He paused before the door to her room. Alana wasn’t just some woman who ignited his blood more than any other. She was more. Courageous and clever, unafraid of hard work and able to persevere without complaint. Her inherent kindness had forgiven him when he’d abducted her. But would she be able to forgive him for putting his clan first?
The latch gave easily under the pressure of his thumb, and he pushed inside. Alana gasped, whirling around to face him. In the light of the fire, he saw the bulk of a man lying at her feet, his knees showing from under a Sinclair kilt. Alistair?
Shock numbed Shaw’s tongue. The lass had taken down Alistair Sinclair? What the bloody hell had he done to make her have to defend herself? The muscles in his arms contracted with his fists tightening.
“Shaw,” she said, hand at her chest as if keeping her heart inside. “I can explain.”
Before any word could make it to his tongue, the vibrating thunder of a snore came from the mass on the floor. He met Alana’s wide-eyed stare. Perhaps she hadn’t had to gut the man. “Ye put Alistair to sleep? On our floor?”
She nodded. “He ate Fiona’s tart.” Her nod turned quickly to a shake of her head. “I did not give it to him.” Another deep snore came from the floor. “I think he took the smashed tart, thinking to leave us the fresh ones.”
Shaw walked forward and squatted to look at Alistair. The man’s mouth had fallen open wide, his chest rising and falling. He glanced sideways at her. She stood with her hands pressed together before her lips, long hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She still wore her gown, though her feet were bare. Worry was all over her face.
“So,” he said, starting slow as he rose to stand. “He finally irritated ye enough to poison him.”
“No, I—”
“We need to buy more of Fiona’s tarts,” he said. “Save us Alistair’s tongue all the way home. I can tie him to his horse.”
Alana stared at him, and slowly her wide eyes relaxed and a small smile grew on her lips.
“Should we just let him sleep here?” she asked, her arms going out.
“Nay,” he answered, his eyes going to the baby in the nest that Rabbie had made for her in the corner. “I would…” He looked back to her standing there. Och, if only they were just two people who had met away from war and lies and sacrifice. “If ye would…”
“You are having a hard time finishing your thought,” she said, her voice low.
“If we could be alone tonight. To…talk.” Shaw didn’t want to talk. He wanted to touch her, kiss every sweet inch of her.
Her smile faded. “Before he fell unconscious, Alistair told me to ask you about the Covenanter Battle outside Stirling again, and that your thirst for revenge would make you give Rose up without a fight.”
Bloody damn Alistair. “Alana,” Shaw said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He brought them down between them. “We should talk.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “We should.” Her voice grew tiny. “Why do I feel like after all is said, things will not be the same?”
Because they would not. She would know that he’d been willing to help the English when Dixon came to Stirling. The guilt sat like a rock in his chest. “We could…talk tomorrow. On the way to Edinburgh,” he said.
Between them, Alistair snored loudly, but Shaw kept his gaze on Alana, trying to decipher her. She watched him, her breathing shallow, eyes dark in the shadows. Her fingers curled into the sides of her skirt. Did she want him as much as he wanted her?
His breath stopped as he caught the slight bob of her head forward in the firelight. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “In the light of day, when clan names mean something again. When the Highland Roses find us, and Kirstin cannot hide her prejudice. When Kerrick tries to convince you that he will help me free my mother so you can go home with your royal document. When I am awash with sorrow as the little princess is carried onto the ship.”
He heard her take a deep breath and saw her chest rise and fall. “Let us wait to talk tomorrow.”
A loud snore stopped Shaw from reaching for her. His gaze dropped to his friend who continued to be a thorn in his side. “I will carry him out.” He glanced at the bundle in the corner. “And ask Rabbie to keep the lass with him so…ye can sleep well tonight.” Before she could object, Shaw reached down to grab Alistair’s two limp arms. He grunted as he lifted the man up slowly, pulling him to lie over one shoulder. Dead weight.
Alana made a little noise and yanked Alistair’s kilt down to cover his arse and ran around him to open the door. With a quick stride, he walked down the hall to the room Rabbie and Logan were sharing, giving the signal knock.
