“You need to go back to where I asked you to stay and wait. Once I am finished here, I will come for you.”
“I will not leave you here alone.”
Colyne lifted his head. Tears filled his eyes and anguish carved his face. “You will—”
“Non,” she interrupted, furious Renard had used her as a pawn to put Scotland’s freedom at risk. “You will not face this alone. Do you think this does not affect me?”
He released a raw breath. “You should have stayed beyond the knoll.”
“Why?”
“These are my people.”
“They were slaughtered! Innocent people cut down in cold blood.” She caught his hands, needing him to understand this act of savagery was as devastating to her as it was to him. “If you think I will stand by and not help you bury them, you know little of me.”
He drew her forward, his eyes burning into hers. “I have tried to. . . I am sorry. I am so sorry.” Colyne claimed her mouth, demanding, taking, shattering her with the intensity of his kiss. But beneath the anger, she tasted his grief. This wasn’t about passion but need. To know there was still good left within the world.
Without warning he released her, and she stumbled back. “Colyne,” she said, breathless, her lips still tingling.
He held up his hands, his face pale with shock. “I should nae have touched you.”
“You—”
Anger stormed his eyes. “I had nay right!” He dropped his hands and stalked off.
Grief swept her. All he could see was his wrong, not the man devastated by loss. Marie ran in front of him, forcing him to halt. He glared at her, but she held her ground. “I understand,” she said, her mind still warring against the horrors around her. She pressed her fingers on the side of his face, his tears warm against her hand.
Colyne flinched, but he didn’t move away. “You understand naught.”
“I believe you are a man of great compassion. People you love have been murdered. You grieve. How could you not?” Marie stroked the back of her hand against his cheek as tears streamed down her face. She’d not believed the situation could worsen, but it had. “You knew them.”
He turned away, but not before she witnessed him wiping away his tears.
“Oh, Colyne.” She stepped closer, unsure how to console this compassionate warrior, or if she even could.
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Let me help you.”
His gaze searched hers. “Why is it you are never what I expect to find?” He closed his eyes and then drew her against him.
For a long while he held her, with their hearts torn, their grief a living thing, but in their unity they found strength.
And within his embrace, Marie understood that the situation between them had changed. After this moment, no matter how much each wished to remain distant from the other, they could never be strangers.
However much the thought of leaving him hurt, she found solace in the memories she would have of this gallant man, a man of honor, determination, and great compassion. He protected those he loved. Wept for those he lost. Compared to Colyne, those who had pursued her in the past, men whose greed dictated their lives, were but empty shells of humanity.
He brushed a tear from her face. “Come.” He turned toward the devastation.
Without question, she followed.
For the next several hours they worked to bury his friends, the crackle and hissing of burning wood as the fire raged, a macabre backdrop.
With a blackened shovel, Colyne heaved the next pile of dirt atop the shallow grave. Emotions choking him, he forced himself to continue. By God, his friends would be buried with honor.
A short distance away, Alesia walked toward the gutted crofter’s hut, now a charred skeleton consumed by flames. She halted. A gasp escaped her as she collapsed to her knees, and her hand closed around the shredded remains of a doll. She clutched the doll against her chest, great heaving sobs wracking her slender frame.
