shook his head. “Not so far. When Richard and Alex return we can make sure, but if nothing looks out of the ordinary we can stop at the falls as planned.”

  “We aren’t returning to the loch where we made camp last time?”

  She was talking to him. Unable to avoid it any longer, he turned his gaze to hers—slowly. He wasn’t prepared for the searing heat that cut through him when their eyes met. He—who had barely moved when an arrow had sunk deep into his shoulder, when a sword blade had sliced open his gut, or the numerous times he hadn’t been fast enough to catch his brother’s dagger—flinched, seeing the sadness and unspoken question in her eyes.

  She looked tired and unbearably fragile. Tiny lines were etched around her eyes, and her skin seemed paler than usual.

  He gritted his teeth, fighting the desperate urge that rose inside him to give her what she wanted.

  Offer for her.

  Damn it, he couldn’t. It would only make it worse.

  “Nay, my lady,” he answered evenly. “It’s safer if we don’t retrace our steps too closely. We’ll camp at different places each night. There’s a waterfall in the forest near Dhivach, at the head of the glen, southeast of the castle. We’ll stop there tonight.”

  She nodded, looking as if she wanted to say more, but conscious that they were not alone. “Is it much farther?”

  “Three or four miles. We should be there before dark.”

  “I—” She stopped herself, but the way she was looking at him tore at his insides. “Thank you.”

  When he finally dragged his eyes away, he was surprised to see that one of Alan’s men had come up behind him.

  He frowned, but was too caught up in his own turmoil to heed the warning.

  Apparently, one of Anna’s trunks had not been well secured and had fallen out of the cart. When Anna and her maidservant went back to check to make sure nothing had been lost, Arthur was grateful for the interruption. But he knew he could not put off the inevitable discussion for much longer.

  Indeed, Alan’s parting words before he rode ahead to check on Richard and Alex ensured it. “I don’t know what the hell happened at Auldearn, Campbell, but my sister is unhappy.” The older knight’s gaze leveled on him, his blue eyes wintry and utterly ruthless. His father’s son after all. “Fix it. Or I will.”

  Arthur’s mouth fell in a grim line. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand his meaning. The threat didn’t bother him. What bothered him was that he couldn’t do as her brother asked. Nothing could fix it.

  * * *

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  Startled, Arthur jumped to his feet, causing the snare he’d been setting to snap.

  She’d surprised him. Something Anna would wager didn’t happen very often. Perhaps she hadn’t imagined the turmoil in his eyes earlier. He’d looked at her with barely repressed longing. But something was holding him back.

  The disappointment she’d felt that first morning had only worsened with each day that passed, and he still hadn’t sought her out—let alone offered for her. She’d tried to convince herself that he was simply waiting to speak to her father, but it didn’t explain why he was avoiding her.

  “Are you following me again, Anna?”

  If he was trying to distract her by putting her on the defensive, it wasn’t going to work. “It’s hardly following when camp is but a few yards away.” She motioned to the twine and sticks. “I saw you take the snare from your bag and figured you wouldn’t be going far.”

  She searched his face, half-hidden in the shadows. At least an hour of daylight remained, but under the dense canopy of trees in the forest, night seemed much closer. She took a step toward him, narrowing the gap between them. His jaw tightened and his entire body drew up stiffly. She could see the slight flare of his nostrils—as if her closeness bothered him.

  Tears gathered behind her eyes. Why was he acting like this? Was she so offensive?

  “Are you going to answer me?” Her voice broke, the emotion and uncertainty of the past few days catching up to her. She wanted to put her hand on his chest to steady herself, but she feared she would fall apart completely if he jerked away. “Do I not deserve an explanation?”

  He sighed and stepped away from her, ostensibly to drag his fingers through his hair. Though he still wore his armor, he’d removed his helm. His dark brown hair fell in soft waves to the edge of his habergeon of mail. “Aye, lass, you do. I intended to speak to you once I’d seen to our meal.”

  She didn’t know whether to believe him, but she waited for him to continue. She’d said enough. It was his turn to speak.

  “What happened was …”

  Beautiful? Amazing? Perfect?

  “… unfortunate.”

  Her heart plummeted—not the word she was hoping for.

  “I’m ashamed of my conduct,” he said, sounding every inch the stiff, courtly knight. “I never should have let it go so far—”

  Unable to stand the regret and distance in his voice any longer, she cut him off. “Why are you talking like this? Why are you acting as if it didn’t mean anything?”

  His jaw hardened and the pulse in his neck began to tic ominously.

  He tried to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. Her chest burned. “Did it mean anything, Arthur?” His gaze bit into her, scorching in its intensity. She drew a deep, ragged breath through her tight throat. “It did to me.”

  “Anna …” He seemed to be waging some kind of internal war. The muscles in his arm were rigid under her fingertips; his powerful body seemed to radiate tension. “Why are you ma
king this so difficult?”

  “Me? You are the one making it difficult. It’s a simple enough question. It either meant something to you or it didn’t.”

  She held his gaze, refusing to let him turn away, waiting for him to say something. His face was strained taut, as if she were torturing him.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

  “I can’t.” He gave her a hard look. “Don’t you see, it would never work.”

  My God. Her heart felt lodged in her throat as the realization struck: He’s not going to ask for me. How could she have so completely misread the situation?

  No! She hadn’t. Something else was at work here. “Why not?”

  “We’re completely wrong for each other. Family is everything to you. But for me? My parents died when I was young. My brothers have been fighting on opposite sides of the war for years. I know nothing about family.”

  “I can show you—”

  He cut her off angrily. “I don’t want you to show me. I like to be alone. And you …” He waved his hand. “I’d wager you’ve never been alone a day in your life. You deserve to be surrounded by family and friends, with a husband who adores you and a handful of children tugging at your skirts. Don’t tell me that you don’t want that, because I know you do.”

  She did want that—with him. “Don’t you want children?”

  His mouth turned white, as if the question—the thought—caused him pain. “You’re missing the point.”

  “Am I? Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not that you like to be alone, but that you have not been around the right people?” She paused, letting her words sink in. She understood why he kept himself apart, but Anna suspected that he would feel differently with a family who loved him—who accepted him. “If you care for me, none of the rest matters.” His face was about as yielding as granite, but she pressed on. “Do you care for me, Arthur?”

  She held his gaze, daring him to lie to her. He looked as if he wanted to. Eventually he admitted, “Aye. But it doesn’t matter.”

  He did care for her. She hadn’t been wrong. She shook her head. “It’s all that matters.”