Callie didn’t know how much of that was true, but from the looks of his body, she would say he was far from invincible.
Still, he possessed a strength and power that was undeniable. Never had she seen his equal.
For the first time in her life, she felt herself drawn toward an Englishman.
What are you thinking?
She blinked. Indeed, what was she thinking. She was the daughter of a laird who had spent his entire life trying to rid their precious lands of the English! Her father had died while fighting them, and she would never betray his memory.
Looking at Lord Sin’s chest, Callie wondered how many of the scars on his body he had received while fighting her own race. And how many of those thousands killed in battle had been Scots?
No doubt, too many.
“There.” She finished wrapping his arm.
Sin frowned at the sudden veil that came over her face. He didn’t know what thought had descended, but he grieved the way it had robbed her serenity.
She gathered her supplies, mumbled a goodbye and quickly left the room.
His frown deepened. He should be thrilled she had finally gone and yet...
Why, all of a sudden, did the room seem colder?
Shaking his head, he banned the thought. He had more important things to do than to dwell on a woman who wasn’t his concern.
Henry would just have to find another of his men to marry her.
The next morning, Sin had finally succeeded in pushing the wench from his thoughts.
Of course, it had taken a cold bath to help, and he had spent an agonizing night tormented by dreams of rose-red lips and sweet green eyes.
But after he broke his fast and stubbed his toe so severely he feared the digit broken, the pain of it had driven the woman right out of his mind.
Now, he was heading toward the stable where he intended a brisk ride to further keep his mind and body under heel.
“Sin?”
He paused mid-stride. The voice sounded strangely familiar, and yet he couldn’t place it.
Looking over his shoulder, he spied a man with dark auburn hair who stood a few inches shorter than him. Again, there was something familiar about the face, but it wasn’t until the stranger smiled that Sin knew his name.
“Little Simon of Ravenswood.” Sin extended his arm to Simon as he stopped by his side. “How long has it been?”
Simon shook his arm and patted his sore forearm with brotherly affection. “Nearly a score of years, I think.”
Aye, it had been. The last time Sin had seen Simon was on the day Simon’s father had ridden to Ravenswood to claim the boy from Harold, the former Earl of Ravenswood.
“Your brother?” Sin asked, thinking of Draven of Ravenswood. The two of them had often been partners in their protection of Simon. “I trust he is well?”
Simon nodded. “Aye, he married Emily of Warwick two years past.”
Sin almost smiled at the news. “Old Hugh finally allowed one of his daughters to marry?”
“Aye. Can you believe it?”
Sin shook his head. “Nay, I can’t. I’m sure there’s quite a story to that.”
“Join me in a drink and I’ll tell you of it. But what of you? Are you marri?—”
