Page 33

Rory did not move. “I am to,” he looked to his right and left, “nowhere. I believe I shall remain here. Another pitcher,” he asked the serving boy.

“Good eve,” Galien said, taking a step away from the table. Stopping, he added, “Thank you.”

No more needed to be said.

“You are most welcome, Gael.” Rory smiled. “I can tell Haydn the score is even.”

Rory had indeed saved his life, warning them away from Bristol. One, or more, of their family members would always be in danger. Such was life along the border. But tonight, the only thing threatening Galien was his own mind as it battled with itself. A losing battle, it seemed, as he found himself walking toward the stairs instead of the loft.

Just to ensure Reina was safe.

20

Reina unwrapped the plaid, folded it, and put it atop the trunk at the foot of her bed. It was surprisingly well furnished, something she’d not been expecting given what Galien and his cousin had told her, and what Reina had witnessed herself, about the place.

How had she come to be here? A sennight ago, her maid would have been removing her boots. Not she. As she unwrapped her braid, with no brush to speak of, Reina used her fingers to smooth the strands. She’d have been well-fed, and after having bathed in a steaming hot tub, Reina would have lain on her feather pillow, closing her eyes with only thoughts of who she and Joan might assist the next day. Or perhaps how she could make an excuse to escape her tutor. Or talk of her betrothal, one of Reina’s mother’s favorite topics.

Since her own had been broken, her parents spoke of little else, though no one prospect had been agreed upon. Reina had little choice in the matter, but still she made her opinion known. Her father, tolerant of her words, listened but made little comment. Likely because he would choose a man with no regard of Reina’s thoughts.

As they did each time Reina allowed herself to think of her parents, her eyes began to well. She refused to believe her father could have been involved in a massacre such as the one Galien described at Dennochbrook. But Reina was also becoming aware of how little she truly knew about the battles that took place outside Anbarth’s walls. Of course she’d heard rumors. And when her father’s men engaged in them, she understood well the consequences of this fight between her king and the Scots.

But truly, she did not know.

That her mother did not actually give birth to her had never mattered before. Loved, protected, Reina was their daughter in all the ways that mattered. And yet, even before meeting Galien, she’d suspected there was more to the story they told her. And if she was indeed the babe of Dennochbrook? Reina pushed the thought from her mind, unable to face the implications of it. For so many years she was a baron’s daughter, betrothed to become a wife. And then, she’d learned the art of healing which felt right but still was frowned upon.

Who am I, then?

Standing from the bed, she picked up the bit of cloth left for her next to a bowl of rosewater. Using it to clean herself, Reina’s mind wandered to him. To what had nearly happened before his cousin reappeared. What she desperately wanted to happen.

Reina had dutifully considered her future all her life. Following the rules, staying within Anbarth’s confines, prepared to marry Lord Hurste despite that he was nearly twice her age and the very opposite of handsome. He fought valiantly for his king, was an honorable man according to her father. That had been enough for her.

Now, she was not certain at all it would be. Not after meeting Galien.

Each day they spent together was another for her to learn of his bravery and loyalty. He was so loyal, in fact, she was certain it would get him killed. And the way he looked at her. . . she’d wanted him to kiss her. Was it a reckless thought? Aye, but after what she’d done in freeing him, a simple kiss felt as if it were a single raindrop to the storm she’d unleashed.

How had she arrived here at a smuggler’s inn? Reina could blame only herself. Even still, she would do it again. Whatever the consequences, she could take comfort in knowing she had done all she could to discover the truth.

Replacing the cloth, Reina moved toward the bed, the single candle with enough wax to last much of the night, and pulled back the coverlet. A sturdy bed, if functional rather than luxurious. Sitting, she thought of the inn. Galien had fashioned her a bedroll and even a pillow of leaves. What she found uncomfortable was not the hard ground, or even the eerie silence of sleeping in the woods. She’d felt safe enough with Galien near.

But that was precisely the source of her discomfort.

The knock, so unexpected after Galien told her not to open the door until morn when he returned, made her jump. Reina stood and, glancing down at the sole candle in her chamber, moved toward the door. This time, the knock was even louder. And followed by a voice she knew well.

Relaxing, Reina opened it to find Galien on the other side.

“Tell me to leave,” he said. “I should not be here.”

Reina wanted nothing more than for him to touch her, so nay, she’d be doing nothing of the sort.

As Galien entered the room, he closed the door behind him. Reina hardly moved as he locked it and then turned back toward her.

“I am sorry, lass,” he said just before his hand shot out and pulled her to him. Leaning down to her, Galien’s lips met hers. She’d barely had time to recover from the shock of them when he growled, “Open for me, Reina.”

And she did. Without really knowing what to do next. If she thought Galien’s lips shocking, what he did next was more so. His tongue touched hers. Neither hesitant nor uncertain, emboldening her to be the same. It took hardly any time at all for her to understand the rhythm of their kiss. To participate fully. To relax against his arms as they encircled her. Cocooned her.

She tilted her head upwards, giving Galien better access and being rewarded for it as he continued to kiss her more deeply than Reina thought possible. This was a kiss? Reina never dreamed it would feel so good. Having been betrothed all her life, and never with the opportunity to be alone with her intended—not that she wished for it—Reina had been kissed precisely never.

Utterly unprepared for his hands to cup her cheeks, Reina all but melted against this man who was supposed to be her enemy. Galien was anything but, and she had known it almost from the start. This time, trusting her own instincts had not led her astray. He’d never hurt her. The way he revered her even now was evidence of it.