Return of the Border Warrior. Blythe Gifford

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СКАЧАТЬ badge will let you lord it over the rest of us.’

      John winced. ‘I’ve never thought that.’

      Rob smiled. ‘Have you not?’

      John sat back, suddenly wondering. Why else had he returned?

      He had ridden home wearing the king’s badge, carrying the king’s word, expecting finally to garner his father’s respect. Or at least his attention.

      Instead, he was Johnnie Blunkit again. Or worse. An outlander, no more part of the family than a Storwick.

      But John had seen that outland, seen a life beyond these hills. ‘I know what the king plans. Scotland will face England as an equal.’

      ‘You think he’ll defy his Uncle Henry? He’s the one who’s been stirring the families across the border.’

      It was true. The king’s uncle, the English King Henry, eighth by that name, was using the reiving families of England to keep the Scots occupied. ‘Because he has no respect for us.’

      ‘No. Because he does respect us. He respects our swords.’ Rob leaned forwards. ‘And I mean to be sure we keep that respect.’

      John gripped his fists in frustration. ‘It’s been two years since Gilnock’s death. Why is it so important to avenge him now?’

      ‘Because now, I’m the head man.’

      Pride, stubbornness—everything he knew of his brother was in those words.

      He felt his voice rise, ready to shout. ‘I need to know why.’

      Rob gave a snort. ‘If you’d not abandoned your family these last ten years, you would know.’

      ‘If my family had not abandoned me, I would care,’ he snapped.

      Rob blinked.

      John pressed on. ‘Two years and Father didn’t hunt the man down. Didn’t you ever wonder at the reason? Didn’t you ever think he was trying to avoid a blood feud?’

      ‘And you think to force us to ride where the king bids us instead? The last time we did that, ten thousand Scotsmen lay dead on Flodden Field, along with the foolish king himself. That’s a mistake we won’t be making again.’ Rob pressed his palms flat on the table and rose, done with listening. ‘Your king can wait for Brunson men. We ride after Willie Storwick within a fortnight.’

      He cursed himself for a fool. Instead of easing Rob’s decision, he’d forced it. ‘And join the king after?’ If they found the man quickly, they could still meet the king in East Lothian by early October, though John would have to soothe his sovereign’s temper when he discovered they’d taken vengeance against an English Storwick.

      ‘I’ve not decided.’ Rob’s lips curved, less in a smile than in a sneer.

      Not a defeat, then. Rob had not said no.

      ‘Ride with us, Johnnie. That is, if you’re not a fazart.’

      Fazart. The worst kind of coward.

      John stood now, shaking his head. It wasn’t death that he feared. ‘I will not join you in vengeance. Not when I promised the king I would stop it.’

      Rob, who rarely smiled, did. ‘Ah, and promises must be kept, eh?’

      A rueful smile touched John’s lips and, for a moment, they shared it. ‘Perhaps I’ve a drop of Brunson blood after all.’

      ‘What happens,’ Rob said, finally, ‘if you can’t keep it, your promise to the king?’

      He had not faced that unpleasant prospect before. ‘If I’m a careful and lucky man, I’ll never lay eyes on King James again.’

      ‘And if you’re not?’

      John liked the king and the king liked him, but he did not fool himself. Friendship and sentiment did not rule a king, not even this one. He’d cut down any enemies who stood in his way.

      And any friends, as well.

      ‘If not, my happy life could be a short one.’ That was the fact of it. Now Rob knew.

      John wondered whether he’d care.

      His brother crossed his arms and shook his head. ‘Then I can only wish you luck, Johnnie. And that you enjoy it while you can.’

      Chapter Five

      The nightmare visited her again, carried on the scent of heather.

      Cate sat up, struggling against him, feeling the scream rattle in her throat, ready to escape. Just in time, she opened her eyes to find Belde nuzzling her side, as if he had tried to wake her.

      Next to her, Bessie slept like one dead. Cate released a sigh, grateful, and slipped out of bed. She would not be able to close her eyes again this night.

      She wrapped herself in a length of plaide and crept quietly down the stairs. Belde trailed her. Even in the dark, with most abed, there were few places to be alone. Someone would be awake on the tower’s parapet. Another guard would walk the wall. The hall would be full of snoring men. But she had prowled the tower at night often enough to find a perch at the curve of the stairs where there was a hole in the wall for a lookout. There, she could sit, watching the hills, to be sure no one was coming.

      As she approached it, she heard steps coming towards her. She had not brought a candle, needing no light to find her way, but this was not a footfall she recognised.

      She gripped the dirk that was ever by her side, comforted by Belde, who was right behind her, but did not growl. Was it someone the dog knew? She slowed her steps.

      Stopped.

      He did the same.

      She took a step.

      So did he.

      Her heart beat fast and the blood in her ears almost drowned the sound. Was someone beyond the curve of the stair? Ready to take her again?

      No. She would not let that happen. She would run him through first.

      She held out the dirk and rushed down the stairs, blade poised to hit a man in the belly.

      But just before she reached him, a hand grasped her wrist, tight as a manacle, and jerked her arm up, pulling her closer. ‘What the hell are you doing, Cate?’

      Her body still carried the dream’s fear. It took two breaths, three, before she recognised John Brunson. And then, pressed against him, his lips close to her cheek, she felt something she had never thought to feel for a man.

      Desire.

      The dog pushed himself between them, sniffing John in greeting. ‘Traitor,’ she muttered.

      John let her go quickly, and she pulled away, back against the wall, still clinging to her dirk.

      Holding СКАЧАТЬ