And though both he and Sin had tried to tell her that, it wasn’t until this moment that she actually believed it.
“Where are we to sleep now?” she asked the men as they slowly picked their way through the dark woods. “And what are we going to do with the horses?”
It was Braden who answered her. “Since we have the horses, I say we ride them into the MacDouglas lands until it starts to draw notice, then we leave them to graze. As for the night, anyone feel up to riding through it?”
Sin growled. “Now you think to ride? Where was that thought two days ago before I wore my legs out walking?”
Braden laughed. “You should be grateful. Better these nags be stolen than your warhorse or my Deamhan.”
Sin grudgingly ceded the point.
“I would just as soon see this behind us,” Maggie said quietly. In truth, too much had already happened on this journey and all she really wanted was to get this last confrontation over and done with.
So, they rode in silence.
Long after midnight, and once the rain had ceased to fall, Maggie began to dose in the saddle.
Braden paused as he saw her nodding off. Afraid she might fall and hurt herself, he pulled her into his own saddle.
She awoke with a start.
“Shh,” he said. “I didn’t want you to fall. Go back to sleep.”
Instead of the argument he’d expected, she nodded once, rested her head against his chest and instantly renewed her sleeping.
Her trust amazed him. But not nearly as much as the strange tenderness he felt in his heart as he gazed down at her russet head leaning against his bare chest. Her breath tickled ever so slightly as she breathed against his shoulder. And it was all he could do not to cover her lips with his own and run his hand through her short curls.
His body roared to life, demanding her soft form.
For once, Braden took comfort in it. After what had transpired with Tara, he had begun to wonder foolishly if perhaps something was wrong with him. But the fire in his groin for her confirmed his earlier suspicion. It was Maggie he wanted.
Maggie alone.
He shook his head.
Who would have ever thought that he, Braden MacAllister, would be pining away for plain little Maggie ingen Blar and her ugly shoes?
Marry her.
The words flitted across his mind so fast that he almost missed them. And for a minute, he allowed the thought to tempt him.
But it was impossible. He refused to marry a woman he might be in love with. ‘Twould be suicide.
“What is on your mind?” Sin asked all of a sudden.
Startled, Braden looked up to see Sin turned around in the saddle, watching him. “What’s that?”
“You’re looking a bit pensive back there and I was wondering what thought you had tormenting you.”
“Who says I’m being tormented?”
Sin reined his horse to where they could ride apace of each other. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps that death grip you have on Maggie and the way you’re looking at her as if you can’t decide to cradle her or toss her from your horse.”
Braden hated the way Sin could read him so easily. “That is one uncanny ability you have there, brother. No wonder those English friends of yours swear you sold your soul to the devil.”
Sin looked at him stoically. “A man has to have a soul before he can sell it.”
Braden grew quiet. There was a lot hidden in those words. Years of pain and suffering. His brother had lived through the worst life had to offer and his strength was amazing. But more than that, Braden felt guilty for it. The other lairds had sent their youngest sons as hostages to the English. And by rights, it should have been him who suffered in Sin’s stead.
