“I’ve heard a tale or two, in order to frighten me as a child,” she said.
“Ah, Nessie is more than a tale,” he said, his lips curling mischievously. “But she’s nothing to be frightened of. In fact, she’s rather friendly to those she likes. To others, however, one must be careful.”
He winked at her, and she laughed, seemingly surprising herself more than he. For a moment, something seemed to pass between them, something that said that perhaps they didn’t have to be enemies, that they held something in common — that they were both forced to be together against what they truly wanted. She smiled at him, sending warmth flowing between them. He cleared his throat and was about to say something when an older gentleman walking by came to a stop in front of them.
“I say,” he said, peering at Gwen with narrowed eyes. “I know you.”
“I — I am sorry, sir, but there must be a misunderstanding,” she said, giving him a small smile, and Roderick willed him to pass, not wanting him to make a scene. He had come to realize that when Gwen was threatened, she ran, and today that would not be an option.
“No, no, do not patronize me, girl,” he said, peering at her once more before his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the one who robbed my stagecoach! I’ll never forget it. All those highway robbers and in their midst, a woman, as beautiful as sin. I thought you were a captive. We tried to help you. You—”
“Please, sir,” she said, and Roderick could hear the desperation in her tone, “I think you must have the wrong person. Someone who looks like me perhaps?”
“You’ve a unique look about you. I—”
Roderick stood then, putting himself between them.
“Excuse me, sir, but could I have a word? I’m with the Mounted Police.”
The man looked back at Gwen once more before giving a curt nod and following Roderick. For a moment, Roderick had thought that perhaps there could be a bit of friendliness between them, but this man had reminded him of all that she was, and when his gaze locked on hers as he walked away, he realized the brief interlude had been fleeting.
Chapter 7
“There he is — Doc Malone.”
The officer escorted Roderick and Gwen into the barrack’s jail cell, and as Gwen gasped beside him, Roderick had to admit that the man lying in front of them was somewhat shocking. This couldn’t be the notorious bank robber, the man for whom the Doc Malone Gang had been named. No, this man was… old. Broken. Sick. Glancing over at Gwen, Roderick realized that he must have deteriorated quickly, even more so in the time he had been captured and transported to Winnipeg.
Gwen wanted to return Doc to Scotland, but Roderick wasn’t sure the man would make the trip across the ocean, let alone out of the jail.
“Doc.”
Gwen’s voice was strong, though Roderick could tell it was somewhat forced as she walked up to the bars of the jail.
“What have you done?” The man’s voice was reedy, as rail thin as he was, and yet it caused Gwen to take a step back as if she had been struck.
“Doc, we are going to return home, to take you back to Scotland. Your wishes will be fulfilled. I—”
“That’s enough,” he said, looking at her with disgust in his face, in his tone, and Roderick found himself wanting to defend her, to tell him she had done all she could, but he realized how foolish that would be. “You know as well as I do that I would rather die in this land, alone, than return to Scotland with the police. What did they want from you, hmm? What have they taken?”
“Nothing that harms us,” she said, a bit of a bite entering her tone. “I tried to follow your orders, Doc, truly I did. Our plan has changed, yes, but I will fulfill this promise to you. I will get you home, as you asked of me, and will ensure that all we wanted shall come to fruition.”
Roderick stared at her, trying to decipher the meaning of her last words. He thought she had simply wanted to return the man to Scotland. Was there something more at play here, something she was keeping from him? And did it have anything to do with the furtive looks over her shoulder as they traveled? If she had another motive for her actions, he vowed he would determine what it was. She continued speaking, however, and he was pulled from his musings.
“I did what you asked, but you have to realize we typically have a gang of men, while I was but one person trying to pull off a robbery.”
“One person, daughter? Or one woman?” he asked, mockery in his tone, and she flinched, though she didn’t back down. Roderick had to admit to himself that he was impressed by her strength.
“That’s not fair, and you know it better than anyone,” she said, straightening her shoulders and standing up even taller. Roderick stood well over six feet, and he figured she would come up to his nose. He had never met a woman who could nearly look him in the eye. “Stop trying to hurt me just because things didn’t go to plan. You were captured just as well as I was.”
She stared him down, and Roderick could see the defiance in her eyes. Doc stared back at her until finally he sighed and dropped his gaze.
“Fine, then, Gwendolyn,” he said. “We’ll do what you say — we’ll return to Scotland. Now, who is this fool with you?”
“Roderick McDougall,” she said. “He is… part of the deal. He is to accompany us back to the Highlands.”
Doc’s deep, nearly black eyes, well sunken in his gaunt face, turned to him now. He gave out a bit of a rueful laugh, shaking his head. “An officer of the law is accompanying… us… back to Scotland.”
“He is,” Gwen said, and Roderick felt a strange sense of pride for the way she would not let herself be cowed by the man, though he supposed it was because of Doc she was this way. It wouldn’t have been easy to be raised by such a man, though it seemed she had come out with strength rather than a broken spirit as others would have.
Roderick finally felt it was time he interjected in the tense exchange between the two of them.
