The Knight's Broken Promise. Nicole Locke

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СКАЧАТЬ began to smack her lips and Alec screamed louder. His eyes widened with delight and mock fear.

      She could feel Robert watching her, but didn’t spare him a glance. Instead she tossed her plaits and pulled Alec behind her as they ran towards the camp.

      * * *

      The camp was quiet, except for the slight crackle of the fire and the few insects and nocturnal creatures that scattered and rustled the leaves and twigs around them.

      Gaira wrapped her arms tighter around her and watched as the fire’s flames dimmed. She could not sleep. Her thoughts wouldn’t let her alone. And they, just like the fire, dimmed and scattered in different directions.

      She thought of the children, now fast asleep, and how she was getting them to her clan. She thought of what was to become of them and her if they were caught by her betrothed.

      She thought of Robert, who hadn’t said a word since Alec had interrupted them. But she had been aware of him watching her, watching the children. Watching her.

      She had no idea what his thoughts were when she returned to camp and had played with Maisie, combed Flora’s hair and made sure Creighton ate enough rabbit to fill his growing body.

      She tried not to care about his thoughts as she cleaned up dinner, banked the fire and wrapped the children in her shawl to keep them warm in the night’s chill.

      She no longer felt frustrated at him or even hurt. She just felt confused. He acted and behaved like no man she had ever known.

      He had seemed almost angry at her asking. Not angry because her request was an inconvenience, but angry because her request had brought him pain. But instead of giving her reasons, he had watched her all evening.

      Even though he was on the other side of the fire, she still felt Robert watching her, which meant, he, too, was not asleep. That knowledge, probably more than anything, was why she still couldn’t get to sleep.

      Restless, she sat and began to unplait her hair. It had been cleaned before she had carefully plaited it, but the plaits pulled at her head and she wanted to be free from their confinement.

      She had not heard him move, but rather she felt him move. It was as if he had sat up, his watchful eyes now intent, focused.

      On her.

      Suddenly uncoordinated, she unwound her hair with uneven tugs until it was loose enough to comb.

      With trembling fingers she massaged her scalp to relieve the sharp prickles. But Robert was watching her and the prickles spread, tingled across her sensitive shoulders and lower through her body and legs.

      Shaking, she grabbed her comb. Raising it, she stroked the comb through her thick hair to unravel the coils.

      She heard Robert stand and move behind her. But he did not speak and neither did she.

      The air around her grew warm, thick, and her heart began to beat in an unfamiliar rhythm. She stroked the comb through her hair again, letting the teeth bite from her scalp through the ends and out.

      He inhaled sharply.

      For a moment, she held the comb suspended, then, lowering it, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry I woke you.’

      ‘I have questions.’

      His response was such a direct contrast to what she was feeling. She waited, but he didn’t say anything more and he didn’t return to his side of the fire.

      Unsure what else to do, she slid the comb through the rest of her hair, setting the coils free. But it wasn’t enough to loosen the tension and she massaged her scalp, fingering her way through the heavy curls. Her hair felt wilder somehow, her fingers noticing textures she’d never felt before. Just as she’d never felt a man’s gaze as she felt Robert’s gaze. Just as she’d never felt her breath quicken as if she’d burned herself and kept her hand in the fire nonetheless. She felt like her hair, freed but still coiled.

      ‘How did you find the children?’ Robert’s voice was hoarse, unfocused.

      Unbalanced, it took all her concentration to understand the question. He wanted to know about the children. Not this...unknown breathlessness.

      She could talk about the children. He had helped her bury the dead and hunt more food. Her breath returned to normal. He deserved some of the truth.

      ‘I arrived maybe only a few hours after the English left,’ she replied.

      He sat down beside her, his legs bent, his arms and hands hanging loosely between his knees. He was not touching or facing her, but it did not matter. She felt him beside her.

      ‘In my hurry down the hill, I hurt my ankle, but I still walked through the valley.’ She did not want to describe what she had seen. He had been to the valley, he knew what was there.

      ‘I heard Maisie before I saw her. She was in the last hut and under some torn blankets and an upturned chest. They were unwashed horse blankets. I guess the English dinna want to bother with them.’

      Even though she had not seen them, she had no doubt it was the English who had destroyed Doonhill. She clenched the comb and let the sharp points press into her palm.

      ‘I grabbed her, held her. She had been my only hope. There was nothing else...salvageable.’ She breathed in raggedly. ‘I went back up the hill to get my spooked horse. He was near a small copse of trees. By then my ankle hurt and I was grateful he had not gone any further.’

      ‘That was when I saw movement in the trees. I was scared—I knew the English had just left. But it was the children. Flora holding Alec’s hand and Creighton standing with his fists at his sides.’

      ‘You did not mention your kin.’

      She shoved the comb back into her satchel. ‘Aye, I was coming to visit my sister, Irvette, her husband and their daughter.’

      ‘Maisie,’ he said, no question in his voice. ‘Maisie is their daughter.’

      ‘Aye.’ There was no need to hide the truth.

      ‘You buried your sister and her husband.’

      She nodded. At night she had buried them and so many others. It was at night she had felt the heavy weight of both the living and the dead depending on her. Only then did she allow herself to feel her grief and her anger.

      ‘I couldn’t leave Irvette like that and I wouldn’t leave her husband, either.’

      ‘You stayed to bury the rest because of the children?’

      ‘Partly, but that’s not all.’ She tried to close out the vision of the night and her long trek down the hill, where the wind did not blow so hard and the moonlight obscured the remains of the village.

      ‘I have nightmares now. Not just because of what I saw, but—’ She stopped. It had been long, gruesome work moving the bodies to the garden. ‘I could hear the dead urging me to dig, you ken? I dug so hard the blisters on my hands broke, but the pain was sharp and dulled the ache in my ankle, allowing me to work faster.

      ‘Yet СКАЧАТЬ