An Oath Taken by Diana Cosby Page B

Nicholas, matching the throb in his head. “Answer my question.”
    Regret slid through Thomas’s gaze before he could shield the emotion. “By taking me on as your squire you have offered me hope when I had little.”
    He hesitated, unsure if his squire had answered the question. Rubbing his temple, Nicholas owed his confusion to the lingering haze of ale.
    The meeting with the Wardens of the Western Marches last eve came to mind and Thomas’s hesitancy when around the powerful Scots, along with his resolve to find answers to his questions as well. “Which man did you know last eve?”
    Thomas cleared his throat. “You will be wanting something to eat.”
    Blast it. “Do you think I would let anyone harm you?”
    His squire hesitated. “Nay.”
    â€œThen why do you evade my questions, give me half-answers, or keep the truth from me at every turn?”
    â€œI think you are a fair man.”
    Then he understood the lad’s reserve, and had missed the obvious from the start. “And you did not want me to be fair, did you?”
    Flames curled and drifted up in the hearth. Thomas released a slow, deep breath, then shook his head. “Nay.” His hands clenched tight. “And you have no right to be!”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause you are English,” he said, his voice raising a pitch with frantic desperation. “Because the Sassenach take without care and leave naught but devastation.” Thomas’s breath hitched. “And because ’twould be easier that way.” His voice broke. “Then I could hate you.”
    He was stunned by the ferocity of his squire’s charge, and his anger dissolved. Compassion filled Nicholas. Pain like this took years to foster. What had Thomas seen, experienced? He shuddered to think. “Who hurt you?”
    Expression guarded, his squire took a step back. “This isna about hurt.”
    â€œIs it not?” A residual pounding pulsed in his head as Nicholas grabbed his braies and jerked them on. He pushed to his feet, ignoring his body’s protests. “Last night when you served the ale, ’twas all you could do to avoid the men around my table.”
    The lad swallowed hard.
    Nicholas stepped closer. “Why?”
    â€œPlease do nae do this.”
    His squire’s harsh whisper halted Nicholas, but the flash of tears had him taking another step forward. To hell with propriety. He embraced Thomas and gave in to his own need to offer succor, to be there for the lad when it appeared everyone else had walked away.
    The lad struggled in his arms, then his slender frame shuddered and he sagged against him.
    Hot tears spilled against Nicholas’s chest, but he held him close, understanding all too well the need for release, to empty oneself of the shame and humiliation, and having someone there who cared enough to make a difference.
    After his father’s death, he’d dealt with the sadness, but his legacy of shame as well. Now, with Thomas in his arms falling apart, the old hurt spiraled through him, the pain of abandonment, and the knowledge that his father was a coward.
    Nicholas closed his eyes, stunned by the roll of emotion.
    Like a warm caress, Thomas’s sobs faded into tattered breaths upon his skin.
    A sense of peace invaded Nicholas as he held his squire, as if a need fulfilled. His throat tightened, caught by the power of emotion rushing him, by the rightness of it, of wanting the moment to go on forever.
    The hazy image of a woman entwined in his arms last night confused him. The erotic sensations even more. Flashes of heat, bodies wrapped in an intimate press, and the taste of her kiss teased him. Nicholas struggled to form a clear image of the woman’s face.
    Failed.
    The bells of Prime tolled. A guard yelled to another. Laughter, then muffled voices, invaded the silence.
    Thomas lay nestled within the circle of his arms, relaxed against his half-naked