“We leave in the morning,” he said. “We do not have much farther to travel until we make the docks and the ship that will take us home. It won't be long now until you’ll be back on Scottish soil, Doc.”
He put his fingers on the back of Gwen’s arm and gently steered her stiffened body out the door and into the room beyond. When she reached one of the oak ladder-back armchairs against the wall, she nearly collapsed into it, her strength having apparently been drained out of her through the exchange.
She looked up at him, though her gaze was unfocused, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere.
“That… that man in there,” she began. “He looks so different, so sick, so old. And yet when he opened his mouth…”
“He’s the exact same man he has always been?” Roderick asked with a bit of a smile.
“Yes,” she said, smiling back at him. “Fortunately or unfortunately, he is.”
They stared at one another for a moment, and he felt that pull to her that he continued to try to ignore. The train ride over the prairies had been an interesting one, to say the least. Roderick was a man who liked most people, but when he didn’t, he never saw the need to hold his emotions or his thoughts in check. He saw the world in black and white, good and evil, but this woman — she perplexed him. One moment he enjoyed her company, found she was quick-witted with an easy laugh. The next moment he was reminded of what she had done in her life, the actions she had taken, the people she had hurt, and he was brought to anger once more. The truth was, he was just as frustrated at his own emotions as he was with her and how she made him feel.
Unsure of how to deal with his conflicting thoughts, he had spent much of the train journey so far in the company of other passengers, although he had kept a close eye on her, not that there was much opportunity for her to escape. Nor was she likely to, as he had what she wanted — her father. Once word had gotten out of who she was, however, most other passengers had taken a rather wide berth of her. A few had tried to speak to her, but Roderick had managed to head them off. He was playing a strange role of both captor
and protector.
Now, he felt some sympathy toward her and what she was going through after he saw her come face-to-face with the man who had raised her. It couldn’t have been an easy life. “Gwen,” he said gently, a surge of pity coursing through him. “I’m sorr—”
Before he could finish his sentence, however, she waved away his kindness with a flip of her hand, apparently not wanting any sympathy.
“Ah, well,” she said, though he wasn’t fooled by her levity. “Soon we will be home and you shall be rid of the both of us. Now, where am I to sleep tonight?”
A bit of regret churned within him at where he was about to lead her, but he knew there was no other option. “Follow me, lass,” he said. “Your, ah, room, is right this way.” He took her down the corridor, past empty cells until he came to the last in line.
“I am to sleep in a jail cell?” she asked, turning to him, her eyes wide and flashing with sparks.
“It’s clean,” he said defensively. “And I’m sure you’ve slept on worse before, camping out as you did.”
“I slept on the forest floor,” she said with indignation. “’Tis a bit different, Roderick. Is there nowhere else I can spend the night?”
“Well…” he tried not to take a step back. “You are a criminal. We’re not on a moving train, and how else am I to keep you from escape?”
“You mean, you don’t want to watch me sleep?” she asked, and he was about to bark back an angry retort when he saw the glimmer of mirth in her eyes, and he realized she was baiting him.
“I’ve watched ye sleep, lass,” he said, stepping close to her, drawing near to her face. “You had more than a nap or two on the train. Do you know your snore sounds like a wounded wild boar and you drool like a babe?”
Her eyes widened and she put her palms on his chest, making to push him away. As they came in contact, however, the laughter suddenly disappeared from her eyes, to be replaced by a look of confusion and something else, something that he didn’t want to acknowledge but saw there all the same. Her desire seemed to flare, sparking his to life, as her fingers curled into him, and her lids dropped down as if to hide what she was feeling from him. It was too late, though, and he caught her fingers in his with the intention of gently removing her hands from him, to keep himself from acting on the strange sensation she caused within him.
When their fingers made contact, however, it was as if she was searing his skin with the burn of her touch. She was a witch, casting a spell over him so that he did not know how to breathe, nor, at this moment, did he want to. No, he wanted it to claim him, to take him over and make him do what he absolutely could not, should not, and would never do.
He kissed her.
The moment their lips touched, it was as if the spark that had been smoldering for days suddenly hit a fuel source, catching fire with an explosion that could not be contained. Roderick pulled Gwen to him, and her body slammed into his, their lips moving over one another in an undeniable love play as they tasted one another, taking and giving all in the same breath. Her hands came up around his neck, her fingers twisting in his hair, drawing him closer, were that even possible. He moved with her, pushing her back until she no longer had anywhere to go as she came flush with the wall behind her.
His hands came to her face, cupping her jaw, his thumbs tracing the silky smoothness of her cheeks while his fingers kneaded the back of her head. He wanted her so badly, his entire being was nearly consumed with it. And, yet, enough rational thought remained, telling him he could not let this go that far. She was his prisoner, for goodness sake, and they were in a jail. All of the thoughts whipped through his head as he continued to explore the velvet of her mouth, her tongue dueling with his. This was exquisite. This was all he could have ever asked for.
He had never in his life kissed a woman who held so much passion inside of her, with so much to give. He could hardly stand it, could hardly contain it, and yet, he didn’t want to.
