“And Lucy,” Kerrick added quickly, looking back at the Englishwoman riding behind him.
Alana glanced back, too. “If the clans united, we would be able to win the rule of our own country.”
“Or at least the respect of the English,” the woman named Martha said. “At present, they seem more likely to shoot us than to help us.”
“Which is terrible,” Lucy said. “I do not feel that way at all.”
“We know,” the woman with the easy smile, named Cici, said, trying to imitate the clipped English dialect. “Ye are an honorary Scot, just with an odd accent.”
They continued to ride through the brightly colored forest, the north wind rattling the boughs so that leaves floated down. The land looked untouched with dense bramble, holly, and thickets around, but Shaw continued to scan the area. Without a scout ahead, an ambush was always a possibility. Dixon should be on the other side of the firth, heading directly to St. Andrews, but there were always bandits about, desperate men. Some of the Sinclair warriors had turned to waylaying rich wagons when times became desperate. His hand fisted to rest on his thigh under the blanket. He wouldn’t condemn his clan to another homeless winter. The conviction made his remorse fade even as each inhale of Alana’s flower scent tried to bring it back.
She shifted against him. “Do you think that Dixon and his men would harass us if we no longer have the babe with us?”
Rìgh weaved between two large oaks, and Shaw adjusted Alana again on his good thigh.
“I can sit on the saddle,” she said, wiggling forward. “It is not that uncomfortable,” she whispered.
“Dixon is the type of man who will hunt whoever escaped his grasp,” he answered. “He will want to know what happened to the bairn, and unless ye can convince him that ye lost your sweet baby boy and buried him along the way, he will know that we lie. Under his scrutiny, I would not be surprised if he used torture.”
“Oh,” she said on an exhale.
“And I am comfortable with ye on me or against me, whichever is best for ye,” he said, his lips grazing the soft edge of her ear. Once he told her the whole truth of what he had done, or not done, he would likely never have the opportunity to get this close to her again.
Alana slid off his thighs but still leaned her back into his chest. “I hope Rose is well,” she whispered.
His chin brushed the top of her head as his hand slid along her arm under the blanket. “She is. Rabbie is making certain the bairn eats and is clean. Mungo will bring a smile to her wee lips. Alistair and Logan will keep them all safe and moving forward to the coast. They may already be there.”
“And they will wait for us?”
She knew the answer he would give but obviously needed to hear it again. “Aye, lass. No one will let her go unless I am there to give the order.”
“Within a reasonable amount of time,” she added.
“Aye.” If Dixon shot Shaw dead, he’d want his men to see the bairn safely to the French ship, fulfilling the duty of the Sinclairs to the crown.
She sighed. “And then what?” She shook her head. “I know it is what the king and queen wish for their daughter, but will she be safe and loved in France?”
“It is not for us to worry over her in France,” he said, making Alana’s back straighten.
“I do not care if it is my place or not. That little babe is precious, and I worry. What if she is captured in France?”
“Are ye volunteering to sail across with her and make certain she is safe and loved there?” he asked.
“No,” she said, drawing out the O. “I have to save my mother, get her home to Finlarig, and then probably stop her from trying to throw Evelyn, Scarlet, and their brother, Nathaniel, out of our castle. And then…” She exhaled long. “Everything is so complicated.”
Her words couldn’t be truer. He brushed his mouth against her ear. “Ye are regretting last night.”
Alana bumped his chin as she turned to look at him. They were so close together, their noses mere inches away. “No, I do not regret anything about last night.”
He released his breath, blinking as he studied her beautiful skin, the freckles more pronounced after days of riding. “What if ye become with child?” he asked, his words barely a whisper.
Alana wet her lips. “I will love any and all babes that I have now and throughout my life.”
What would a wee lass look like with Alana’s wavy locks, running through the flowers to hug her, learning to throw a sgian dubh like her mother, eating those honey tarts that Alana seemed to love? Or a strapping son with green eyes and a stubborn opinion about everything, running about swinging a wooden sword and learning to ride his first horse? Would Shaw doom a child to grow up without a father like he had done? Would Alana’s brother welcome a bastard into his home or would she and the bairn be sent away?