Rabbie opened it, his brows rising when he saw Alistair. “He ate a sleeping tart.”
“Sleeping tart?” Rabbie asked. Shaw pushed past him, lowering Alistair on the floor by the hearth. Logan wasn’t upstairs yet. Good. He didn’t want the man questioning his loyalties. Punching him in the face would delay him returning to Alana.
“And I am bringing ye wee Rose to watch tonight,” Shaw said.
Rabbie opened his mouth, but Shaw spoke over his question. “Alana needs to sleep undisturbed.”
“And being alone in a room with ye will allow her to get a good night’s sleep?” Rabbie asked.
Shaw ignored him, stepping into the hall to stride back to his room. Inside, Alana held the sleeping bairn wrapped in the blankets. She leaned in, kissing her face, and Shaw’s chest squeezed. With her hair falling around them, the firelight giving her beautiful face a golden hue, she looked like a goddess and loving mother all wrapped into one beguiling woman. Och. What he wouldn’t give to have that in his life. Would you give up Girnigoe? He smashed the thought down before it could take root.
“She is still sleeping,” she whispered and lay Rose into his arms. He nodded, and their gazes met over the sleeping bairn. If only they could stay like this, together as a family. Impossible.
Shaw turned, his feet propelling him out the door and down the hall to Rabbie, who leaned out of his room.
“Are ye sure Alistair will be well?” he asked.
“If he doesn’t wake in the morn, let me know,” Shaw said. He kissed the top of Rose’s soft head and handed her off to the young warrior.
Rabbie’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. “Sleep well,” he said, the side of his mouth hitching upward despite the warning frown Shaw gave him. He traipsed back down to Alana’s room, this time his steps a little slower.
Perhaps the lass had changed her mind. She could send him away, and he’d sleep in the barn with Rìgh. Or perhaps she had decided that they should talk tonight, lay all the truths out before each other. Damn. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling more nervous than an untried lad.
The door was still open, a splash of firelight coming from within. With a fortifying breath, he stepped inside, his gaze circling the empty room. “Alana?”
“I will be out in a moment,” she said from behind the privacy screen set in one tight corner.
“If ye… I can sleep out in the barn,” he said before the sight of her stopped his tongue.
She stepped out from behind, wearing only her long smock. “Then who will I…not talk about anything with tonight.”
Lord help him, she was beautiful. Like an angel in white, the firelight casting her in gold. She glided up to him, and his gaze traveled along the softness of her skin and fullness of her lips. Her eyes were so expressive, and right now they stared into his eyes, into his very soul. Could she see the need there, his need for her?
“Alana—”
“Give me tonight.” She reached onto her toes and threaded her fingers through the back of his hair, pressing up while pulling his head down to brush a kiss against his lips. “Give us tonight.”
His hand came up to capture the softness of her cheek. Her face was tilted up to him. “Aye, Alana lass. We will have tonight.” His lips came down to slant against her already open mouth in a molten kiss, filled with desperation and the tattere
d vestiges of hope.
Chapter Nineteen
“She is fed, clean, and wrapped warmly,” Alana said, lifting Rose against her shoulder. The room was filled with Sinclairs, except for the one she wanted. Alistair sat on her bed, his head heavy in his hands, apparently having survived the night. Shaw had left earlier to locate Kerrick and the Highland Rose students. He’d given Alana time to wash and say goodbye to baby Rose in private. Although, no amount of time would be enough.
Shaw had told her what the English colonel and the French captain had said at the docks the night before. Her plan to keep Rose looked rather hopeless. Perhaps the princess would be just fine, living like royalty in France. She kissed the sweet infant’s forehead, her big blue eyes staring up at her. Her eyelashes seemed to have unfurled overnight.
“I have packed her two bottles and some fresh milk and pap made up,” Rabbie said. “Extra warm blankets and enough cloths to keep all three bairns clean. But we need to talk with the wet nurse to make sure she will be able to feed Rose after the milk runs out.”
