“In a while,” he said. “Give me a moment, will you?”
She nodded, and Roderick followed her inside. The cottage was small but full of the little elements that made it a home — the crocheted blankets draped over the worn furniture, the smells of meals made long ago still floating within the small space. Roderick went about opening the windows while Gwen beat the dust free of some of the blankets so they would have somewhere to sleep that night. She had tucked food from the train within Roderick’s bag — old habits were harder to break than she would have thought — so they would be fine until the market opened in the morning.
“Are you all right, lass?” Roderick asked finally, breaking the silence, and she gave a curt nod. “It’s been a strange year,” she said, thinking back over all that had happened. “My life has never been one of consistency, ’tis true, but at the same time, I always had a notion of what to expect. But then the gang fell apart, and we were on our own. Doc got sick, and… well, you know the rest.”
She turned to face him. “Thank you for helping us come this far. I suppose you’d like to wait for the morning light to continue on. We’ll be fine here.”
He simply nodded, and she felt something in her heart twinge at the thought of being without him. Don’t be foolish, she told herself. Just because you’re attracted to a man who has shown some niceties, some strength of character, you think he should want the same with a woman like you? He may be attracted to you but that doesn’t mean he wants anything more than a quick tumble.
She shook her head and went outside to collect Doc, and the three of them ate together in strained silence.
* * *
“Doc?”
Roderick woke early the next morning to the sound of Gwen’s voice. He had been hearing it in his dreams, had been seeing her face, part angel and part temptress, and had been feeling the soft skin of her body, his fingernails trailing along….
“Doc!”
He jumped up at the urgency in her voice, forcing him out of his reveries.
“Gwen?” he said, pushing away the blanket and re-arranging the kilt he now wore about his hips. He had changed into it before lying down for the night, and the freedom it provided from the tight restriction of his pants was as pronounced as the emotions he felt upon arriving in his home country.
He rushed over to her, where she knelt beside the bed where Doc slept.
Gwen’s head was bowed, her hand on Doc’s chest, and Roderick knew before he approached what to expect.
“Gwen?” he repeated, reaching out a hand to her.
“He’s gone.” Her voice was muffled, but when she lifted her head to look at him, he saw no tears, but rather a mixture of pain and resignation in her eyes.
“He is,” he said softly, wishing he could wipe away any heartbreak she felt over the death of the man she had called her father. “I am sorry, lass.”
“You could say he wasn’t the best sort of father for a young girl,” she said. “He didn’t teach me manners. He didn’t teach me how to be a good person. Instead, he taught me how to pick locks, how to steal from pockets, and how to flirt to get what I wanted. But yet… he gave me a home if you could call it that, and a family of sorts, I suppose. He had more of a presence than anyone I’ve ever known, and now he’s simply… gone. I knew it was coming, but it seems so strange to think he is no longer here.”
Roderick nodded, sitting beside her and gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders, which were so strong and yet so tense.
“I know, lass,” he said softly. “I know.”
He didn’t know how long they sat like that, as he simply held her, providing what comfort he could. Finally, it was Gwen who pushed away and said she must find Maggie to begin preparations for Doc’s body.
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur, as they returned to the village and made arrangements for Doc’s burial. They asked around to try to find more information on John, Doc’s son, as Gwen felt she owed it to him to tell him of his father. They had a few hints. He was likely in Inverness, they were told, and Gwen promised to follow up with him as soon as she could.
Maggie had them in for supper that evening, as she fortunately had not extended any ill will toward the pair of them. She proved to be a lovely woman, a cousin of Doc’s wife it would seem. She regaled them with stories of Doc in his youth. He had been a fine, handsome lad, she told them, wanted by all of the young ladies in the village, but he had chosen Aileen. Maggie said it was an ill-fated match from the start. Doc yearned for adventure, for life beyond this town, while Aileen wanted nothing more than to raise a family in the home that she loved.
“I suppose he was right,” Maggie said with a sigh. “It was likely better that he left, or who knows what sort of pain he could have brought Aileen and John throughout their lives. But I also think he was a bit of a coward to run from his responsibility.”
Now they had returned to the cottage, which held an air of eerie foreboding at the idea that a man had died here the previous evening. Roderick tried to shrug it off, focusing on all of the life the cottage held, left here by its owners from many years past.
Roderick turned back the blankets on the floor where he was to sleep, while Gwen busied herself readying her own small single mattress in the corner, both of them avoiding the large bed behind the curtain where Doc had slept.
“Do ye need anything else, lass?” he asked.
“No,” she replied curtly.
“Are you all right?”
“I am.”
Roderick hated the silence that had settled between them, seemingly filling the air of the cottage, and yet, for once in his life, he was at a loss for what to say.
As darkness fell, he lay down, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep, when he heard sniffling from the corner. His eyes flew open and he tried to listen more closely. He heard another loud sniff.
