She didn’t reply, but then she didn’t need to. The seed had been sown.
If they came upon Drake again, William anticipated the conversation between brother and sister might go differently, and that Kinsey may persuade her brother to join them.
Having the detailed knowledge of someone who worked for the English would give William and his army a great advantage. And what could it hurt if it also helped a man finally achieve his dream?
* * *
Kinsey had been grateful for William’s company. Fib’s loss had been felt in the oppressive silence of the journey and made her heart ache more than she could bear. What was more, she couldn’t get the idea of Drake becoming a Scottish knight out of her head. Not after William rode ahead to plan out their stop with Duff nor when they made camp on the outskirts of a village just over the Scottish border. She saw to her horse and mulled over what Sir William had suggested.
If Drake helped them take back English land, he could finally have his dream. Her heart swelled at the thought.
She couldn’t remember her father. She’d been too young when he had died. But she did remember how Drake had worked so hard to ensure they didn’t starve. How he’d been younger than even Fib when he first joined the reivers. Kinsey knew what he did was brave but hadn’t fully appreciated the danger.
Not until now.
He had sacrificed everything to ensure their safety and comfort. Even his morals in running with reivers. And now, when his work turned to the English, who had caused them so much pain over the years. All to ensure his family could live.
But what if he didn’t have to?
What if he worked with Scotland instead?
She wished she could go back to that conversation they’d had at the tavern. That she could offer him the opportunity to join them, instead of returning to Werrick Castle.
Sir William approached as she finished feeding and watering her horse. “We’re going to the tavern for ale and a hot meal. Do ye want to join us?”
Kinsey considered the offer. She didn’t much care for taverns and all the drunk men inside.
As if sensing her hesitation, Sir William nodded toward Duff. “Otherwise, ye’ll be left with whatever he cooks up on the fire.” He grimaced.
Kinsey had to laugh at that. The night before had been a strange concoction of various plants Duff had found in the forest and cooked alongside roasted rabbit. The rabbit was good, tender meat and crisped skin. The forest plants, however, tasted exactly what one would expect forest plants to taste like. Dirt and disappointment.
She made a face. “Aye, I’ll come.”
William grinned, and her heart gave a funny little flip.
God help her if his charm was finally beginning to take effect.
They joined a group of William’s men and walked the short distance to the tavern. It was as the other had been, dank and dingy, the air thick with tallow smoke and the pungent, undeniable odor of unwashed bodies. There were a few patrons within, but their party filled the place.
The serving wenches immediately made their way to Sir William, fluttering their lashes and plumping their bosoms. It hadn’t bothered Kinsey before, but now she found every tittering giggle made the muscles along the back of her neck tighten.
William flashed his handsome smile but didn’t flirt. Rather, his gaze kept creeping toward Kinsey, though, of course, she didn’t let on that she noticed.
The ale at the tavern was different from what her mother made. Different even than what they’d had on the road. Stronger, with a sharp, nutty aftertaste. She didn’t usually consume very much, but now found herself moving onto her third as her head began to spin.
The more she drank, the looser the band of tension around her chest became. Her thoughts had continued to swing back toward death for the better part of their journey. They had been put there by Fib’s absence, by the decreased number of their army with the others they had lost.
And the men she had killed.
Mayhap it was cowardly of her, but she was glad the English guards had been at a distance. She didn’t know if she could kill someone up close.
At the moment when she’d shot them, they had been targets, an opportunity to save one of her own.
But on the trail when she’d had too much time to think, she couldn’t help but wonder at the children they might have had, the wives waiting for them to return when they wouldn’t, the mothers whose sons were now dead. And Kinsey had been the one to rob them of their loved ones.
How many had she killed?
She combed through her recollection of the night and tried to count them, but it was impossible. Yet not knowing made it even worse.
“Kinsey?” William asked. “Are ye well?”
She straightened. “Aye, of course.”
She was with men who had seen battle before, who had killed before. And among them, she was the only woman. She refused to say what was in her heart lest she be seen as weak.
Sir William’s eyes lingered on her for just long enough to indicate he didn’t believe her, but nor did he press the issue. Beside her, Alec had consumed more ales than Kinsey had bothered counting.
“Did ye see our archer in the attack?” Alec flung his arm over her shoulders. “No’ only is she bonny, but her aim is perfect.”
Kinsey’s muscles were relaxed from the ale, and she didn’t bother to push her fellow soldier off as he hugged her with brotherly affection, bringing with him the smell of stale sweat and ale. Sir William’s eyes narrowed.
“I wager she could be the one to beat Sir William at throwing daggers finally,” Alec boasted.
Kinsey lifted her brows at Sir William. “Are ye good with daggers, then?”
A smile lifted the