She knew all this, but Rabbie seemed to need to say it again. She nodded, giving him an understanding smile. “Let us go find her.”
They filed out of the room, Alistair rising slowly to walk to the door while she gathered Rose’s blanket better around her. He turned in the doorway, blocking her. “Did ye ask Shaw about Stirling?” he said, his voice low.
Alana hadn’t let Shaw talk about anything last night. Only whispered encouragement and soft moans of pleasure hovered in the heated darkness around them. Both of them had clung to each other with desperation, exploring and tasting as if committing each other to memory. On the surface, it looked quite possible for them to remain together after rescuing her mother from Edinburgh, but Alana’s instincts, tangled up with Alistair’s cryptic questions, nurtured dread within her. Only the fire between Shaw and her last night had kept the worry away.
“He came in late and left early this morn,” she said. “There was no time to discuss.” She studied the man who said he was Shaw’s friend. He looked haggard, his eyes red and face still heavy with the sleeping drug. “Why don’t you tell me about the battle near Stirling? I know it is his tale to tell, but you seem quite anxious for it to be out.” Maybe if she knew a few of the details, whatever Shaw told her wouldn’t seem so troublesome. For despite them agreeing to put off their worries until later that day, she could tell something weighed heavily upon him.
Alistair looked over his shoulder where the other Sinclairs had descended into the common room and then back at Alana. “We have met Major Dixon before. He was at the battle outside Stirling, following King Charles’s orders to squash out the rebel Covenanters.”
“Is that why the major was so suspicious of us with Rose?” she asked.
“Likely,” he said, his gaze shifting behind him as if he was afraid to be overheard.
“And yet, Major Dixon wants to kill the princess? He switched loyalties, then?”
Alistair nodded. “He was loyal to King Charles, not his brother, King James, who sits on the throne now. Many military and political players hope for James’s daughter, Mary, to come quickly to power with her husband William, both of them staunch Protestants.”
“King James is Catholic,” she said, understanding. “Whereas his brother Charles was not openly so.”
Alistair shifted from foot to foot.
“And why are you telling me this?” she asked. “While looking nervous and worried about being overheard?” Rose began to fuss, and Alana began to sway.
Alistair stopped shifting, his face pinched. He opened his mouth and then closed it before finally speaking. “We had made a bargain before at the battle, well, Shaw did, made a bargain that is, to save our lands and castle from Edgar Campbell.”
“Alistair, what is taken ye so long?” Logan’s head appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“Nothing,” Alistair answered. “The bairn was fussing.”
With one last look at Alistair, Alana turned to bring Rose downstairs, her mind repeating his words. Shaw had made a bargain to help his clan. With whom? Her father but then he was killed?
The common room was full of her friends and Shaw’s men. Kerrick and Kirstin kept their frowns as they stared at the Sinclairs. Cici smiled at Logan, Martha smiled at Rabbie, and Izzy tipped her head while watching Mungo make hand signals to Logan. For a room so full, the only sound was the innkeeper wiping the bar down, his eyes wide.
“The bairn,” Kirstin said, weaving between the tables in her skirt to Alana. Her frown faded as she peered down into the babe’s sweet face. “So pretty,” Kirstin whispered. “Pink cheeks, blue eyes, the cutest little nose.” Kirstin looked at Alana. “If her eyes turn green, she will look like ye.”
Her words were kind, but they twisted inside Alana. She managed a sad smile. “I would miss her that much more.”
Kirstin leaned toward her ear. “If she is a princess, maybe we should keep her.”
Alana stared numbly at her. “I fear that is a hopeless notion. If we keep her, the Sinclairs fail to retrieve their lands and castle.”
Kirstin met her gaze with an unblinking one. “Something we care nothing about. If anything, we want the lands and Girnigoe to stay in Campbell hands.”
“You do not understand what they have been through these past nine years,” Alana said, shaking her head and raising her gaze to the large warriors who stood near the door. “The Sinclairs should get it all back, their lands, castle, and honor. I wonder if my father would have agreed if he were still alive. He did stop helping Edgar after the first push to take the castle.”
