Page 31 of Kilty as Sin
‘Twould be fooking idiotic, consideringye’rethe dobber causing it!
If falling on his sword could ease her misery, he’d do it.
Aye, yer heart is most definitely involved, ye puir bastard.
Since she was still looking up at him, her jaw mulishly set, and since he’d been gaping at her like a fish, Barclay forced himself to focus. He nodded.
“Aye, lass. Yedodeserve happiness.”And pleasure, even if I cannae be the man to give it to ye.“My obligation to my King ends when ye are back with yer father, and whatever yer plans after that…” He swallowed, and made himself grin, although he suspected ‘twas far from his usual charm. “I wish ye well.”
St. Pancras help him, he sounded so dishonorable! Dragging her back to face her fear, then saying she was on her own!
But to his surprise—and really, he shouldn’t be surprised that anything she did surprised him, not when he was becoming used to her surprises!
Wait, what had he been thinking?
Dinnae ask me, I got confused around the secondsurpriseback there.
Och, aye. To his surprise, his words hadn’t seemed to hurt her. Instead, if anything…she seemed relieved?
Grace’s shoulders straightened, and her chin rose. “I ken ye have a duty, Barclay, but I would beg a favor.”
“Anything,” he vowed, even knowing how impossible ‘twould be to make such a promise.
With her hands folded demurely in front of her like that, she looked like a queen.Or a martyr going to her death.Och, dinnae be dramatic, marriage wasn’tthatbad.
“I want yer vow that, once ye have left me with my father, ye will go to the convent of St. Dorcas the Ever-Petulant.” She waited for his hesitant nod, before continuing. “I want ye to tell the Mother Superior that I have been returned to the MacDonalds, but I have nae intention of staying.”
“Grace, dinnae be rash—”
“I amno’being rash.” Her words whipped out, slapping his mouth closed. She was a woman used to being heard, and he loved it. He loved her power, her determination, all wrapped up in a delicate beauty he knew men underestimated. “I have considered this. I escaped once afore, and I will do it again. I willno’be married to a man who will do naught but hurt me until I am dead.”
Oh, Christ Almighty. “I dinnae want that either,” he rasped, light-headed at the thought.
“Good. Then ye’ll tell Sister Mary Titania about my plan?”
Barclay dragged the helmet in front of him, holding it as a shield. “Aye, Grace,” he reluctantly agreed. “I’ll tell her. Although if she cares aught for ye, she’ll no’ want ye in danger, either.”
Blue eyes narrowed. “Is that why ye dinnae want me in danger? Because ye care for me?”
How could she doubt it?
Because ye havenae let her see it. Ye’re no’ worthy of caring for her.
Tamping down the frustrated growl rising in his throat, Barclay swung the helmet up. The abrupt movement caused her to step back, but he slammed the helm atop his head with a finality that reminded him of his role in life.
His place inherlife.
Barclay was one of the King’s Hunters, first and foremost. He could never be aught more and didn’t deserve to wish for things he couldn’t have.
“We’re wasting time. Let’s get ye to yer father’s keep, Lady Grace.”
* * *
Despite having been raisedunder the close and watchful eye of her father and dozens of servants, Grace began to recognize the land as they approached her father’s holding. The loch beside which they’d camped last night stretched to her left, and the mountain in the distance had a familiar shape.
She was almost home.
“How much farther?” she asked dully, holding tightly to Barclay’s belt. She wasn’t certain if she did so to keep from falling from Mayo’s back…or to keep from throwing her arms around Barclay and begging he turn the horse around and ride to safety.
