Remembering his role, however, he forced it aside. “Well, my lady, why don’t I help you back to your room so you can tend to that ankle.”

She looked alarmed. “I don’t want to trouble you. I’m sure I can make it on my own.”

“It’s no trouble, and I insist. It isn’t safe for you to be wandering the castle at night alone.” Which begged the question . . . “What were you doing in here anyway? I thought the ladies were in the new tower?”

She blushed, lowering her gaze again. Her long, delicate lashes rested on her cheeks like wisps of a silken raven’s wing. Christ, her skin was unreal. It was soft, powdery, and as flawless as freshly fallen snow.

“I don’t remember, my lord.”

He frowned. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “I sometimes walk in my sleep.”

Alex nodded with understanding. “My brother used to do that when he was a child.”

Her eyes widened; clearly she hadn’t expected that. “He did?”

“Aye. It terrified my mother the first few times it happened—she thought he would fall down the stairs or walk into the sea beyond the gate and drown himself. But John only seemed interested in visiting the kitchens.” He smiled at the memory. “He consumed an entire apple tart one night. I thought he was faking until I caught him myself.” John’s eyes had been open but eerily glazed over, and he’d acted as if Alex wasn’t there. “She had special locks put on his windows and doors, but it seemed to resolve itself after a few years.”

“He no longer does it?”

Alex shook his head; the wave of sadness that overtook him was not as sharp as it used to be, but it was still painful. “Both my brothers were executed eight years ago after the Battle of Methven. You have probably heard of Christopher.”

Everyone had heard of Sir Christopher Seton. He wasn’t surprised when she nodded.

But unlike everyone else, she did not go on about it or look at him with expectations that he could never hope to fulfill.

“I’m sorry,” she added softly.

Alex acknowledged her sympathy with a nod, and then pushed the maudlin thoughts away with concern of his own. “Perhaps you should think about a lock on your door or having one of the servants sleep in front of it. Next time someone might not be there to catch you.”

And Alex knew falling down stairwells wasn’t the only danger in a castle like this—a castle populated largely by soldiers, some more rough than others. When he thought of how vulnerable she was in such a state . . .

Every muscle in his body hardened with rage that was both instinctive and, he recognized, disproportionate to the circumstances.