His mouth tightened. “She has said naught.”
Blast it. He wished he could turn back time to the day in the cave. If only for a while to savor the way she had watched him with desire, and how foolishly he had wanted more. Aiden pushed aside the canvas.
At the scrape of fabric, she turned. Gray eyes narrowed. “Leave me.”
A cold welcome he’d anticipated. In a way, one he had almost hoped for. At least she wasna indifferent. He entered, let the flap fall into place, secluding themfrom the world.
She turned her back on him.
“I need to explain.”
Silence.
Aiden stepped closer. “Cailin, Rónán, and I were sent to study Latharn Castle.”
“To gather information?”
At least she’d replied. He would find solacein that. “Aye.”
She whirled, her face flushed with anger. “’Tis why King Robert is here, is it not? You and the others were to report to him what you learned so he could devise an attack?”
“Aye. Latharn Castle was to be seized before Lord Comyn learned of the Bruce’s intent.”
“And what of me? Or,” she demanded, “am I naught but chattel tobe cast aside?”
“God’s sword,” he hissed, “you were never supposed to be involved!”
“Odd, given’twas my home.”
He muttered a curse, damned the entire situation. “King Robert will ensure you are well cared for.”
“Will he? Oh, aye. I forget that I am to heed your words as you are a man whom I can trust. I assure you,” she said, her voice ripe with sarcasm, “you bring megreat comfort.”
“Gwendolyn—”
She stormed over, thrust her finger against his chest. “How dare you come here, thinking I could care about anything you have to say? Aiden, is it? Or is that today’s false name, to be replaced by another tomorrow?”
“You are angry—”
“Angry, nay, furious. You played the role of my husband, touched me, allowed me to…” Her entire body trembled with fury. “You are despicable!”
Aiden’s gut tightened. He searched her face for a glimmer of softening, a chance that somewhere in this twisted mess she’d find a sliverof forgiveness.
Failed.
He swallowed hard, wishing he could undo what he had done but doubted a time would ever come when he could repair the damage he had caused her. “I regret the distress youhave endured.”
Her mouth tightened. “IsBróccín dead?”
“He is. On my way to your castle, my men and I came across him, mortally wounded.”
“So he didna betray Lord Comyn.”
“Nay.”
Her gaze shrewd, Gwendolyn studied him for a long moment, as if unsure of whether to accept his claim as true. “Why would he trust you with Lord Comyn’s betrothal writ?”
“We were friends as children,” Aiden admitted. “When I told Bróccín who I was, and believing me loyal to his liege lord, he gave me the writ. He explained the content, and requested I pass on his regrets for having failed you.”
