He didn’t. He exploded again. “You came in with some of the women from town? You mean some of the whores who make their rounds in the barracks?” He raked his fingers through his hair. This was just getting worse and worse. “And what if one of the men was ‘interested’?”

“I just pretended to be with the women to get through the gate, and I have men waiting for me nearby.”

Alex made a sound that was more of a snort. “As if they would have been any good to you in here.”

“If you take me to them when I am done, they will see me safely back.”

He started to ask back to where, but stopped himself. She must have understood why. When their eyes met, he could see the sadness in the realization that they were on opposite sides now.

He nodded. He would be able to return her to Boyd’s men without too much of a detour from the route he would take with his men to Hailes.

“Now, tell me about this woman you are to marry. Do you love her?”

He winced, suspecting he was the one blushing now. “Christ, what a thing to ask, Rosalin.”

“You do!” she exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around him again. “Oh, Alex, I’m so happy for you. Does she love you? Of course, she must. You are one of the most wonderful men I know. The quintessential perfect, handsome knight. Sir Galahad to the rescue,” she said with a laugh.

Not her, too? Is that what everyone thought of him? Christ, how embarrassing. Not to mention untrue. It made him feel like some kind of fraud.

He extracted himself, uncomfortably going back to the question. Did he love her? He’d never put words on it, but aye, he did. And did she feel the same about him? He didn’t know. She liked him, which was enough for now. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was arranged by the families?”

“Not exactly.” More like it was arranged by him and ordered by the king.

She stared at him for a long time. “No . . . you didn’t?” She laughed, clapping her hands. “You did! I can’t believe it. Maybe not Sir Galahad after all.”

Now he was really uncomfortable. How the hell had she guessed? Did he have debaucher of innocents—he stopped, not letting himself think about that—branded on his forehead? “Let’s just say I have a little more sympathy for your husband.”