Page 6 of An Outlaw’s Desire

“Those of us who have fought in far off lands….” Reticence touched Sherborne’s features. “Those battles changed us; hardened our hearts, minds, and souls.”

True.

Some nights, Pitt suffered terrors. He woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs, the screams of dying men accompanying memories he wished he could forget. Often, he dreamed of his young son, terrified and alone; despite his best efforts, Pitt was unable to find or help him.

“We both know England has changed since we left to fight for our king.” Sherborne’s voice lowered. “He has neglected these lands and his responsibilities.”

Neglected? The word bordered on treason. Was Sherborne trying to entrap him? “This conversation is over.” Again, Pitt again fixed his gaze on the empty cell.

“Surely you care about the future of these lands.”

Do not answer.

“Think about the folk who are important to you.”

For God’s sake—

With a creak, the main door to the gaol opened, letting in a wash of afternoon sunlight. The burly guard with curly black hair appeared in the embrasure. The iron ring of keys, hooked to his sword belt, chimed as he stepped inside. “His lordship got you chatting, did he?”

Pitt grimaced. “He talked. I had no choice but to listen.”

“No harm done,” Sherborne said with a chuckle. “I merely encouraged him to consider the days ahead, especially folk who are important to him.”

“Did you, now?” The black-haired guard’s gaze shifted from his lordship to Pitt.

Unease pooled in Pitt’s gut. He couldn’t afford to lose his position at the gaol. “I wanted no part of the discussion—as I told his lordship.”

The door closed, returning the interior to torchlight and shadow. Crossing his arms, the second guard leaned back against the wall, near the hooks where Pitt’s worn, gray wool cloak hung. Silence settled; a quietude underscored by an odd tension.

The curly-haired sentry scratched his chin. “Did you and Sherborne discuss your boy?”

Pitt’s spine stiffened. He hadn’t told his lordship about Fenton. Why the hell had his colleague spoken of him?

“So, Pitt,” Sherborne murmured, “you are a father.”

Misgiving grazed Pitt’s soul.

“Since you have a child, mayhap you would care to hear from me why, days ago, I acted as I did.”

Pitt stifled the barest flicker of curiosity. The sheriff had told him the significant details, and he did not care to know more. Pitt was being paid to do a job; ’twas his primary concern.

Sherborne’s chains clanked. The noise grazed on Pitt’s fraying nerves.

“We noblemen strive every day to govern these lands. We should—and can—have an England that better serves us,” Sherborne said.

“Be quiet—”

“Hold,” the second guard said. “Let him speak.”

Warning tugged at Pitt’s conscience. But, mayhap his colleague, more experienced with criminals, saw an opportunity to gather crucial information to pass on to the sheriff and the lawmen in London. If so, Pitt would be wise to go along with the ruse.

The faintest smile touched Sherborne’s lips. “The means to get what we want lies not far from here.”

The means?

Pitt struggled with the sense that his lordship was toying with him and his colleague like a wolf tormenting prey. Yet, within days, his lordship would be taken away. If they had a chance now to glean knowledge from him, they must seize it.

“Explain, if you will.” Pitt hoped his tone sounded sincere.