However ill-timed and destined to be short-lived, she found herself drawn to this handsome warrior. Foolish indeed when soon she would be leaving.
He started to turn away and almost tipped over. Muttering a curse, he righted himself.
“Cailin?”
His lids raised, and she caught his slightly dazed look. She gave a relieved sigh. The valerian root was beginningto take effect.
“Aye?” he replied.
“I want to thank you for rescuing me this day.”
“’Tis naught.”
“I disagree. Many would have ridden past without a care.”
“That, I f-find,” he slurred, “hard to believe.”
“I would have agreed,” Elspet said, “but since Gaufrid MacHugh, Earl of Dalkirk, took control of Tiran Castle years ago, he rules witha brutal hand.”
He sat, braced himself against the wall, giving his head a quick shake, as if to clear the confusion. “Explain?”
What could it hurt? He was unlikely to remember this conversation. “He is a cruel man. All within Dalkirk fear him.”
“As do you?”
Horrific memories of the day before rolled through her. “Nay.I despise him.”
“Why?”
Far from pleased by the shift in the conversation, she looked away.
“Kenzie?”
Tears burned her eyes, and Elspet damned that he’d ask or care. The crackle of flames echoed within the chamber, melded with a faint yell and laughter from below, as if the night waslike any other.
A soft thud had her turning.
Eyes closed, Cailin lay on the floor, his red hair flopped against his cheek. On his next breath, he gave a soft snore.
Anxious as she’d been for this moment to arrive, now regret weighed heavy in her mind. Though she’d known the knight for mere hours, he seemed good, decent, and kind.
Refusing to let her conscience outweigh what she must do, Elspet pushed from the bed and hobbled over to him as quietly as she could. She allowed herself the luxury of skimming her finger along the hard line of his jaw, then slid the pad of her thumb along his firm mouth.
In sleep, his expression had softened, as if he were a gentle man, though she saw the faint scar on his cheek, and another across the side of his neck that disappeared beneath his garb.
He was a man of war, one who would not tolerate being crossed. When he awoke, he’d be furious.
Something that couldn’t be helped.
Pulse racing, Elspet pulled a blanket up to his chest, then moved across the chamber and withdrew his broadsword from the scabbard. The weight of the weapon surprised her, but her gaze shifted to the gold crest etched within the pommel, then to the intricate carvings on the guard. However wrong, this valuable weapon would save Blar’s life.
After securing the sword beneath her cape, she opened the door. Throat tight, she glanced back. “I am sorry, Cailin.” Favoring her ankle, Elspet stepped into the hallway and quietly closed the door in her wake.
* * * *
Through the fog of sleep, Cailin forced his lids open, peered out. He cursed the pounding in his skull, the dizziness blurring his thoughts, and the awful taste coating his tongue. Blast it, where was he, and why did he feel as if he’ddrunk too much?
Foggy memories of the men assaulting Kenzie rushed through his mind, of saving her, and then their travel through the blizzard to the inn.
