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“Your own father would agree you are too reckless doing it,” his cousin shot back.

“And yours would agree that fighting for something half-measure is meaningless.”

“Ahhh.” Reina cleared her throat, pointing toward the stables. The three men they’d seen leave earlier, mounted on hobbles and confirming his suspicion they were, indeed, reivers, looked their way. Not surprising, as he and Rory had been shouting.

“We can debate this another time,” Galien said. “For now, we eat?”

“And drink,” Rory agreed.

As they began to move toward the door, Reina stopped him. After riding with her, sleeping near her, being so close to Reina every moment of the day, her hand on his arm should not have such an effect.

But it did.

“Will we not be exposed in here? If my father’s men still look for us. . .” Realizing she still gripped him, Reina, unfortunately, let go of his arm.

“There is little need to hide here. Edgar would be likely to raze his own inn before allowing your father’s men inside. Noblemen are not the sort of patrons Keston House either attracts or wants—English or Scottish.”

“But. . .” She blinked. “Is Sir Rory’s father not the Lord of Bristol Manor? And therefore a noble?”

Stop staring at the woman’s lips.

“Aye. But my family is. . . different.” He waved Rory along, explaining, “My Uncle Geoffrey—”

“The Earl of Kenshire?”

“Aye. He and Uncle Bryce are brothers. Between Bristol and Kenshire and up to my home, in Brockburg, the area has become known as ‘the passage.’ As you know, the borders have grown more and more dangerous of late. But between our lands, it is not so. My clan and English cousins fight, as our fathers have before us, to keep it safe. Those with no ill intent are protected.”

“So. . . the passage is a way for both sides to remain safe as they travel?”

“Aye, lass.”

She peered up at him, so close that if he took one step and leaned down, his lips could cover hers in a moment. Reina would allow it, and that was exactly the problem. She desired him, as he did her. But Reina did not understand how easily that desire could spin out of control. He, on the other hand, knew well the consequences of such a thing. Rory had nearly caused a war allowing his good judgement to be overridden by passion.

“I’d not realized how influential you were. . . then.”

She meant when he was locked inside her father’s prison cell.

“I am but one man. ’Tis my family, my clan, that lends me any influence I might have.”

They were safe, for now. Had evaded her father’s men, tonight. He would spend the evening with one of his favorite people—despite Rory’s reckless nature, or maybe because of it, Galien loved his cousin most of all his English family.

The relief of it all, the joy of seeing but one of his family members. . . he would blame it on a good mood. After having just talked himself out of this very thing, Galien closed the space between them. His heart hammered as if they were still being chased.

He’d control it.

He would not touch her despite that his hands itched to reach inside that plaid.

Just, one, kiss.

18

“God’s bones, will you stay there all eve?”

Galien spun toward the sound, where his cousin watched them in fascination. With a curse muttered under his breath, Galien turned from her and made his way to Rory.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He’d not. Which was the problem.