His hand traced the side of her neck, before continuing over the linen blouse she wore and down her body. She was in skirts now, and he was somewhat disappointed. He had liked the way the breeches had displayed her curves.
When his hand reached her hip, she pushed farther into his obvious desire, and he suddenly jerked away, a modicum of rationality finally washing over him like a bucket of cold water. He tried to take deep breaths, but all that seemed to come out were shuddering, shallow gasps as he did all he could to regain control. When he finally looked up at her, he was pleased to see that, at the very least, she was struggling as much as he, her cheeks flushed a deep, becoming pink, her eyes wide, and her world apparently as toppled as his own as she gave the wall behind her all of her weight.
“My God,” he said, running his hand through his hair, which he figured was well and thoroughly mussed from her fingers, as he remembered her nearly pulling it out of his head. “I…I—”
“You needn’t say anything,” she said, fixing her own hair and running her hands down the front of her shirt. “I know that — that was a mistake. It—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. By all practicalities, aye, of course it was a mistake. And yet, something inside of him was telling him that there was more to it, that there was a feeling he should give in to. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t ignore the thoughts flooding through his mind. “I think—”
“McDougall.” A tall, burly officer came around the corner, seemingly oblivious to the tension which hung in the air, for which Roderick was grateful. “Did you get the prisoner settled for the night?”
“She is, uh, that is, she’s right here,” he said lamely, torn between wanting to spirit Gwen away from there and knowing she was only in this situation because of her own actions.
“What’s taking so long?” the man asked, looking between the two of them. “Ah well. Here we go,” he said, gently steering Gwen inside the cell. Roderick wanted to step between them, to tell the man to keep from touching her, that she was more than a prisoner. But, quite obviously, he could not. And so instead, he nodded to the man, and without another look at her, he turned and continued down the corridor to the officers’ barracks, completely aroused and, in the same breath, confused.
Chapter 8
“These are your cabins,” Roderick said, gesturing to the two small berths side-by-side. “I shall be across the hall. Unless I am with you, your doors will be locked during the journey — from the outside, of course.”
“Oh?” Gwen asked, arching her eyebrow at him. “And where do you suppose we will go if we were to escape?”
He shrugged. “My duty is to ensure you stay well-guarded,” he said. “You cannot be trusted to wander the ship. I think you will understand why.”
Gwen turned from him so that her face wouldn’t betray her. His words stung, despite their truth. Logically, she knew that, of course, she couldn’t be out and among the other passengers. One might recognize her, true, as the man had on the train, which could raise panic. Even more than that, however, was the possibility that she might pilfer from the other guests. She imagined there were more than a few rich Canadians and Americans returning home for a visit, and there might be more than the odd jewel aboard.
None of the jewels these women wore or carried, however, could rival that which she held against her, though many could fetch a pretty penny. She had seen them on the passengers who boarded at the same time. Except she had no desire to steal from these women. It was only that Roderick, of course, would never believe such words if she told him, which she had to admit she understood.
She sighed. Their kiss had been nothing short of amazing. She had never known it could feel like that to kiss a man, had never known such passion was possible. When Roderick had left, she was shaken to her core and had barely slept the entire night. She had hardly even noticed the horrific state of the mattress she had lain upon, but had rather been entirely focused on the magic of the moment outside of the cell.
Despite the fact she had lived nearly half her
life surrounded by men, Gwen was, for the most part, an innocent. Her experience was limited to a hurried, sloppy kiss from a young man who had been part of her father’s gang for but a week or two. He had been handsome, boyish, and she had felt a kinship with him as he really didn’t seem to have a taste for the life. Yet that very reluctance had been his undoing, as her father had witnessed his hesitation and sent him on his way after but one robbery. Gwen had been upset at his departure, but more so at the loss of someone who understood her as none other in the gang, nor her father, ever had.
But this… was something entirely different. Roderick, it seemed, certainly had the experience of a man who had kissed before, and, as far as she could tell, was more than skilled at it. When he came to collect them the next morning, he had seemed entirely unaffected by their encounter, as he had coolly led them to the horses and the train, only speaking to them when he had to. He uncharacteristically said hardly a word to her on the journey to Montreal but had rather stared at her and Doc in stony silence, arms crossed over his chest. She didn’t know what to make of it, and so she treated him with the same disdain that always seemed to protect her when it came to men who wanted something from her.
Instead of Roderick’s amusing chatter, she had to put up with Doc’s questions, as he tried to ascertain where she had gone wrong.
“Does it matter anymore?” she asked him, to which he told her he was merely trying to help her improve for the future, but she shook her head at him. There was no future for her in thieving. That part of her life was gone forever. She had to finish but one more job, and then, if all went according to plan, she would have money to sustain her for the rest of her days, and she would no longer have to worry about what was to come. She had no wish to live extravagantly. She needed only to live.
“You have it?” Her father had asked her in a low voice when they had a moment out of Roderick’s hearing. When she nodded, grim satisfaction had twisted his lips.
Roderick’s Purpose: The Victorian Highlanders Book 4 Page 5