Kirstin said something back, but Alana didn’t pick up the words. Her eyes had gone to the door where Shaw walked in, surveying the room as if it were a battlefield. She supposed that it had the potential to be one.
“It seems St. Andrews is overflowing with Campbell lasses,” Alistair said to Shaw.
“And MacInneses,” Cici said.
“I am a MacPherson, to be exact,” Kirstin said.
“And I am a Kellington from London,” Lucy said. “And Kerrick is definitely not a lass.”
Robert ran in past Shaw’s legs and trotted from person to person, his powerful tail swatting skirts and thumping table legs. He didn’t care who was a Campbell, Sinclair, English, or Scot. Alana sighed, wishing that the world ran according to canines.
“These are the students from the Highland Roses school and their escort,” Shaw said.
“A large group will draw eyes,” Logan said, looking sideways at Cici, who had sidled up next to him as if she’d been there the whole time.
“We will stay back from your dealings,” Kerrick said. “I am here to make certain Alana gets safely to Edinburgh, where we will free her mother.” His gaze slid to Shaw. “After today, ye can return to your lands. Violet Campbell is our responsibility.”
Alana’s stomach tightened. “No. Shaw said that he would help me. ’Tis why I went along easily with them. It was an exchange.” She hugged Rose closer, inhaling her sweet baby scent. Could she stand losing both Rose and Shaw on the same day?
Shaw walked across to her, his gaze going from the babe to Alana’s eyes. She smiled sadly. “Did you notice,” she said, “Rose’s eyelashes have unfurled. Look how long and perfect they are.” He bent over the babe, peering in her face. Rose blinked as Shaw laid his hand over the wee one’s chest. Her little hand lifted, and thin fingers wrapped around Shaw’s thumb. He made a sound in the back of his throat. “She has a strong grip. A warrior to be sure.”
Kirstin came close. “Aye, look how tightly she squeezes.”
Alana’s gaze was fastened on Shaw’s waves of dark hair, so she met his gaze when he lifted his face. “It is as if she wants to hold on and not let go,” Alana whispered.
The gentle look on Shaw’s face hardened, and he slowly pulled his thumb from the babe’s grip. “We need to go. I can take the bairn down to the docks.”
“I will carry her,” Alana said. “
We need to talk to the wet nurse to make certain she knows that she is responsible for Rose.”
“Aye,” Rabbie said, jumping forward to go with them.
“Kerrick, keep the Highland Roses back here and be ready to ride once we are back,” Alana said, her voice strong even though her legs wobbled.
“We will gather some supplies,” Kerrick said. “Although we should make Edinburgh by nightfall if we leave right away.”
Alana walked out into the brisk, fall morning. The tang of low tide made her sniff, her nose wrinkling. She tucked Rose’s little hand back into the blanket and hurried beside Shaw and Rabbie toward the docks, their steps rapid. Logan, Alistair, and Mungo followed behind, no doubt watching for anything suspicious. Robert, loving the interesting smells, trotted along, his nose bobbing between the pebble-packed road and the breeze off the water.
Shaw’s arm brushed Alana’s as they walked. “I will still help ye free your mother,” he said. “And escort ye back to Killin in Breadalbane.”
She glanced up at him. “Are you certain? Do you not need to get home with your royal papers to make Edgar quit your castle?”
She felt his tug on her arm and looked up as he slowed his pace. His eyes seemed to search hers. “I would know before I leave if ye are with child,” he whispered. “I will not abandon my bairn or the mother of him or her.”
Her heart squeezed, and she managed a nod. Shaw caught under her elbow, steadying her as they resumed their pace. Her gaze fell on a man standing before a storefront, his eyes following them. Alana made her gaze turn forward as if she hadn’t noticed him. The press in her heart changed to a wild thumping. “That man by the milliner is one of Dixon’s soldiers,” she said, her voice low.
Shaw didn’t change his stride but turned them down one of the narrow, vacant streets.
“What is it?” Rabbie asked, the other Sinclairs coming up behind him.
“Dixon is about. Alana saw one of his men.”
The Highland Outlaw Page 25