play, but then again…
Nay. None of the women would really hurt Kit.
As soon as they were alone, Stryder washed his face and chest in the wash basin, then toweled himself dry.
“How is it after all we have been through together that I never even knew you had a brother?” Christian asked as Stryder draped the towel over his shoulder and moved forward to pour himself a goblet of wine.
Stryder squelched the pain that innocent question conjured. Though he had shared much of his life with Christian, there were many things he had not shared with anyone. Things he would never share with anyone. “We are half brothers who grew up apart.”
“Ah,” Christian said as he watched his friend take a seat across from him.
Stryder looked tired. His blue eyes were troubled, but then Stryder had never been light of heart. His friend, much like him, had always been overly earnest.
Simon of Ravenswood used to refer to them as the Doomsday Duo. But then they had all seen far too much of the darker side of man’s cruelty.
It had a way of robbing them of their optimism.
“Have you seen the Scot lately?” Stryder asked.
“It will be a year ago September.”
“How does he?”
Christian sighed as he remembered their companion who had chosen to hide himself in the country ofEngland as opposed to going home to his family in Scotland. “Same as before. He is reclusive and refuses to let any see his face. He barely spoke to me while I was there.”
Stryder looked away, his brow even more troubled. Christian knew he blamed himself for what had happened to the Scot during their captivity. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Christian referred to the incident when one of their group had tried to escape. Barely ten-and-six in age, the boy’s escape route had been discovered before any of them had had a chance to use it.
When the Saracens came for one of them to punish for it, the Scot had stepped forward to take the blame, knowing the one responsible would never have survived the punishment.
Their captors had tortured the Scot for a full fortnight. When he was returned to their cell, his eye had been taken and the man had been left horribly scarred.
The Scot had never been the same, and Stryder blamed himself to this day for not taking the blame himself.
“You can’t carry the ills for the entire world, Stryder. Some things are just meant to be.”
Stryder took a deep draught of wine, but said nothing.
He didn’t have to. The two of them had known each other so long that Christian knew what was on his mind.
What they did was hard and never ending. They had more commitments than they could meet andboth of them felt responsible for every member of their guard.
Theirs was a lonely life.
Aye, they could have any wench who took their fancy, maiden or experienced, but then what?
Neither of them needed or wanted the burden of a wife who would demand even more of their precious time.
Christian had the burden of a kingdom waiting one day to claim him, but Stryder…He had demons who commanded him. Demons that wouldn’t give him peace.
Ever.
Christian only hoped that in the end, they wouldn’t drive his friend mad the way they had driven Stryder’s father insane.
It was well known by all that Geoffrey of Blackmoor had died by his own hand.
But not before he had tried to kill his own son.
Chapter 2
“Y ou should have been there, Rowena.”
Rowena de Vitry plastered a patient smileon her face as her lady-in-waiting, Elizabeth, rambled on while their maids prepared their hair and veils for the coming supper. They each sat on wooden chairs before an open window.
“Lord Stryder just popped out of his tent as we headed for the castle. Barely three feet away from us, he hardly had a stitch on.” Elizabeth sighed dreamily as she propped her elbow on the dressing table and stared into space.
Rowena did her best not to roll her eyes at her friend’s adolescent behavior. She held little doubt that if left alone, Elizabeth would
Nay. None of the women would really hurt Kit.
As soon as they were alone, Stryder washed his face and chest in the wash basin, then toweled himself dry.
“How is it after all we have been through together that I never even knew you had a brother?” Christian asked as Stryder draped the towel over his shoulder and moved forward to pour himself a goblet of wine.
Stryder squelched the pain that innocent question conjured. Though he had shared much of his life with Christian, there were many things he had not shared with anyone. Things he would never share with anyone. “We are half brothers who grew up apart.”
“Ah,” Christian said as he watched his friend take a seat across from him.
Stryder looked tired. His blue eyes were troubled, but then Stryder had never been light of heart. His friend, much like him, had always been overly earnest.
Simon of Ravenswood used to refer to them as the Doomsday Duo. But then they had all seen far too much of the darker side of man’s cruelty.
It had a way of robbing them of their optimism.
“Have you seen the Scot lately?” Stryder asked.
“It will be a year ago September.”
“How does he?”
Christian sighed as he remembered their companion who had chosen to hide himself in the country ofEngland as opposed to going home to his family in Scotland. “Same as before. He is reclusive and refuses to let any see his face. He barely spoke to me while I was there.”
Stryder looked away, his brow even more troubled. Christian knew he blamed himself for what had happened to the Scot during their captivity. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Christian referred to the incident when one of their group had tried to escape. Barely ten-and-six in age, the boy’s escape route had been discovered before any of them had had a chance to use it.
When the Saracens came for one of them to punish for it, the Scot had stepped forward to take the blame, knowing the one responsible would never have survived the punishment.
Their captors had tortured the Scot for a full fortnight. When he was returned to their cell, his eye had been taken and the man had been left horribly scarred.
The Scot had never been the same, and Stryder blamed himself to this day for not taking the blame himself.
“You can’t carry the ills for the entire world, Stryder. Some things are just meant to be.”
Stryder took a deep draught of wine, but said nothing.
He didn’t have to. The two of them had known each other so long that Christian knew what was on his mind.
What they did was hard and never ending. They had more commitments than they could meet andboth of them felt responsible for every member of their guard.
Theirs was a lonely life.
Aye, they could have any wench who took their fancy, maiden or experienced, but then what?
Neither of them needed or wanted the burden of a wife who would demand even more of their precious time.
Christian had the burden of a kingdom waiting one day to claim him, but Stryder…He had demons who commanded him. Demons that wouldn’t give him peace.
Ever.
Christian only hoped that in the end, they wouldn’t drive his friend mad the way they had driven Stryder’s father insane.
It was well known by all that Geoffrey of Blackmoor had died by his own hand.
But not before he had tried to kill his own son.
Chapter 2
“Y ou should have been there, Rowena.”
Rowena de Vitry plastered a patient smileon her face as her lady-in-waiting, Elizabeth, rambled on while their maids prepared their hair and veils for the coming supper. They each sat on wooden chairs before an open window.
“Lord Stryder just popped out of his tent as we headed for the castle. Barely three feet away from us, he hardly had a stitch on.” Elizabeth sighed dreamily as she propped her elbow on the dressing table and stared into space.
Rowena did her best not to roll her eyes at her friend’s adolescent behavior. She held little doubt that if left alone, Elizabeth would
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