Errol should pull away. Put that distance betwixt them, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the heat from her body warm his arm that was so close to touching her.
“Did my family hurt ye?” Her eyes traveled the length of his body as if she were searching for wounds or scars branded with the Hart name.
“Aye. Nay.” He blew out an exasperated breath and raked his fingernails over his scalp. “My brother. He was on a watch with other guards from our clan. They were on MacLeod lands. No’ raiding. They had done naught wrong.”
Moira’s hand flew to her mouth, her face stricken as if she kenned what his next words were going to be.
“The whole party was struck down. On our own lands,” he spat. “’Twas the Harts,” he said matter-offactly, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Nay,” Moira gasped. “We wouldnae. Why? If they werenae on Hart land, but e’en then, they wouldnae have been killed for it.” She shook her head vehemently. “Nay. Ye are wrong.”
“I am no’,” he growled, and she shrank back from the vehemence in his voice. “My brother was only ten and seven.”
“Errol,” she whispered. “I am so sorry. But my, we, we wouldnae have done such an atrocity.” She reached for his arm, but he pulled away.
He didn’t want her touch. Her pity.
He wanted her to admit to what her family had done to destroy his.
She clenched the hand that still hung in the air into a tiny fist afore bringing it to her chest.
“I refuse to believe that. My clan is one of peace. We only use violence when ’tis forced upon us.”
Errol barked out a laugh. The sound echoing off the walls of the bothy. “So naive. Dinnae ye ken? Just as the MacLeods have done ourfair share of misdeeds, so have the Harts. Neither of us are innocent. Why dinnae ye think there is no peace betwixt our clans? My brother’s death is one of the reasons. Until we see justice for Gavin, we will no’ rest.”
He pushed off the bed, ignoring the pain that lanced through his arm at the sudden movement.
“Errol,” she called.
He spun and shook his head. “Nay. I dinnae want to speak of it any longer.” His arm hurt. His head hurt, and most of all, his heart hurt. He hadn’t wanted to bring up Gavin. Didn’t really ken why he did. For one weak moment, he opened up to his enemy. Because that was what Moira Hart was—his enemy.
Aye, he’d help her on this silly quest of hers. But he wouldn’t open his heart up to her again. He’d shown her his weakness, and she could use that against him. He’d been a fool.
He dropped into the chair in front of the fire and rested his sword against the arm. Distance from Moira was what he needed. When she was close, he couldn’t think straight. His thoughts jumbled as if they were being tossed around in the river and then dropping over the falls.
It wouldn’t happen again.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured.
Moira opened her mouth and he thought she was going to fight him on it. But he pierced her with a glare, and she shrunk back, sliding down the bed and brought the throws up to her chin. He really hadn’t meant to scare the lass. But he needed to show her that they weren’t friends. They never would be.
He turned to the dancing flames of the fire. His gaze followed the bursts of sparks made when a log collapsed, sending embers in all directions.
His thoughts were like those sparks. Roaming around carelessly with no sense of direction.
It was a position he hadn’t been faced with afore.
And he found he didn’t like it one bit.
*
The two hadfinally settled into bed for the night. Well, the lass was in bed. The MacLeod sat in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames, a dour look settled on his face.
He was lucky that he hadn’t been caught up in the battle that had ensued earlier. He easily could have been. As it was, it was a miracle that his presence hadn’t been noticed.
The four men that had attacked the MacLeod and the Hart bitch had met a quick death at the end of the MacLeod’s blade. Hell, even the Hart bitch had a dagger with which she fought. Not that she needed it. The MacLeod was well-trained and even though he fought four men, they were no match for him.
Once again, he’d remained in the shadows. Watching quietly.
