She was already walking toward the ridge where her Roses stood. Kirstin ran partway down to help her and the bairn up the slope. Her friend whispered in her ear, glancing back at Shaw. Was she poisoning Alana with more…what? Truth?
Foking hell. He scraped a hand down his face and strode after her. Let Kerrick deal with her irate mother. He’d known that Alana would hate him, he just thought he’d have another day before reaching Edinburgh. Another day to tell her what had happened at Stirling, even if the memories were muddled for him.
With two more powerful strides, he was next to her. He sheathed his blood-soaked sword, something he would never think of doing before that day. “Alana, stop.” He caught her arm, and she halted but didn’t look at him.
“Let her go, Sinclair,” Kirstin said, but he ignored her.
“We need to get Rose to the ship, so you can get credit for bringing her safely there,” she said, her words just above a whisper.
“Dammit. I would have the truth out now before the partial truth can poison ye more against me.” He didn’t wait for a reply he wouldn’t get and didn’t care that her friend stood glaring at him while he talked. “I led my men down south that winter to…” He swallowed his pride. “To beg your father, the chief of the Campbells of Breadalbane, to help me reason with or defeat Edgar Campbell. Over the nine years since my uncle died and Edgar Campbell kicked us off Sinclair land, I had tried every avenue I could think of, but my petitions to the king were never returned. Even if your father would not convince Edgar to give us back our lands, my hope was to have your father convince him to let us live on the edge of the lands to the south. So many had already died, my own sister, and we were in the beginnings of another cruel winter.” Shaw paused, watching her tuck the soft blanket under Rose’s little chin, the bairn staring up at her face.
He took a deep breath. “When your father refused to help, I was furious, desperate.” His eyes shut as he remembered the turmoil shooting through him, the anger making him curse to his trusted men. “And then Major Dixon arrived with his troops. He realized that he was outnumbered by the Covenanters and said that in exchange for our help breaking up the Covenanter meeting, he would personally take my petition straight to King Charles.”
Kerrick walked past them, dragging Alana’s mother. Both of them watched, but he didn’t allow Lady Campbell to stop.
“I should have trusted my instincts and left or stayed to help the Scots. It was obviously not a religious gathering, Alana. Ye need to know that. Before the English showed up, they were discussing how some Englishmen who were sympathetic to their cause had broken into the king’s circle and were drawing him out.”
She looked at him, her expression pinched as if she wanted to ask a question, but it stayed inside her tightly shut lips.
“Shaw,” Alistair yelled from the bluff.
“We need to go,” Alana said but didn’t try to pull away.
“Dixon told me he only planned to break up the meeting, send them home.” He shook his head. “I would not have helped him slaughter Scots, even if they were Campbells.”
“And yet you stayed,” she said.
He released a breath. “I was…knocked unconscious on top of Rìgh. The horse led me out of the valley. Alistair found me after it was over. He said that they had begun to carry out my original order to help the English but had ridden away when they could not find me.”
“How does a man over six feet tall, riding a huge warhorse, get knocked unconscious?” The narrowing of her eyes was like daggers hitting his already clenched chest. She didn’t believe him.
He shook his head. “I had a lump on the back of my head with dried blood. A rock thrown most likely.”
Alistair ran down the slope. “Ye two will have to finish this discussion later,” he yelled.
Shaw turned to him, his hand itching to grab him by the throat, but he was right. He caught Alana’s chin in his two fingers, looking down into her hard gaze. “We will talk more.”
“After today, you will have what you came for,” she said. “Victory for the Sinclairs. There is nothing more to say.” She turned her face toward the docks, her chin slipping from his light grasp, and walked away as if he’d vanished from her thoughts.
…
He is lying. Could a man lie so well while staring someone straight in the eyes? Da was plotting to kill the king. Had her father given the assassins the idea to use Finlarig as a place to lure the king? Ma was willing to kill a babe to escape. Had she gone insane while imprisoned? Shaw. Shaw. How could he have not told me? How can I trust him?
