A Highlander's Gypsy (Highland Temptations Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  “Did anyone else recognize me? Were ye alone?”

  “I was alone.” Drew frowned. “What is this? What has ye so nervous?”

  Shana wished she could clamp her hand over William’s mouth, but there was no time. When he looked down at her, she shook her head to give her opinion of what ought to happen next. He might know this Drew, but she did not, and she did not trust men.

  Except for William, and even that was merely a recent turn of events.

  “He is a friend. The MacIntosh family are good people, good friends.” William stared at her. “We can trust them.”

  She shrugged. He was determined to lead them into this, wherever it led. The sad fact was, her feet plagued her too badly and she was too relieved he’d returned to care very much by then.

  And he had already done so much to protect her. He wouldn’t lead them both astray now.

  He pulled Drew aside and explained in low tones who she was and what they were doing together. It wasn’t William she watched. It was Drew. How would he react?

  She’d always been skilled at reading the reactions of those around her and understanding them better because of it. This skill had helped her when her family had come to villages and towns, when they’d set up to perform for the men, women, and children who passed.

  Being able to understand people, if they truly meant the smiles they put on for show. If they intended to harm her or her kin. This sense had saved them from trouble more than once, she was certain.

  She had never needed it more than she did now.

  Drew listened with deep intensity. That was the first thing she noticed. He did not just hear. He listened, his body tensing the further William ventured into their story. His lip lifted in a snarl when Jacob Stuart was mentioned, and he spat upon the ground at the description of Shana’s condition when William found her.

  “Is this true? He held ye in a cell?” What had once been a jovial voice, full of laughter and fun, was now tight and menacing. It was little wonder this Drew MacIntosh was a troublemaker. He looked prepared to murder a man with his bare hands.

  “That is true,” she affirmed with a nod.

  He held her gaze. “He deserves to die.”

  She liked him.

  “Aye, ‘tis all well and good,” William agreed, “but for now, I have to get her home, to Richard. The guard will protect us once we arrive. ‘Tis only a matter of getting her there before either one of us breaks our necks. And her, with her feet so badly wounded. That was why I took the chance of going to town, that I might find salve for the wounds and something to treat a fever should it come to that.”

  “You’ll need somewhere she can rest, and something hot and hearty to get your strength back. Come,” Drew invited. “I know Rufus would be glad to have ye for as long as ye need.”

  “I dinna know if that is the best course of action,” William grimaced with a look toward Shana. “I would not wish to put them in any danger. Any of ye, truly. It is far too much to ask.”

  “It isn’t at all,” Drew argued. “There is no question to it. Ye need to come with me. Ye need to sleep indoors, before a fire, outside of the rain threatening to fall. She needs to be tended to. Ye both do. I mean no offense, my old friend, but ye look like… my old, old friend.”

  Much to her surprise, Shana burst out laughing. It came on like a burst of weather, a surprise storm, and once she started it was impossible to stop. The floodgates opened and out it came.

  The two men looked at her with almost identical expressions of surprise, which only made her laugh harder. Helplessly.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks which reappeared the moment she swept them away. It had been so long since she’d laughed. “He does look rather dreadful.”

  Drew joined her, but William hardly looked amused. “If only ye knew why. If only ye knew.”

  Drew clapped him on the back. “Well, then. My wagon is just inside the tree line—I left it there to finish following ye on foot, and I can put her in back.”

  “You can what?” she asked, all hints of laughter now gone.

  Drew turned to her. “There is ample room back there, and I’ve traded for furs today among other things. Ye might hide beneath them and be warm at the same time.”

  She looked to William for understanding. For guidance. Should she do this?

  The unsettling fact was, she disliked the notion of traveling without him at her back. While he would most likely be no more than a few minutes behind her, this was not the same as sharing a horse. He would not be touching her. She wouldn’t be able to feel his heart beating whenever his chest touched her back.

  She didn’t know until just that moment how reassuring that brief contact was.

  His frown told her he thought along the same lines. “I’ve gone to a terrible lot of trouble to keep her safe,” he told Drew, hands on his slim hips. “I would hate to see ye be the cause of something happening to her.”

  So that was it. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. He did not actually care for her—even taking a chance by purchasing salve hadn’t been for her benefit, but for him. She was little better than a possession in his eyes. A thing, just like everyone had always seen her.

  “You needn’t bother worrying. I’ll ride in the wagon.” She gave Drew a tentative smile. “So long as you are willing to take a chance on keeping me there. It could be dangerous for you.”

  The man merely scoffed. “Danger means little to me. Fact is, it’s been too long since I’ve tasted it.”

  William came to her, bundling her up in his arms without warning. “Are ye certain ye wish to do this?” he murmured while Drew tended to the wagon.

  She turned her face away, unwilling to look into his troubled eyes. “You said we could trust him.”

  “Aye, and ye seemed as though ye disagreed.”

  “Which is it, then? Is he trustworthy or no?”

  “Aye, he is.”

  “So? I see no problem.”

  “Why are ye angry with me now?”

  She offered no response, as they had reached the wagon and Drew was waiting with furs pulled aside for her to nestle beneath. “Now, never ye fear. There is no reason for anyone to stop my wagon. I’ve become what ye might call a respectable citizen, and everyone knows and likes me.”

  “That canna possibly be true,” William snorted.

  “I’ll have no more of that out of ye,” Drew grinned. “Come on, now.”

  Shana crawled into the wagon, curling herself up atop a fur before Drew lowered several on top of her. Except for her head, she was completely covered.

