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He hesitated, but this was her sister. Reid reminded himself Gillian was only trying to protect her sister.

He nodded, holding out his hand for the sword, which she gave him. As for Gillian . . . “My lady, we need to discuss—”

“I do not wish to speak with you. Now or ever. Perhaps I did not make myself clear earlier. Or let me say it a bit differently. ‘I would not presume to discuss such matters now.’”

It took him a moment to understand, but the mocking tone quickly brought him back to their first meeting. He’d said those words to Graeme at The Wild Boar, not wanting to be overheard by the tavern’s patrons. But Lady Gillian had clearly taken it to mean he did not wish to speak openly in front of her, a woman.

“You are mistaken, my lady. I did not mean—”

“Did you mean to take the barmaid to your bed?” she mocked. “Surely I did not mistake your intentions with that woman in The Wild Boar.”

Reid tried to remain calm, but she was beginning to provoke him.

“Nay,” he said. “You did not.” He gripped the hilt of Allie’s sword tightly. “I took her to my bed.”

Reid heard Allie’s gasp behind him as he walked away, and though he was immediately sorry for the hard words, he did not take them back.

Not only had he failed to endear himself to Gillian, but Allie was no doubt furious with him as well. The last thing he heard was Gillian saying, “You have much to explain.”

12

Allie was shaking.

Angry with both her sister and Reid, she sunk deeper into the wooden tub, determined not to get out until the water turned cold. With so many guests in attendance, Allie would not normally have asked for a bath to be brought to her chamber. But she needed time alone. She’d already asked Morgan to bring her meal to her.

Gillian had not been happy, of course, but Allie would not be swayed.

Morgan had left a washing cloth and bar of rose-scented soap on a stool next to the tub. She picked up both items and began to wash, attempting to cleanse away the entire afternoon. The memories clung to her, resistant to her efforts.

She’d tried to explain her training to Gillian, who of course did not understand. More importantly, her sister refused to even discuss the matter of Reid. And when Gillian pointed to his parting words as evidence of the man’s character, Allie had not known what to say.

The words had been harsh.

They’d come from the same man who’d propositioned her outside this tower.

The one who looked at others as if they lived to serve his pleasure. The one who did not appear to care about anything or anyone. Who wielded words as weapons just as sharp as the swords with which the men trained.

Reid had said that this man was a part of him, and here was her evidence, but she knew it was not the sum of him.

Aye, as Gillian had been quick to remind her, she had been sheltered at Lyndwood. Her sister might be right—she knew little of the world and of men. And yet . . .

I know that Reid looks at me differently than anyone else. And that he cares for me.

“Ahh,” she groaned when the door opened behind her. “Not yet, Morgan.”

She’d not expected the maid so soon. She must have gone straight to the kitchen, for the meal could not have already begun.

“I’ve just begun to wash.”

“Then allow me to assist you.”

Allie spun around so quickly the water splashed all around her and onto the floor.

“Reid! What are you—”

He pulled the stool out next to the tub and sat on it as if he were a king . . . the stool, his throne.

“You cannot . . .” She looked down at the murky water. A white sheen hid all but her shoulders and arms. When Allie glanced back up, the look in Reid’s eyes sent a shiver down her spine despite the warmth of the water.