Alana’s thoughts twirled around her, making her both dizzy and perilously close to vomiting. Feeling her wobble, Kirstin kept a tight grip on her arm as they hurried with Rose down the path to the waiting ship. Robert caught up, his large body right next to Alana, giving her the strength of his presence. Several men stood on the dock, most of them in the red uniforms of the English. At this point, Alana didn’t know who to trust with Rose.
“A bit of a battle down there?” the English officer asked Shaw, who was right behind her. He eyed Robert, whose large head swung back and forth as if trying to decipher who was the enemy.
“There are those within your ranks, Colonel Wendall, who would kill the princess along with any decoys,” Shaw said, looking back to the beach. “I had no choice but to defend the princess with force.”
“You killed Major Iain Dixon?” Wendall asked, his brows slightly raised, as if something humored him.
“Aye, he was attacking the bairn. Like I told ye last night, the bastard has been following us for days.”
“His body is over there?”
“My men dragged him and his men inside the ruins,” Shaw said.
The commander nodded. “We will take his body to King James, but right now it is time to get the last of these babies on your ship, Captain LeFevre.”
Alana looked at the ship where the other two wet nurses stood on the deck holding their charges. “I must speak with Bess, to make sure she can care for R…for this babe, too. Otherwise she will die during the voyage.”
“I will personally make certain that la petite fille will be cared for,” the French captain said, his smile almost bored. He snapped his fingers, and one of his men came forward, arms outstretched for Rose.
Alana’s heart squeezed, and she couldn’t stop the tears from swelling out of her eyes. Maybe she should go with her. Her mother was free, and Kerrick would take her back to Finlarig. The Highland Roses would continue to learn without her. Her mother could continue to hate her for sleeping with the enemy, and Shaw could return to Girnigoe victorious with his royal papers.
Alana dodged the French sailor’s reach, making Robert growl, showing his teeth. “I will go with her,” Alana yelled. “I will make sure she is cared for and reaches France safely. I can even stay to see all three babes settled.”
“What?” Kirstin snapped.
“Nay,” Shaw said at the same time.
Alana stood tall without looking at any of them. She nodded to emphasize her words. “Take us aboard, Captain,” she said, determination in the tension of her face. She clutched Rose to her chest and turned to Kerrick. “You will have to keep Robert here.”
Colonel Wendall waved his hand. “You will be paid the same amount as the other wet nurses. Take them aboard.”
“The papers for the Sinclair clan,” Alana said, her face turned away so that she didn’t have to look at Shaw or his men. She sunk down, her one hand supporting Rose, as she brushed her forehead against Robert’s shaggy head, kissing him before standing back up to meet Colonel Wendall’s gaze. “You will give them back their lands and castle?”
“That was the agreement,” Colonel Wendall said, pulling a large sheaf of parchment from his military coat. “Signed and sealed by King James for the safe delivery of his daughter to the ship.”
“Alana, no,” Shaw said.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair take the agreement from Colonel Wend
all’s hands even though Shaw was the one who’d fought for nearly ten years to win back his home for his people. Kerrick grabbed a rope coiled along the dock and looped it around Robert’s thick neck. “Alana…” Kerrick said, shaking his head. She held her hand palm up at him to stop him from saying anything else. Yes, Grey would be angry, but maybe now that he had children of his own, he might understand her need to protect the little girl that had taken up space in her heart.
“Let Grey know that I will return when I know she is safe and loved,” Alana said and waited for Kerrick’s nod.
Shaw jumped in front of her. “’Tis not safe. Ye cannot go.”
“If it is not safe for me, it sure as Hell is not safe for Rose. God willing, Captain LeFevre will get us to Calais, and then the French government will escort us safely to Paris, where I can make certain she is well cared for and…loved.” The word “love” stuck in her throat, almost choking her. Because she knew, knew now as her heart broke looking at Shaw, that she had given up her heart to him. But he had not told her the truth, had not trusted her enough. How could he love her in return if he could not trust her? He never said that he loved me.
Tears filled her eyes again, and she turned toward the ship, exiling him like he had told her to do to Robert back at the festival. It seemed so long ago. Alana forced her legs to step forward, and a flutter of people surrounded her.
