Midnight Eyes, Brophy, Sarah [love story books to read txt] 📗

You always had a gentle soul underneath that rusty armor.”

“You should be careful how you bandy around words like gentle, Old Man,” Robert said wryly. “Another warrior might take it into his head to prove to you how gentle they aren’t. It could get messy.”

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. “If they would slice an old man in two for saying something they didn’t like, then I hope I have the intelligence not to call them gentle in the first place.”

Robert raised a brow. “There is a certain logic to that nonsense that I wouldn’t dare try to unravel.” He walked slowly over to one of the fallen stones and sat down, his face turning serious once more. “Gentle or no, I did what had to be done and did it damn well.” His eyes locked with Matthew’s. “Simple.”

Matthew pulled his furs more tightly around his thin shoulders and found a boulder of his own. He grimaced as he sat on the cold, unforgiving surface, but resigned himself to the fact that it would be a while before he would be warm again.

“And, I take it, it’s not so simple now?”

“No,” Robert said and lifted his face to the gray and blue sky. “I have what I have always wanted, and it’s not enough. Nowhere near.” His hands clenched impotently by his side.

“And what will be enough?” Matthew asked, but he already had a good idea what the answer would be.

Robert’s black eyes leveled to Matthew’s. “I’ll only know enough when I see it.”

Matthew let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Boy, you have got it bad.”

Robert didn’t even have to ask what “it” was.

“Old Man, you don’t know the half of it.” He paused, then surged to his feet and began to pace restlessly.

Matthew shook his head and stood slowly. “Well, my boy, it would seem that you have managed to make a simple thing complex in the extreme.”

Robert stilled his pacing for a moment and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “The complexities were there already, I’m just an inheritor of them. I manage to fight one off and another seems to grow in its place.”

“So what do you intend to do?”

“I intend to keep running, Old Man, till it’s time to turn and fight.”

As they started off around the tower once more Matthew said gently, “Don’t think much of that as a plan, Boy.”

“Nor do I,” Robert agreed amicably, trying to roll some of the tension out of his shoulders as he walked. “I may end up improvising and improving on it as I go.” They walked on in silence for a moment and then a grin broke on Robert’s face that was almost boyish. “Actually I’m beginning to find I’m quite good at improvisation. Take this little jaunt. Pure, unadulterated spur-of-the-moment improvisation.”

Matthew hunched his shoulders. “And you think this a good example of your skills, do you?”

“Compared to some of the other ideas I had, I think it was a stroke of pure bloody inspiration.”

“Just goes to prove, too many blows to the head really can addle a man’s wits.”

“It’s a fine line between addled and inspired,” Robert said loftily, drawing slightly ahead of the older man.

Matthew grunted. “There is also a fine line between smug and insane, my boy,” he said to himself, “and, to my thinking, you are a unique combination of the two.”

Robert looked round. “Did you mutter something, Old Man?”

Matthew opened his eyes wide. “Would I dare mutter in the presence of my glorious leader?”

Robert thought for a moment. “Yes.”

Matthew buried his chin in his furs and muttered about a lack of respect for one’s elders and Robert’s laughter on the wind was almost carefree.

“Careful,” Gareth said as Imogen stumbled yet again. He placed a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Maybe we should stop for a moment?” he asked softly, the worry plain in his voice.

“If you say that again, I may decide to poke one of your eyes out,” she said through labored breaths. She knew she was behaving like a shrew and for a second it felt good. Unfortunately, guilt quashed the slight triumph to be found in being horrible.

“Sorry, Gareth,” she mumbled. “I guess Mary was right when she said I’d gotten too soft and lazy for this.”

“She actually said that?”

“Almost.”

He gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “Soft, maybe, but a very nice kind of soft.”

“Flirting won’t make me feel better,” she said briskly. “I was well past being enamored with your repartee over an hour ago.”

“But I wasn’t flirting,” he said innocently. “I was merely stating cold, hard facts.” He laughed at her snort of disgust. “Oh, Imogen, you’re being far too serious. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“What can your life have been before this little…excursion?” she asked dryly.

“Perfect,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I just have the good taste to prefer this.”

“It would seem I’ve been sent abroad in the world with a man who has gone moon-mad.”

“A madman and a sick little guide.” Gareth looked behind them to where Lucas brought up the rear, dragging the nearly empty basket behind him. “And you have only yourself to blame for the illness of your smallest protector. You did say that he could eat anything that tickled his fancy.”

“How was I to know that he would take it as a challenge?” Genuine concern crept into her voice as she leaned closer to Gareth and whispered, “Is he starting to look any better?”

Gareth cast a critical eye over the small, dejected figure. “Well, since emptying his stomach behind a tree, he has stopped looking green.” Imogen began to chew on her bottom lip in concern and Gareth said soothingly, “Really he’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, when a boy eats his body weight in food in less than fifteen seconds flat he’s bound to feel a little unwell. After a bit, the effects will wear off enough for him to do it all over again.” He ran a critical eye over her pale face. “It’s