It didn’t matter, because Shaw wouldn’t turn away from his own child. One way or another, the bairn, his bairn would know he had a father who cared for him.
“Ye will make a wonderful mother,” he said. “And ye should know that I would never abandon my own child, so ye must let me know one way or another.”
She turned to stare at him, her eyes a bit wider, and nodded.
Aye, one way or another, he would do what was right toward Alana. Not because she was part of his clan, but because he wouldn’t doom the child to be fatherless, and…he wouldn’t give Alana another reason to hate him.
…
“Come stretch,” Kirstin said to Alana. “We have been riding all day.” Alana walked closer to the fire where the Roses were doing their stretching routine. Evelyn was adamant that they stay bendable for proper self-defense.
Alana reached up high, stretching onto the toes of her boots, and then bent forward. Even without taking off her skirts, she could stretch. She breathed out, feeling the tightness of several days without the familiar exercise. She huffed. “Yes, this feels better.”
“Sooo…” Cici drawled as she bent over near Alana. She glanced around to make sure that Kerrick and Shaw were on the far side of the camp they were setting up for the night. “Was last night wonderful?” she whispered. “With him, I mean.” Her eyes moved back and forth between Alana and Shaw as if gesturing toward him without using anything but her gaze.
Alana looked around at the Roses; all of them were bent over, but their heads were up to catch her reaction and hear her answer. She pulled herself closer to her shins, her gaze on her skirt. “A lady does not tell about such things.”
“Of course they do,” Martha said. “Especially to sisters.”
Alana looked up to see her smiling. “Sisters?”
“Aye,” Cici said. “The Roses are like a clan of warrior sisters.”
Kirstin smiled wryly and nodded. Alana frowned at her. “Sisters who condemn one for sleeping with the enemy?”
“Grey slept with Evelyn, and we do not condemn him,” Martha said, but Alana kept her gaze on Kirstin.
Kirstin’s smile dropped along with her backside as she sat on the ground. “I am worried about ye,” she whispered. “I am not condemning ye for having a wonderful time. I just do not want ye hurt.”
Izzy started to sign rapidly, and they all stared at her. Her sister, Cat, who had traveled with her new husband down to England, was the person who understood her the best. “Slow down,” Martha said. “Oh, aye.” She looked to Alana, nodding. “Ye should have seen how frantic Kirstin was when we realized ye were truly gone. Kerrick thought that you had taken off to find your mother all alone, but Robert was still in the camp, so Kirstin insisted you had been taken.”
“And I found drops of blood on the ground inside the tent,” Lucy said, also sitting down on the dirt, her legs out to one side like she was seated on a blanket at a picnic.
“I…I stabbed Shaw when I realized he meant to take me to care for the babe.”
“Stabbed him where?” Kirstin asked, looking over at him. “Nowhere vital apparently.” Her raised eyebrow and smirk po
inted to Shaw’s jack.
“His upper arm,” Alana said. They all turned to look at him as he carried some firewood over to a circle of rocks. “It did not hinder him much.”
“I would say not,” Cici said, her words sounding a little awed as he dropped the wood and stretched his shoulders, making Alana’s mouth go dry. “Let us hear about your wonderful night,” Cici whispered without taking her gaze from him. Her hand jutted out to pat Izzy’s arm. “Maybe the little one should go help with the fire.”
Izzy snatched her arm away, shaking her head. Alana stacked her hands on her hips. “She is fine to stay, because I am not talking about last night, sisters or not.” Although, realizing that they felt like sisters, that Kirstin had insisted they leave the next dawn to look for her, warmed her. She smiled, letting her gaze meet each Rose. “This morning was shocking, and we have not had time to talk or I would have already said…thank you, all of you, for coming to find me.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “First of all, you are the chief’s sister.”
“And we would never abandon a Rose,” Martha said.
