Page 28 of Claimed
Least of all, Carr Broderick.
Drew swallowed, fighting a wave of nausea before wiping her fingers on the cloth that Aidan passed her.
There was little chance of Carr bothering her. He’d barely glanced her way all day.
Steeling herself, Drew looked across the fire at where he sat, talking to one of the other men. They were discussing the last stretch of the journey. One more day’s ride and they’d reach their destination.
At first glance, Carr seemed relaxed this evening, but when she looked closer, Drew saw that wasn’t the case. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth and furrowed his forehead. His broad shoulders—shoulders she’d clung to as he’d taken her up against that old oak—were rounded, betraying the unhappiness he hid from the world.
I’ve hurt him.
The knowledge made Drew feel even queasier. Over the years, after she’d been widowed, she’d spurned the attention of many men. Some had deserved it, and yet there had been one or two who hadn’t. Yet she’d barely cared at the time.
She did now.
Tell me ye don’t care.
Carr’s words from that morning mocked her. He’d now think her a cold, heartless bitch. But the truth of it was that she did care for him. Every time she remembered the hurt in his eyes when she’d rebuffed him, when she’d lied to his face, her belly twisted painfully.
“I think I shall get an early night,” she announced to the group, rising to her feet. “Since we have another long day ahead tomorrow.”
The rest of the party nodded or smiled, wishing her a good rest. All except Carr. He merely glanced up, his gaze resting upon her for the first time all evening.
And for a moment, they stared at each other.
The raw look in his eyes, the tension in that ruggedly handsome face, made Drew’s belly twist once more. The supper she’d eaten churned uneasily in her belly.
I’m sorry. The words whispered through the air between them, unsaid, and yet Drew felt them keenly. She’d never felt sorrier about anything in her life, and yet the stubborn core of resolve within her wouldn’t be shifted.
The idea that she’d run away with Carr Broderick—a man who’d served her family for years now—was ridiculous.
Drew tore her gaze from Carr’s and stepped away from the fire. She made her way back to her tent, to where someone—most likely Carr—had lit a brazier.
Vision blurring, Drew reached out and warmed her fingers over the low flames.
He’s always been so kind to me … even now.
And yet here she was, reminding herself that a match between them was impossible. They were too different, the gulf between them too wide.
It shouldn’t matter and yet it did.
A secret tryst in the dark was one thing, but riding off into the sunset with him was another. The very idea was ridiculous. Carr should realize that too. However, after their night together, he’d been seized by a recklessness that was entirely out of character.
He hadn’t been lying. All this time he’d been in love with her, and she’d been too blind to notice.
Drew squeezed her eyes shut. The lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow.
Looking back, she saw it now.
The way his gaze would linger upon her.
How he’d volunteered to become her personal guard and hadn’t been unhappy in the slightest that someone else would lead The Dunan Guard.
His loyalty to her, even as she lay in a fever, her body covered in plague boils. He’d barely left her side for days; when the other servants fled the broch for fear of catching the plague, Carr had remained.
And all the while she’d told herself it was because he’d sworn fealty to her family.
But he’d done it for love.
