* * * *
“Sir Hugh, get back!” a deepvoice muttered.
In a groggy haze, Elspet sat up and grabbed her dagger at her side. Vision blurred with sleep, she peered out of the tent and scanned the camp for signsof intruders.
Several fires burned cheerfully in the dark, groups of men gathered around each, but their numbers were fewer, proof that hours had passed since she’d fallen asleep. What had woken her? In the wavering light spilling into their tent from a nearby fire, she glanced toward Cailin, the question dying on her lips.
Face taut, he turned to his side on his pallet, his eyes closed and the furs covering him tossed aside. “I said go!”
Her body relaxed, and she sheathed her dagger. Thank God ’twas not an attack. Yet whatever troubled him was enough to disturb his thoughts even in sleep. He twisted as if fighting invisible warriors.
“Cailin,” shesoftly called.
He mumbled somethingunintelligible.
Wanting to avoid alerting those outside, she wrapped a blanket around herself, then crawled next to him and carefully drewup his covers.
As her fingers brushed his chest, his hand snapped out, caught hers.
She jerked back; Cailin held tight.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
“Trying,” she said, unable to help but notice the stubble lining his jaw, frustrated he hadn’t replied a moment ago, but stirred at the slightest touch, “to pull up your blanket. You were having a nightmare and threw off your covers.”
On a sigh, he released her, sat up.
She rubbed her wrist.
Giving himself a visible shake, he ran a hand over his face. “Return to your bed.”
Moved by the raw anguish of his words, she remained. “You spoke aloud. Who is Sir Hugh?”
Silence.
“You were warning him toget back. Why?”
“Many years have passed.”
Dark grief tangled in his voice, and she shifted closer, wanting to understand, offer the comfort he’d given her. He stiffened but didn’t shrug her off. “But his death still haunts you,” she said softly.
“It does.”
“What happened?”
In the subtle waver of distant firelight, the grief in his eyes was that of a man who’d seen too much death. “He was killed taking an arrowmeant for me.”
Her chest squeezed. Unsure what to say, understanding too well the heartache of losing someone you cared for, she lay her hand upon his arm. “I am sorry.”
“’Twas years ago.”
Mayhap, but from his torment, the memory was still raw in his mind. “You were close?”
“He was like abrother to me.”
She ached to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, but with the stiff way he sat, he wouldn’t welcome her touch right now. “Where were you?”
“Inthe Holy Land.”