“Ye cannot go,” Martha said, tears in her own eyes.
Izzy gestured frantically, her face drawn tight. Kirstin grabbed Alana’s arm. “Do not go, Alana. Your brother will… Well, I don’t know what he will do, but we will all suffer. And…” She shook her head, her own eyes looking wet. “I cannot… Ye are like my sister. I love ye.” She stepped closer. “What if ye die, drown, get caught up in France by killers? Nay, Alana, I need ye.”
“Surely you must reconsider,” Lucy said. “You have only just now found your mother.”
“Evelyn and Scarlet will go after ye,” Cici said, her face more serious than Alana had ever seen before. “We all will.” She glanced at the French captain. “Can I go, too?”
“Me, too,” Kirstin said right away.
“We all will,” Margaret yelled, Izzy nodding viciously and pulling her hair stick out to hold like a dagger at the captain.
“Absolutely not,” Kerrick said, but everyone, including Alana, ignored him. He threw his hands in the air, grabbed the end of the leash, and strode back to her mother who squatted on the ground, her arms clenched about her knees. Robert sat down next to her, his usual joyful face appearing sad.
Captain LeFevre looked amused. “As much as I would like to take such lovely mademoiselles on our voyage, I have only enough room and provisions for one woman with a bébé. Only Mademoiselle may come aboard,” he said, holding out his hand toward Alana. One of his men yelled something down to him that she didn’t understand. “We must go,” the captain said.
Alana had started learning some French from Scarlet but hadn’t gotten very far. She huffed, knowing that she would have to learn quickly. Everything was happening so fast that there wasn’t time to think things through. But that also meant there wasn’t time to think about Shaw, how he hadn’t told her that he’d met her mother before, that he’d supported Major Dixon at Stirling, at least for a bit.
I must do everything, everything in my power as a chief, as a Sinclair warrior, and as a man to win back the land of my people. Everything. His words came back, haunting her. He had warned her that his clan was his priority but then had given her his oath right afterward.
She paused on her way to the ship and turned back to look at Shaw. “You said…” She wet her dry lip. “You said that you were mine, no matter what happened.” Shaw stood there, and Alistair grasped his shoulder as if holding him back. Logan had the other arm. Alana shook her head. “I release you from your oath. I…I do not want you to be mine.” It was the biggest lie by far floating in the air with all the other lies and foul truths that had been revealed.
I do not want you to be mine. I do not want you. I do not want Shaw. Alana clung to the lies as hard as she clung to the warm bundle strapped to her front and climbed the gangplank up to the ship’s deck. Bess and the other wet nurse nodded to her but didn’t leave their station at the rail. Alana kept walking to where large coils of rope were being thrown about and leaned her back against the thick mast. Only then did her face crumble inward, and she raised a shaking palm to her face, tears bleeding out of her to soak her hand.
Chapter Twenty-One
“A word,” Captain Wendall said beside Shaw, but Shaw kept his gaze on Alana’s soft form, watching her walk away to disappear on deck. “Chief Sinclair,” he said, his tone stern and loud.
Shaw glanced to the gruff older man. “Ye have your princess safely aboard, and we have our papers.” Shaw’s words came even and low, a far different sound than the warrior yell resounding inside his brain.
Wendall nodded and leaned into him, lowering his voice. “I will let King James know of Sinclair loyalty when I bring back Dixon’s body. Without my words and support, James could easily turn against the Sinclairs, yanking back all your lands, titles, and castle, making every last Sinclair an outlaw. Do you understand?”
Shaw’s eyes narrowed with his increasing frown. “I understand ye are threatening me.”
Wendall’s mouth turned up into a half smile, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. “Good. Remember that.” The man pivoted and strode to mount his horse, and Shaw turned back to the ship, the man’s cryptic threat already replaced by the pain of loss. It bored into his chest as if intent on hollowing him out.
