done.”
Toran nodded slowly. Denying Dirk now would only start a fight. He could handle himself. If Dirk planned to take him out to the woods and do away with him, he could fight back and win. But hopefully he’d not have to.
“We’re leaving now.” There was no room to argue in Dirk’s tone. “Get into plain clothes.”
Rather than pick a fight, Toran relented. There was no easier way to get Dirk on his side than to let him think he was in charge, and Toran could damn well use some allies. He went back into the barracks and changed into buckskin trews and a clean linen léine, the same getup Dirk had been wearing. Nothing identifiable about him.
“Where are ye going?” Simon rasped.
“Dirk has requested I ride the perimeter.”
Simon sat up, shaking his head. “Nay. Not without me.”
Toran whirled on his cousin, just about to punch him on the jaw, which he deserved, when Archie’s voice called out. “Simon, Camdyn, let’s go.”
Simon rose slowly, his face only inches from Toran’s. “Ye’re getting off easy today, but ye’ll not be able to shake me so well next time.”
“Aye, because it’s me who runs things around here.”
Simon growled and shouldered past him, and again Toran had to use great restraint not to attack the bloody traitor from behind. His only consolation was that Archie could handle him.
Toran followed at a distance behind his kin to the bailey. Horses were already saddled for them when they arrived at the stable. Dirk swung up on his and nodded to Toran.
“We’re to go alone?”
“Aye.”
So it was to be an execution. Well, that was a bloody shame. But at a nod from Dirk, two lads handed Toran the weapons that he’d left in the barracks. That was odd. Why would Dirk arm him if he planned to kill him? Was he wrong about the purpose of this trip? Toran raised a brow as he strapped on his gear, and Dirk rolled his eyes.
“We’re at war,” Dirk was saying. “Why the hell were ye walking around without your weapons?”
“I was taking a piss,” he lied. He’d left them behind on purpose before, afraid they’d make too much noise as he was sneaking around.
Dirk grunted. “Dinna flatter yourself that the piddly worm between your legs doubles as a sword.”
Toran grinned. “Facts are facts.”
“Ye wish.”
“I’m happy to provide references.”
Dirk groaned and urged his horse forward. “Ye’re a bastard.”
“I’m glad we’re friends,” Toran taunted back.
“Go to hell.”
“Will ye be there?” Toran urged his mount to follow, suddenly looking forward to a day of mockery with Dirk. The man was intense and obviously cared a lot about his cousin, his people, and the cause.
Did Dirk care a little too much for Jenny?
Toran couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about the previous night when he’d been so close to kissing her, close to taking her to bed. That had been a moment that couldn’t repeat itself. He’d come here for two reasons—to keep his siblings safe and to get answers.
Perhaps this ride with Dirk could lead him closer to his goals.
They crossed over the moors in silence until Toran finally broke the quiet. “Have ye lost many in the rebellion?”
Dirk was quick to respond with, “Have ye?”
“Aye.”
“We all have. What kind of bloody question is that?”
Toran just came out and said it. “My mother was killed by people she trusted. Torn apart after they’d all used her.” His words were crude, but he spoke the brutal truth.
Dirk swiveled his head toward him, a look of shocked anguish on his hard features. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Toran narrowed his eyes, surprised at Dirk’s reaction. “Her death could have been avoided.”
“Dinna blame yourself, man. ’Tis the fault of those bloody Sassenachs and the reason we’re not giving up.”
Toran gritted his teeth at the man assuming Toran blamed himself or the English—though it was partly true. He’d wished he could have been there to save her a thousand times over. Dirk stopped and jumped down from his horse, squatting over the road and touching hoofprints.
“They look fresh,” Toran said.
“Aye.”
“Only a single rider.”
Dirk nodded.
“I saw a woman sneak into the castle this morning. I didna recognize her.”
Dirk didn’t look at him, though the muscle in his jaw tightened. “Dinna concern yourself with her.”
“Who is she? I dinna believe the ballocks the guards gave me about a Green Lady.”
Dirk did look at him then, meeting his gaze with a stern stare. “Ye saw no one. And ye’d do best to remember that.”
Toran nodded. “If she rides alone,