Was it because his former partner had violated every code of honor and decency by seducing a woman in their care? Because Boyd had been ready to retaliate for a raid he thought was ordered by Rosalin’s brother by burning down the castle she considered her home? Because Alex was tired of jumping out of trees and hiding in the dark, and wanted to fight knight to knight on a battlefield? Or because being a knight and living by certain codes actually meant something to him?

Was it because he couldn’t stand the sight of one more injustice done in the name of war—by either side—that he was supposed to ignore as the ends justifying the means? Because he was tired of seeing the people in the Borders—his people—suffer for the misfortune of where they lived? Because he’d held a child he’d nearly killed in his arms and felt something inside him break? Because he knew Bruce would not risk the pitched battle that would bring an end to the war when he could wage a war of attrition and prolong that decision indefinitely? Because Alex thought he could do more to help end the war on the other side by trying to make the English see the value of the bargaining table?

Or maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore—the war, the atrocities, the injustice, the constant disagreements with his partner, the feeling as if he was the lone voice of dissent.

Yes. That was the simple answer. It was all those things. But Boyd hadn’t wanted to hear it when they were friends—or partners, at least—why would he want to hear it now when they were enemies?

They’d always had different lines in the sand. Boyd was willing to do whatever it took; Alex wasn’t.

The two men faced off in the darkness, the tension palpable.

Why didn’t he just get it over with? Was this part of their torture? Did they want him to beg? He wouldn’t do it, damn it.

He couldn’t have been more shocked when Boyd moved to the side to let him pass.

“You are letting me go?” Alex asked.

“This time,” Boyd said. “Consider it repayment for what you did for my wife. You were right to defend her honor. I was wrong.”

Alex had thought he couldn’t be more shocked, but Boyd had just proved him wrong.

It sounded like an apology, and coming from Boyd, that would have been a first. But if Alex might have harbored an instant of wondering whether it might have been an opening, the door was quickly closed.

“But the next time we meet across the battlefield, Sir Alex, you will not be so lucky.”

Boyd always did have a way of making his temper flare, and Alex couldn’t resist responding, “Perhaps it is you who will not be so lucky, Sir Robert.”