“Or a close friend,” Kirstin said.
Their words caught inside Alana, filling her spirit. “Thank you. If I had been in horrible jeopardy, you would have saved my life.” She wiped her hands on her skirt. “I better help fry the fish they caught earlier.”
Kirstin scrambled up to follow her. “I can help,” she said, but as they stepped out of ear’s reach of the other Roses, she caught Alana’s arm. “Alana. Just one more thing.”
The concern in Kirstin’s voice stopped Alana more than the grip on her arm. Was she worried about her becoming with child? Or of her plans with Shaw after finding her mother? “What is it?”
Kirstin looked toward Shaw. “Remember when the warriors brought your father back from Stirling?”
Of course she did. The gruesome corpse of the man who had ruled the Campbells of Breadalbane with fairness and honor, a good father and man, her mother’s wedding ring tied to his slashed shirt. “Yes,” Alana said, her frown sharp over the horrible image. “The English killed him and took my mother.”
“Yes, but one of our cousin Donald’s men, who brought his body back, said something about damn Sinclairs, as if they did something wrong at Stirling.”
“Did what wrong?” Alana asked. She knew that Shaw had been there to gain her father’s support.
Kirstin shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing, but the way the man said it and then spit on the ground made me believe everything I had heard of the rough Sinclairs, riding their wild horses, up in the north. Alana…” She touched her arm. “Truly, I have never heard a good thing about the Sinclairs.”
Anger tightened her stomach. Kirstin was just trying to help her, but she hadn’t gone through the last few days with Shaw, either. “Have you heard how they were thrown out of their castle, that the Campbells burned their homes? Have you heard how they have been forced to move and hide on their ancestral lands, some of them growing ill from the cold and dying? Have you heard me talk about how Shaw saved me and an innocent babe by throwing his own body before a soldier with a musket? Or how he agreed right away to help me free my mother when Kerrick would not help without an army behind him?”
Kirstin released her breath from full cheeks as if resigned. “Those things have been brought to my attention today.” She shook her head. “I just do not want ye to get hurt.”
“Shaw tries to protect me. He has since that first attack.”
“Aye, but I am not talking about you getting physically hurt. I do not want him to break your heart, Alana.”
Was her heart in jeopardy? The thought would have been ludicrous a week ago. Of course she had yearned for the type of love she’d seen grow in her brother when he fought and finally began working with Evelyn to make her school a success. But never would she have considered it with a man from a warring clan, especially after he abducted her.
Alana sighed softly, giving Kirstin a sad smile.
“Mo chreach,” Kirstin murmured, dipping her head to stare hard into her eyes. “Ye are already in love with him, aren’t ye?”
“No,” Alana said, but the word tasted bitter like a lie. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Although if I was…” She shrugged. “He is brawny, brave, and honorable.”
“And poor, homeless, and possibly an outlaw with an English commander wanting him dead.”
Alana dropped her arms, frowning. “Because he is trying to save a babe,” she whispered.
“He is trying to save his clan, Alana. The babe is just a way to do it.”
Alana huffed. “Both are honorable pursuits, but thank you, Kirstin, for your worry,” she said, trying to hold onto her charitable thoughts of her meddling friend. The woman had grown up with her. They had always been inseparable, but right now her prejudice against the Sinclairs was shoving a wedge between them.
Kirstin suddenly threw her arms around her, hugging her. “Ye are my only true friend,” Kirstin whispered. “I do not want ye hurt, and selfishly, I do not want ye leaving Killin for the very north of Scotland.”
Her words, and the heaviness in her tone, filled Alana with a sweet tightness in her chest. “I will just bring you with me,” she whispered. Kirstin pulled back, her eyes wide until she saw the teasing in her expression. Her friend’s lips turned up slowly into a smile that matched Alana’s.
Chapter Seventeen
Damn itching. The stitches where Shaw’s wound was healing itched on his arm and on his arse, and he rubbed a fist back against his hip through his kilt.
