But what if he could? What if she could persuade him to turn once more? It could be an answer to her problems. But she did not delude herself: it wasn’t going to be easy. She didn’t just have to convince Alex, she also had to convince her brethren.

“You are certain of that?” Joan said.

“I am,” Alex said. It was the one thing he was sure about.

Why was she asking him all these questions? Christ, this was the last thing Alex wanted to talk about. Not only did it border on treason, but what good would it do to tear himself up all over again? He’d known when he’d ridden away two years ago that there would be no going back—and seeing his former Highland Guard brethren again had solidified it. But he sounded defensive and knew it. How could he make her understand when he wasn’t sure he understood himself anymore?

Her eyes were big, wide, and impossibly blue as she stared up at him. “And if the end of the war means Bruce’s defeat? That doesn’t matter to you? Did your differences with how the war was being fought make you lose your faith in Bruce as king?”

He eyed her sharply. It was a strange thing to ask coming from someone loyal to the English. And it was the one question he didn’t want to—couldn’t—answer. It did matter to him. More than he wanted to admit. He’d never stop believing in Bruce as a man or as king. But the cost had seemed too high. The way Bruce was fighting the war could go on forever—and that he couldn’t accept.

“I lost faith that Bruce would ever take the field to lose or win, and the alternative was famine, burned-out villages, stolen cattle and grain, misery for the people who count on me to protect them, and little girls playing with kittens in a barn who get caught in the flames.” He stood up and held out his hand. “We should go.”

She looked over to where the queen and the rest of the entourage were readying to leave, as surprised as he that the hunt had finished already. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this,” he said, cutting her off. “It serves no purpose and could be misunderstood if overheard.” He gave her a long look. “Why are you so interested? I thought you were content in England.”

“I am,” she said quickly. A light pink flush filled her cheeks. “I am curious, that’s all. I want to know more about you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” But he was—more than he wanted to admit. Her questions had struck old wounds that were more raw than he realized. He suspected they might never fully heal. “It’s just . . .” How could he explain?