Page 3 of Marin’s Promise

The word of a reiver held as much honesty as a basket held water, but she had no choice.

“Then I cede Werrick Castle to you.” She infused her capitulation with all the force of her bitterness.

The cur grinned at her, a flash of brilliant white teeth beneath his dark beard.

Cat sobbed, a gut-wrenching cry.

Marin spun about to her younger sister. “Are you injured?”

“You should have let them kill me,” Cat cried.

Was there blood? An injury Marin could not see?

She cupped her hands around her sister’s face, turning her this way and that. Aside from wide eyed terror and the moisture of shed tears, Cat appeared otherwise unharmed. Even the blade to her slender throat had not left so much as a mark. Thanks be to God for such a gift.

“I could never let anyone kill you, Catriona. I love you too much.” Marin's voice caught.

Our of the corner of her eye, Marin noted the dark-haired reiver’s approach.

She released Cat and shifted to put herself between Cat and the fiend. In no way would Marin allow her sister to become this man’s victim once more.

“I'll have supper for my men.” He gestured behind him. “And lodging for our horses.”

“You wish me to treat you as though you are guests?” she asked incredulously. It was nearly an hour until supper. How could there possibly be time to accommodate so many men?

“This is my castle.” He cocked his head arrogantly. “And yer people are unharmed.”

Marin balled her hand into a fist within her skirt. “I will see to it.” She drew a deep breath to still her frantic pulse. “I wish to speak with you alone later, as well.”

The reiver's gaze dipped to her body. “Aye?”

Her cheeks flared with heat. “To discuss your intentions.”

He made an agreeable humming sound and strode forward, toward the keep. A black cat trotted from the stables and wound his way around the man’s feet. Fitting. Bixby always did have an affinity for rats.

Marin did not wish the little feline to be kicked by a man so brutal, and quickly stepped forward to shoo Bixby away. Before she could reach him, the reiver lifted the animal into his arms and scratched at the place Bixby liked best, right between his ears.

Very well. She would leave the rat-lover to the rat.

Marin put an arm around her sister’s shoulders to gently indicate they should follow. A splash of red on the skirt of Cat's pink cotehardie caught Marin's eye.

“Is that blood?” Marin pulled at Cat’s gown, fanning it out to reveal the spot. “Are you hurt?”

The reiver stopped and looked back at them.

“It's Eversham's blood.” Cat's lower lip trembled, but she bit it and held back the tears swimming in her large blue eyes. “He came out with me to ensure I stayed safe.” She stared down at the blood on her skirt. “He's…he's…” She sucked in a hard breath and her body began to shake.

Marin brushed Cat's hair from her pretty face. As often as she’d wished Cat's incessant chatter would cease, she realized now that was far preferable to seeing her younger sister rendered mute by fear and sorrow.

“Marin, it was my fault,” Cat whimpered.

“Aye, it was,” the reiver said.

Marin shot him a dark look. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Nay, it was my fault.” Cat shook her head miserably. “It was so lovely outside and I wanted to see if there were more of those yellow flowers Ella loves on the other side of the hill.” Cat turned her luminous gaze on Marin. “You said it was fine so long as I brought a soldier.”

“Then it was yer fault.” The reiver looked to Marin. “Marin.” He said her name as though he were testing it out, and Marin didn't like it anymore than she liked the implication of wrong doing on her part.