“The men are too sotted to notice.” He glanced around at the men by way of confirming what he’d said.
Duff swayed beside Kinsey, while several others all spoke at once, their words slurred and their faces ruddy with drink.
He was right. They wouldn’t notice if she stayed any more than they would notice who she had left with.
She nodded.
Sir William didn’t offer a cocky reply or bother with any other form of arrogance. He simply stood and offered her his arm, his expression earnest.
The streets of Edinburgh were crowded with the sort who emerged only at night. Those seeking entertainment, those willing to provide it—in all its forms—and those whose intentions were doubtless nefarious.
Regardless, the night was quiet and cool, a soothing balm to her ragged nerves. And a refreshing contrast from the crowded, overly lit feast that buzzed with noise and blazed with the heat of too many people.
William walked her into the inn, then up the stairs to the rooms, stopping when they arrived at the door before her chamber. The reminder of the bloody tub shot forefront to her mind once more, the water clouded red and her stained clothing balled up beside it.
She didn’t want to go inside and face the metallic odor of death.
“Kinsey.”
She started at Sir William’s voice and looked up into his concerned gaze.
“Would ye rather go downstairs and have an ale first?” he asked.
The thought of being surrounded by people once more made her chest constrict. She shook her head vigorously.
“We could find a quiet corner,” he suggested.
There would still be too many people. She wanted quiet. Peace. Would there ever be peace with that tub of soiled water?
“There’s blood in my room.” She said it so abruptly that she surprised even herself. “I—in the tub. And on my clothes.” Bile rose in her throat.
He put his hand to the handle of the door. “May I?”
She gave a terse nod.
He opened the door, went in and quickly shut it before she could see within. Her breath remained locked in her lungs as she waited, her nerves strung tautly. Several minutes later, he opened the door again. “’Tis fine.”
She peered inside where a fire had recently been lit, its smoky scent overwhelming the odor of blood. The tub and her clothing were gone. She blinked in wonder and looked at him.
“It wasna me.” He indicated the cleared space. “The maids saw to it.”
All at once, Kinsey felt like a complete and utter fool for her fears.
“Thank ye,” she said. “For opening the door to check. And lighting the fire. Ye must think me daft.”
“Nay.” He put his hands to her shoulders gently. “Nay. Raids are…difficult. I dinna like them.”
“Ye said as much earlier.” She studied his handsome face. “Why did ye do it?”
He scoffed. “Our king commanded it of my men and me. I canna decline the king.” He struck a bit of flint together and lit a candle by the bed. “I should go.”
Her pulse kicked up with a panicked flutter. “Please don’t.” Her forced smile was tight. She was being ridiculous. “Stay. For just a moment.” She searched his eyes, silently imploring him. “Please.”
He studied her in quiet consideration, then nodded and shut the door.
She stared hard at the ground before squeezing her eyes closed. “I’d never killed a man before joining ye. It was different at Mabrick Castle when they were far away. But today…”
“I know,” he said gently.
She blinked her eyes open and found him opening his arms to her. He didn’t come to her, but rather remained in place so that she could accept his offer if she wished.
Without another thought, she rushed into his embrace, and finally yielded to the strength she’d spent the night craving.
12
William held Kinsey as she clung to him. She didn’t cry as most women assuredly would have, but he sensed her drawing comfort nonetheless, by the way that her fingers dug into his tunic.
Guilt gnawed at him.
He’d been so preoccupied with finding a good archer to provide him with an upper hand in battle that he hadn’t put enough consideration into Kinsey. Aye, he’d wanted her as a man longed for a woman and as a commander needed an archer, but he’d never thought how she might be affected by the killing.
What she had been forced to do for him had shattered something innocent inside her, a piece she would never be able to get back.
She released him and leaned back to look up at him, her gaze sheepishly settling to where her palms rested on his chest still. “Ye must think I’m terribly weak.”
He shook his head. “I know how strong ye are. I shouldna have asked ye to join us. I shouldna have exposed ye to war.”
Her jaw clenched. “I can handle it.”
“I know ye can.” He put his hand over hers where it lay against his chest. “But do ye want to?”
She watched him silently.
“I was so stunned after the first man I killed that I was almost slain myself,” he admitted.
She tilted her head at him, and firelight glinted off her glossy red curls. “Ye were?”
“Aye.” He allowed himself to recall that awful day on the battlefield, the one he’d pushed away every time it nudged at his conscience. “I ran him through the chest with my sword. I remember every detail about him.”
The gurgle in his chest, the dribbles of blood from his lips that had stained his gray mustache. The way his brown eyes had widened in surprise as if asking how such a thing might have happened.
“I was so taken aback that I was frozen in place.” William shrugged. The simple action indicated the memory didn’t matter when they both knew it did. “One of the MacDonalds came up behind me, intending to smash my skull in with a hammer.”
Kinsey’s brows tensed. “What happened?”
“Reid was there beside me. He killed the man, which brought me back to my senses.” A profound sense of gratitude washed over William as he thought about his
