She must have understood his meaning if not the words, because she gave him a frantic nod and scurried off into the trees.

Even before he looked up, Alex felt a chill of premonition as the men who’d surrounded him emerged from the darkness. The hand reaching over his back for his sword stilled.

Damn it, it couldn’t be.

But it was.

The blood drained from his body in a violent rush. He muttered a harsh curse, recognizing the familiar blackened nasal helms, soot-stained faces, black leather studded cotuns, and dark plaids.

Hell, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.

His hand dropped to his side. After fighting alongside these men for seven years, he knew better. He was good, but single-handedly defeating nine warriors of the Highland Guard was beyond any one man’s skills.

Alex had always known he might pay with his life one day for what he’d done, he just hadn’t anticipated it being so soon.

A familiar voice broke through the silence. “I see you are still polishing that shiny armor of yours, Sir Alex.”

Chapter 2

2

ALEX BRACED HIMSELF for the condemnation and hatred, as he turned to face one of the most feared men in England, his former partner and hate-everything-English, Robbie Boyd.

But nothing could have prepared him for the stab of guilt that plunged through his gut when he saw the look of betrayal in the eyes of the man whose friendship and respect he’d struggled for so long to earn. At times Alex thought he had, and at others, it felt like all he was doing was banging his head against that wall.

You did what you had to do. He never trusted you anyway. You were never really a part of them. But the guilt coiling in his chest didn’t seem to think that was enough.

“You didn’t get enough of rescuing fair maids in Scotland, so you had to stab us in the back and go to England instead?” Boyd said.

Alex flinched. Though he’d anticipated the blow, it didn’t make it any easier to withstand.

He didn’t miss the emphasis—or the sarcasm. Boyd’s wife was known as “The Fair Rosalin” after her illustrious ancestor “The Fair” Rosemund Clifford. When Alex had still been with the Guard, Rosalin had been taken hostage after a retaliatory raid in Norham to secure her brother’s agreement to a truce. To say that Alex had clashed with Boyd over the taking of the hostages (Rosalin’s nephew had been taken as well, although the boy had managed to escape) was putting it mildly.

Making war on women and youths was bad enough, but when Alex guessed that Boyd had taken Rosalin to his bed, the dishonor done to her while in their care had seemed the final blow.