“Gwen?”
“I’m fine,” she called from across the room, “just some dust.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She sniffed again, and this time she let out a bit of a hiccup.
“Lass?”
When she said nothing, he pushed back the blanket, feeling his way over in the dark to where she lay.
“All is well,” she said, turning away from him. “You need not worry yourself over me. In truth, I do not really know what has come over me. Mayhap I’m just tired and I’ll be fine come morning.”
He sat next to her and rested a hand on her back, feeling the warmth of her strong muscles beneath his fingertips.
“It’s always hard to lose someone,” he said softly. “Doesn’t matter who they are. If they have been in your life for some time, you must grieve the loss of not only the person but also your life as it was.”
She finally sat up and looked at him, and he caught the glint of moisture on her cheek with the illumination of the moon through the open window.
“The hardest part of it all is not knowing how to feel,” she said in a whisper. “He was a bastard, true, but he was the bastard I knew. I never really told him how much I did actually appreciate the fact he took me in and gave me a home, despite all the troubles we had. I don’t like how we ended things, with him unsure of how I felt. Does that make sense?”
Roderick took her hand in his, gazing at her long, elegant fingers that he knew were a thief’s asset.
“As you have pointed out, I don’t know much,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “But I do know that the man loved you, as much as he could love anyone. Why, he left his own flesh and blood behind and yet never wavered from his connection to you once you met.” He cleared his throat as she gripped his hand tightly as if drawing strength from him and his words. “I also know, more than anything, that he was proud of you. I didn’t know him well, ’tis true, and I canna say I was his most fervent admirer, but whatever he did, he still raised you to be a lass any would be proud to call
a friend.”
He sensed her draw closer to him, felt her other hand, cool on his cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered and brought her soft lips to his.
Chapter 12
Gwen didn’t know what had caused her to do it, nor why she couldn’t keep herself away from this man. She had felt the physical attraction to him from the moment she had, quite literally, collided with him, but never had she thought she could feel such an emotional attachment. Yet, his words stirred something within her, had been powerful enough to move her to feel such gratefulness to him, that she couldn’t hold herself back as she had wanted to pull more from him.
When she first kissed him, he drew back in apparent surprise, and yet it didn’t take long for him to respond, his lips moving over hers, but not with the same wild abandon that had fueled their previous kisses. No, this one lacked the fiery passion, and yet, somehow, was so much more than the others had been.
This kiss connected them in a new, different way. Their lips met tenderly at first, softly tasting, exploring, learning more of one another. His hands came round her back, drawing her softly, gently toward him, and within moments she found herself sitting in his lap, feeding off his warm strength as it wrapped around her. He enveloped her within the strong muscles of his arm, the hard planes of his chest, and his musky, masculine scent filled her, a mix of bergamot and, in some inexplicable way, the woodland, though they had spent the last two weeks confined to ship and train.
What was more apparent than anything, however, was the way he made her feel. Never before had she given herself over so entirely to someone else, to a man who made her feel like a woman. At this moment, she didn’t have the need to be the strong, resilient, emotionless Gwen who effortlessly cracked a safe without showing an ounce of fear. Instead, she let the raw, confused emotions flow through her and into him, and she was ever so grateful he allowed her to simply be.
They finally broke the kiss, and he rested his forehead against hers as their breath mingled in quick gasps. He brought his thumbs to her face, wiping away the tears that continued to drip down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, yet found she was unable to stop the flow once it had started.
“Not at all,” he responded, letting his fingers fall through the long, unbound tresses down her back. “It’s good to let go. You have to let yourself feel, sometimes, Gwen, or you’ll harbor that emotion inside until it destroys you.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling her face into his shoulder. He was so solid, so… safe. It was a place she had never been before, where she found that she could actually trust someone besides herself, to watch over her and keep her from harm. Odd, she thought with a little laugh. The one person she found she was now able to rely on was the same person who had captured her and kept her under lock and key. And yet, now that they were no longer bound to one another by law, it seemed right that they chose to be here, in this moment, together.
“Gwen,” he murmured, his lips coming to her temple, “what am I to do with you?’
“I—”
She stopped as she heard a strange rustling come from the door.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered, all of her senses suddenly alert.
“What?” he asked distractedly, his lips still trailing kisses down the side of her face to her neck.
“Stop,” she said softly. “Listen — it sounds as if someone is at the door.”
“Ach, ’tis likely just the wind, lass,” he said, though he sat back and cocked his ear into the air in an attempt to better hear.
“My goodness, Roderick, you truly do make the worst officer. Do you have no instincts?” she said, to which he looked up in some offense.
“That’s not fair,” he said, as she stood and grabbed his bag from the corner. “I—”
The door burst open to reveal a silhouette in the light of the moon, brandishing a pistol in hand. The light vanished as another man filled in behind. “Well, well, what have we here?” came a voice in the darkness, and Gwen didn’t pause for a moment as she hauled Roderick to his feet and yelled, “Run!”
