“Neither did I miss how she has guided the conversation away from herself.”
Unease crept through Alexander. “Something about the lass has me on edge.”
His younger brother smiled, dropped his hand to his side. “I think ’tis your anger at Patrik spilling over.”
Somber, Alexander shook his head. “When I was hitting Patrik, do you remember how she jumped on my back and tried to choke me?”
“Aye.”
“Surrounded by three knights, most women would have screamed. Yet, the lass did not hesitate in her attack, her hold upon my neck true.” Alexander grimaced. “An untrained lass knows not such defense.”
Duncan stilled. “What are you saying?”
Alexander studied Cristina as she knelt beside Patrik. “I am unsure,” he said at last, “but until I am confident she can be trusted, I am keeping an eye on the lass.”
A tense silence settled between them. After a long moment, Duncan laid a hand upon his brother’s shoulder. “Patrik is back.” He swallowed hard. “Can you believe it?”
Emotions squeezed as if a fist in Alexander’s chest. “I am afraid to believe it. Almost as afraid as I am of my wife’s reaction when she learns Patrik is alive.”
Chapter 13
The stench of burning wood and death tainted the air as Emma worked alongside Marie, aiding the injured Scots. On edge, she glanced to where Sir Alexander helped Fergus reclaim any surviving goods from the charred home, their grim outlines framed in the afternoon light.
A shiver rippled through her. Since her confrontation with Sir Alexander this morning, she’d kept her distance. How had she ever believed Patrik unlike his brothers? In appearance mayhap, but his sharp mind and intelligence matched the other MacGruder brothers. Each was determined, fierce in his passion and utterly dangerous.
At the firm pad of boots upon earth, she glanced to her side.
Fatigue coated Lord Grey’s strong face, along with concern. “How does Sir Eoin fare?” he asked Marie as she worked alongside Emma to bind his knight’s wound.
“A deep gash or two,” Marie replied. “’Twill heal within a sennight.”
“Excellent.”
Marie secured a final knot upon the bandage, stood, wrung her hands. “My lord, we have little food left to offer you and your men.”
“’Tis unnecessary.” Lord Grey scanned the field with a slow sweep. “You and your family will travel with us to my home. Go to your husband, gather what you wish to take.”
Relief swept her face. “’Tis generous of you, my lord.”
“Go. We will soon depart.”
“Aye, my lord.” She hesitated as if wanting to say more. Then, scooping up Joneta, Marie headed up the slope toward the crosses.
“God’s teeth,” the earl breathed, “I told the lass to go to her husband.” He started after her.
“Do not,” Emma said.
Lord Grey whirled. Piercing green eyes riveted on her. “Do not?”
The authority in his voice assured her few dared question him. Emma stood. “Her children are buried there. She is but going to say good-bye.”
Shrewd eyes glanced at the woman’s departing figure. “I see.”
Did he? Could the earl truly understand Marie’s need to say farewell to those she’d given life to, her children now entombed within the earth? A maternal need she would never before have considered. She remembered Lord Grey’s interaction with his brothers, how without hesitation he’d helped Patrik, and his concern for each within his command. Yes, the earl was a man who understood family, a man who cared about his own, a trait infused in Patrik as well.
“You are a kind man.” Emma stilled. She’d not meant to say the words aloud.
The earl lifted a dark brow, his intense gaze as potent as his brother’s.
