The Knight's Broken Promise. Nicole Locke

could hardly argue with her on where the children would be safe. It wasn’t as if he could take her back to the English camp, even if she and the children wanted to. The distance to her brother’s land might be dangerous, but he knew of no other place for them, far or near. Still, he repeated himself.

      ‘You’ll never make it.’

      She stepped closer to him, until she was right under his nose, and punched him in the chest. ‘Oh, aye, we will and you’re going to help.’

       Chapter Eight

      All sound was suddenly suctioned out of the air. No, that wasn’t right, because she heard the sound of a bee buzzing past them, the rustle of the wind through the grass. It was just Robert who was quiet.

      His eyes never wavered from her; his arms hung almost unnaturally by his sides. Had he heard her?

      ‘No...’ he breathed.

      She clamped down on her quick anger. He had heard her. And his unwillingness shouldn’t have surprised her. ‘Aye, you are. Why did you come if not to do something for a village your fellow soldiers massacred?’

      He didn’t say anything. She took a step away from him. Guilt for his country wasn’t motivating him. She would have to try another tactic.

      ‘The children aren’t safe. They must get to my brothers to receive the care they need. You’re right, we’ll never make it alone. But with your help, your supplies, your horse, we will.’

      He still said nothing.

      Her anger was quickly drowning in her panic. What if he didn’t help? Could this man, could any man, really just walk away?

      ‘Where are your feelings?’ she accused.

      Something moved in his eyes, a dark shadow that left a strange ache in her chest. She suddenly wanted to soothe him and that didn’t make any sense.

      She pressed her fingers under her eyes. It could not be his feelings, but her own making her heart ache. It had to be. He had no feelings, while she was rapidly losing control of hers—losing control of her pride, too. But she’d gladly beg if it would get him to move.

      ‘You inding shirrow weevil, can’t you see I wouldn’t ask if I dinna have to? You’re our only hope!’

      To think she had been glad when he arrived. He had barely helped her before and now he wasn’t even answering her request.

      ‘Auntie Gaira! I saved you some rabbit!’

      Alec, his wild hair flying behind him, bounded towards her. Her heart lifted at the sight of his skips and jumps. Despite everything, children were resilient. And in that, she knew they’d make it. If only the children had a chance.

      Stepping away from Robert, she crouched in readiness for Alec to join her. It was so natural, so easy. And there was her answer. They did have a chance. They had her. And with that, she stopped her doubting. Feeling as wild as his hair, she grabbed Alec’s loose hand. Alec squealed and tried to get away.

      ‘Oh, you saved me some rabbit, did you? Is this the rabbit you saved me? It looks so succulent.’

      ‘Nae, not me, Auntie Gaira. I’m not the rabbit!’

      She poked at him, pretending she was testing his fatness. ‘Oh, you’re a tasty morsel, you are.’

      She 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