She rushed to the window but stopped when she heard a huge thunk behind her. She turned to find the man had caught Roderick, and they were exchanging blows in the middle of the room. Unable to see much in the darkness, Gwen winced when she heard the crunch of bone — likely a nose — and she only hoped Roderick was on the giving and not the receiving end.
Her attention was quickly caught by a noise at the door, and a second man emerged.
“Gwennie,” he drawled as he saw her. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Leave me be, Grim,” she said with a bit of a threat, but that only made him laugh as he approached her. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, though she tried to maintain a stoic countenance. “You always were a fiery one,” he said, drawing near. “That’s what makes this so much more fun.”
As Grim reached a hand toward her, Gwen caught his arm in her hands while at the same time twisting her body, and he yelped in pain at what she knew was a pinch in his muscle. He tried to take her feet out from under her, but Gwen caught him between the legs with her knee, and as he doubled over in pain, she swung her elbow to connect with his nose. When he cried out, she turned her head to find Roderick with his hands on his knees breathing hard, but his own assailant was sprawled on the floor, though he groaned and began to make his way to his hands and knees.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, grabbing Roderick’s bag. Unable to make it to the door as she didn’t want to pass the man she recognized as Marcus in case he should quickly find his strength once more, she stumbled through the small cottage, launching herself out the small window she had noted when they’d first arrived. It was a rule she had learned from Doc — always find a second way out.
Gwen landed on the ground with a roll, coming to her feet in time to see Roderick hit the dirt behind her, far less gracefully than she. He was quick, though, she would give him that, and he was soon up chasing after her, his long strides covering ground far faster than she.
“Who the hell was that?” he asked, his breath coming quick as he caught her and grabbed her hand.
“I’ll explain later,” she said, directing them beyond the land adjoining the cottage to the neighboring farm behind them. She quickly scaled the fence, he followed after her, and soon they were running through a pasture. She could see the shape of a building in the distance, and she risked but one glance over her shoulder as she made for their destination with all the speed she could muster. She couldn’t see anything, but Gwen thought she heard the shouts of their pursuers in the distance, and she only increased her speed as she sought to put as much space between them as possible. There were likely more of them than just the two. Grim and the other man had probably simply been scouting the place to determine if she was there.
As she sprinted through the pasture, she was grateful she still wore pants, and that Roderick proved to be a fast runner who could more than keep up with her.
Soon they reached the stable, and she threw open the door.
“Pick one,” she said, already quickly finding the tack hung on the wall as her nimble fingers began to saddle one of the horses nearest the door.
“We are not stealing horses,” Roderick said, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at her.
“Roderick!” she exclaimed. “If we don’t take horses, then we shall be captured by these men, and I assure you, you do not want that.”
“Who are they?”
“I will tell you once we are on our way. Now pick a horse.”
“Who. Are. They.”
She let out a groan of frustration.
“They used to be part of my father’s gang,” she said hurriedly. “That’s all I have time to tell you now. We must be on our way.”
“I’m leaving payment for our borrowing the horses, and I will return them.”
“But that’s the only money we have!” she exclai
med.
Roderick shook his head. “I’m not stealing any horses.”
“Fine,” she said, as she willed him to count the coins faster.
“Hmm,” he said. “I’ve hardly much at all. Especially not to borrow two horses.”
“We’ll take but one, then, Roderick, let’s go.”
He finally nodded, leaving the coins on the top of the stall door before mounting behind her, as she had already saddled and mounted the horse while he had taken his time to count the coins.
“Are you ready then?” she asked, and, not knowing whether he nodded or not, she snapped the reins and sent the horse galloping out the stall door. As the doors burst open, they knocked over two men who stood in front of them, though they were up and giving chase as Gwen and Roderick galloped out of the yard and down the lane.
“I told you!” she yelled, turning her head slightly so Roderick could hear her words in the wind. “You were so bloody slow, you almost got us caught!”
“I don’t even know who we are running from!” he yelled back, and she turned her head, pretending she didn’t hear his words. For when he learned the truth, he would likely no longer want to accompany her, and she realized she had grown to rather enjoy his presence.
* * *
Finally, what seemed like hours but was likely minutes later, Roderick was grateful when she slowed the pace to the point where the wind no longer rushed through their ears, making it possible to talk.
“Do you think we could switch positions?” Roderick asked, already knowing the answer.
“No,” she said simply, and he looked around him, trying to determine exactly where they were as he gripped her tightly around the middle, balancing himself on the horse’s back behind the saddle. Soon enough he would have to walk, he knew, for the two of them would be too much weight for the horse, but he figured they should put some distance between them and their pursuers first.
Roderick’s Purpose: The Victorian Highlanders Book 4 Page 8