Free Quinn: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 2) by Lily Baldwin

swallowed and opened her eyes, but her lids appeared too heavy to remain that way.
    “Rest now,” he said.
    She nodded, crawling to where James lay. “I have never slept out of doors.”
    He smiled. “To me, there is nothing finer than a soft pallet and a canopy of leaves or stars overhead.”
    She sat up, resting her head on her elbow and stared at him. “We have lived very different lives, have we not?”
    He nodded. “Aye, that we have, but I’d wager we have more in common than ye might guess.”
    She laid back down and was quiet for several minutes. He had thought she had fallen asleep, but then she sat up a little. “Earlier you spoke of your mother. You said she died by King Edward’s hand.”
    He nodded. “Like yer mother, she was killed during the massacre.”
    She shook her head. “So much death.” She stared off into the trees. “I miss my mother every moment of every day.” She paused for a moment and then continued saying, “We had little in common, although in appearance, I am very much like her.”
    He studied her profile while she continued to stare outward.
    “She was the daughter of a merchant,” she said. “In life, she had been bold and strong, refusing to be tamed by convention; whereas, I strove always for refinement.” She shifted her eyes from the trees, meeting his gaze. “We would argue.”
    “Mothers and daughters often do. I had the privilege of having two sisters.”
    “Had the privilege?” she said.
    A pang of regret filled his heart. “My youngest sister, the youngest of all my siblings, was also killed during the massacre.”
    Her eyes widened. “Quinn, I am so very sorry.”
    “Me too,” he said.
    She turned onto her side and pulled her knees in to her chest. “We argued that day,” she blurted. “My mother and I. We argued the very day King Edward invaded. She had been wearing her hair uncovered and unbound for days. I accused her of trying to start a scandal to ruin my chances at a good marriage.” She shook her head. “I often accused her of ruining my chances. My mother was common. I did not have the fair skin favored at court. Despite my family’s wealth, I doubted, and rightly so, my ability to make a prudent match.” He glimpsed unshed tears the instant before she cast her gaze downward. “It was because of our argument that my mother sought solitude and left for market on her own that horrible day.” She was quiet for several moments before she once more met his gaze. Tears wet her cheeks. “I have never told anyone about that, not even my sister.” Her voice cracked, and she became very still.
    He longed to pull her into his arms and rock away her misplaced guilt. “Her death was not yer fault,” he said softly.
    A sad smile curved her lips. “I know that,” she said, swiping at her wet cheeks. “I have always known that. But there is a difference between knowing something and believing it. I never forgave myself.” She shook her head. “I think that is why I agreed to marry Henry. I knew he would take me away from Berwick, away from my father’s grief. I believed that since I could not forgive myself, that I would have to settle on forgetting.” She absently pulled at a loose thread on the sleeve of her tunic. “And I suppose I did. I was all too happy to disappear from the world, enclosed within Ravensworth castle for the rest of my days.” Her voice broke again. “It was a decent life.”
    He crossed to where she lay and stretched out on the other side of James, resting his head in his hand. “A decent life? Forgive me for saying so, but ye can do better than a decent life.”
    She shook her head. “After everything that has happened, how can you say that to me? How could anyone ask for more in a world so full of wickedness?”
    “Ye don’t ask for more,” he said. “Ye seize it, and it’s because of life’s hardship that you don’t wait—you may not have a lifetime to get it right.”
    “I thought I had it