“Ye best not have given Alana anything that is going to make her arse itch,” Kerrick said low where he rode his own horse next to Shaw, Robert trotting ahead of them, and the ladies riding behind.
Shaw’s mood was foul to begin with since Alana had decided to ride with her hostile friend, Kirstin, instead of him that morning. He hadn’t been able to get close to her alone since the morning after her damn Roses showed up at their cabin. “If she itches from a healing musket or stab wound, then I did not do my duty to protect her and deserve whatever punishment ye think ye could deliver, Campbell.”
The cut on Alana’s forehead was healing well, Kirstin and the other Roses all washing and caring for the scabs. She would likely carry a scar, showing the world that he hadn’t saved her from the Englishman’s musket. He’d add the guilt to the boulder of remorse he carried. For his uncle’s betrayal in gambling away their home, cold and poverty, and what seemed to press on Shaw more each day…the remorse and guilt in doing whatever it took to regain what was lost.
“The ferry was quicker than I thought,” Kerrick said, apparently able to think of something other than hating Shaw. He didn’t care what the man thought of him, having learned long ago to ignore scorn. “We should be at St. Andrews by nightfall.”
And then what? He would find his men and the bairn, her wee toe branded with a rose. Alana was right. Who would brand a newborn bairn? It could have become tainted and killed her.
Moving about and living in various empty cottages, caves, and the occasional vacant house, the Sinclairs had learned how to signal that they were inside a building. But where should he take his suddenly large group of lasses? They were sure to stand out in the town.
“Ye will take the women to find lodging,” Shaw said to Kerrick. “I will find my men and the bairn. On the morrow when it is light, we will find the ship to take the princess.” And then the wee one would travel with strangers to a foreign land. Alana’s worries pressed on him, worries about love and kindness bestowed upon a girl heir to the English throne. Rose might not find much of either in France.
He exhaled long, his fists squeezing tight with Rìgh’s reins in his hands. Not his concern. His priority was making sure that Clan Sinclair was noted for fulfilling their mission to bring the princess safely to St. Andrews. In exchange he was promised documents granting the northern territory of Scotland and Girnigoe Castle back to the Sinclairs, namely to him,
Chief Shaw Sinclair, who would win back the title of the seventh Sinclair, Earl of Caithness. Not that the title mattered to him at all, only the land to farm and the homes and pride of his people.
Whatever it takes. I will see it done.
…
The sun was dropping fast, and Shaw yearned to ride ahead to find his men before all the daylight had vanished. He raised his fist straight into the air, a silent signal to stop, for he caught the smell of smoke ahead. Hearth fires meant the town was near.
The Roses formed a semicircle around him. Alana gave a whistle, and Robert stopped, trotting back. She rode behind Kirstin and leaned around her friend to look at him.
Shaw’s gaze connected with hers but then scanned across the group. “Ye ladies will find lodging in St. Andrews with Kerrick. There should be some place for travelers since St. Andrews is a modest port town.”
“Where will you go?” Alana asked.
“To find my men.”
“And Rose,” she said, frowning. “I will go with you.”
He shook his head. “It is safer for ye to remain—”
“I am going to find little Rose,” Alana said, interrupting as she swung down off Kirstin’s horse. “Kerrick, you are responsible for keeping the Roses safe.”
“Ye had to name the bairn Rose?” Kerrick said, shaking his head. “Anything to make things more difficult.”
Alana strode over to Rìgh, determination in the quickness of her step. She reached up to the saddle horn, throwing back her skirt to step on Shaw’s boot already in the stirrup. Did she worry he wouldn’t let her ride with him? The thought was ludicrous, but the silence between them for nearly two days had created a distance.
Perhaps the space was best. That was what he told himself until her warm body settled before him in the saddle, as if she were built to ride in the hollow of his chest. His arms came up on either side of her, and he felt…whole again.
“Let us ride,” Alana said.
“The dog will follow if ye come with me,” Shaw said and felt her stiffen slightly.
“Robert will be of use if we are attacked.”
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