By now, after a lifetime of loss, he should be used to pain that carved through him, leaving emptiness, an emptiness that nothing could fill. Not revenge, not whisky, not war, not even peace and friends. Alana had walked away. She’d taken Rose and climbed aboard a ship, and he couldn’t even go get her back because he knew Alana wouldn’t leave Rose. And Colonel Wendall had just made it very clear that his support required Rose to go to France.
He stood in a battle stance, his hands fisted at his sides as he watched the crew prep the ship to sail.
“Tell him,” Logan said behind Shaw. “Damnit, look at him. He looks worse than when Reagan died.”
“Let’s get the fok out of here,” Alistair said. “We have the documents with the royal seal. The mission is complete.”
“Tell him what?” Rabbie asked. Somewhere behind Shaw at least two of Alana’s friends sobbed. Kerrick cursed, and Alana’s mother remained silent. Did she care so little about Alana that she could just let her sail away? Or had Alana’s surrender in Shaw’s bed driven the mother to apathy?
Shaw moved to the edge of the dock, looking for a glimpse of Alana. All he could see were the French captain’s horses being led below on a ramp on deck and barrels of trade stacked in orderly rows. The gangplank was still down. What if he barged up it and grabbed Alana and Rose away? Alistair had the bloody papers, but would they mean anything if Wendall painted the Sinclairs as traitors to King James?
Damn it all! If the wet nurse could just assure Alana that she would take care of Rose. Not that he wanted the bairn to sail away, but if she was a princess, she would be taken well care of in France. “Alana,” Shaw yelled, but no one paid him any attention.
“Fok Alistair, he thinks losing Alana is all his fault,” Logan said and cursed again. Bloody hell, I will tell him.” Logan strode closer, but Shaw didn’t care about anything anyone wanted to tell him, unless it involved a way for him to get Alana off that ship or him to France. Could she ever forgive him for not stopping the slaughter of her father and capture of her mother?
Logan grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake. “Shaw, ye were going to help Alana’s parents once ye saw Dixon give the order to attack the group. Ye need to tell her that.”
Alistair grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking it off Shaw’s shoulder. “Leave it be, man. We have the papers. Let us ride.”
“Look at him,” Logan yelled
at Alistair. “He looks…like the day he found his ma bloody and broken under the castle walk. Tell him the truth.”
His men’s words began to penetrate Shaw’s plans to chase after Alana and Rose. He looked at Alistair. “Tell me what truth?”
Alistair’s face was red, his jaw clenched. His free hand gripped the back of his own neck, and he rolled his shoulders. “Ye were going to jeopardize what ye had worked so hard for. Dixon was a high-ranking English officer who would petition King Charles for our lands.”
“That would be the same Dixon who was going to kill three innocent bairns and is right now bleeding out in the incoming tide over there,” Logan said, pointing with a jabbing motion.
“Why else do ye think that Shaw was contacted for this mission?” Alistair countered, throwing his hands out. “King James just thought…” He sharpened his normal brogue into a skewed version of a royal English accent. “‘Aye, I will ask that annoying laird up north to take my daughter to St. Andrews.’ Nay, Dixon gave him your name and got that other colonel to bring these papers.”
“Dixon was going to kill the bairns and blame the killings on the Sinclairs,” Logan yelled back.
“I did not know he would do that, and if Shaw had backed out of helping Dixon at Stirling, I would not be standing here holding these papers,” Alistair said.
Shaw turned to look at the two angry men. He knew that they had hot tempers and definite opinions about how they should rectify the loss of Sinclair holdings. But their blazing stares and clenched fists told him that this was something more than counter-opinions.
Shaw looked directly at Alistair. “What did ye do at Stirling?”
Alistair lowered the papers down, and Logan snatched them away from him. “I do not want ye bleeding all over them when Shaw hears what ye did,” Logan said.
“Fok,” Alistair said and raised his fists to his forehead, rubbing hard. He inhaled fully before meeting Shaw’s gaze. “Ye were going to tell Dixon we would not help, that Sinclairs would defend the Covenanters if he turned the confrontation into a battle.” He shook his head. “I could not let ye do it.”
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