  “See? No one would even know a wee thing such as yourself was there.”

  She nodded, glancing at William for confirmation. His face was a mask of doubt and grave concern. His jaw worked as he nodded, fighting against things he did not wish to say.

  Worrying over his possession, more than likely. Just the notion that he saw her that way made her face flush with unvoiced fury. He was fortunate they were riding apart from each other, for his ears would be ringing otherwise.

  “All right, then,” Drew announced. “Time to cover ye completely. Take care ye remain as still as ye can, now. I’ll look over my shoulder from time to time to make certain you’re covered.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured just before he draped another fur over her head. She was in the dark again, as she had been in the cell, though at least she was comfortable now. Very comfortable, in fact. Warm and nestled snugly.

  Were it not for the out of control pounding of her heart, she might have been quite content.

  The men muttered something to each other which she could not make out before the wagon’s slight swaying told her Drew had climbed up behind the team. “Steady now,” he murmured. “Off we go.”

  This was the worst time of all. This was breathing as slowly and gently as possible to keep herself calm. Staying as still as she could so as to avoid moving the furs.

  What if someone stopped him? Even a friend
, someone passing on the road. Much could happen in two hours. And William would, of course, ride well behind them, careful to keep anyone from thinking they had anything to do with each other.

  Please, help me. Keep us safe. She repeated this, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer. As always, she imagined her mother’s face, loving eyes, a gentle smile. She imagined her mother holding her, imagined the rocking motion of the wagon was really her mother’s loving embrace, rocking her the way she’d rock a bairn.

  And she behaved as a bairn would, by falling asleep.

  When male voices rang in her ears, she woke with a gasp, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized she might have given herself away.

  “Dinna fear, lass,” Drew called back. “We’ve arrived. Stay where ye are, however, until we’re in the stables.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered behind her hand. She’d never meant it so much.

  Soon enough, Drew lifted the furs from her and she sat up. They were, indeed, among horses in a stone building with a thatched roof. “Welcome to the home of Rufus MacIntosh,” Drew grinned, then nodded to a man standing beside the wagon.

  He looked a good deal like Drew, though he was taller, broader. “I would be Rufus,” he explained. “My cousin enjoys speaking for me. ‘Tis happy I am to have ye here.”

  “Happy?” she whispered, arching a disbelieving brow. “You know who I am, I take it?”

  “I do. My cousin already shared the tale. And I would never refuse William Blackheath, or anyone under his protection.”

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “Down the road. He should be along soon. He kept quite a distance all the way.” Drew held out his arms. “Come. I’ll help ye into the house. William has the salve he purchased in town, but ye shall need your feet washed, for certain.”

  “Davina can help with that,” Rufus suggested. “My wife. If you would rather a strange man not be the one to treat your wounds.”

  “You do not need to trouble yourselves.” Even so, Drew lifted her in arms surprisingly strong for a man of his small stature and carried her from the stables to a house just beyond, walking past a garden and through the rear door.

  They entered the kitchen—warm, the ceiling hung with dried herbs and ropes of onion which she supposed had been grown just outside. A handful of wildflowers sat in a jug on the table, which stood near the cheerful hearth. A pot sat over the fire, and the scent coming from it made her mouth water.

  A lovely place. The sort of kitchen she would want for herself if she had a home of her own. Nothing grand. Just enough.

  Into the room came a young woman whose eyes widened at the sight of a stranger in her home. “Davina, this is a friend. Another friend is on his way, William Blackheath. Ye remember him, of course. He came all this way for the wedding.”

  Davina gave him a distracted nod, her gaze still on Shana. “What would your name be, then?”

  A flush crept up over Shana’s neck and over her cheeks. “You can call me Tara,” she whispered, suddenly uncertain whether this was the best course of action. Rufus MacIntosh and his cousin—who still held her in his arms, her feet dangling high above the floor—might have been good friends of William’s, but that friendship did not extend itself to this shrewd woman.

  Then, just as suddenly as she’d appeared, her frown turned to a smile. “Welcome to our home. Ye look as though you’ve had a tough time of it.” She looked at Drew. “Put the woman down, for the love of all that’s holy.”

  “Ye dinna believe me strong enough to carry such a slight thing as herself?”

  “Och, ye know I would never think such a thing.” The way she rolled her eyes as she pulled out a chair told Shana this was a woman she could trust. She might even have liked her already.

  Drew lowered her to the chair, and she murmured her thanks as Davina got to work examining her feet. “Fetch me a basin of clean water,” she asked no one in particular, not looking up. Rufus did as she asked.

  “You’ll be in need of something to put on these wounds. They’ve already begun to become infected,” Davina fretted.

  “William has something for them. Do you think he’s all right out there?” Shana looked to Drew.

  “Och, he’ll be along any minute now. Dinna ye fret; he’s one of the fiercest men I know.”

  Shana reminded herself of the man he’d killed for her, the one they’d left by the stream beneath a pile of leaves. He could handle himself.

  Though he’d only been one man, that mercenary who’d tried to kidnap her. And he had been distracted when William crept up on him. What if more than one man approached William on the road? What if he’d been waylaid by a group of Stuart men, or he’d been unable to approach the house because someone had been watching?

  What would she do without him? How could she possibly survive without him? He was the only reason she was still alive and fairly well, and he still had not arrived. She would never impose on these good people and put them in harm’s way. She would have no choice but to go off on her own when her feet were healed enough to walk on them.

  It would be slow going, for certain. There would be nothing and no one to protect her. Even with Davina’s gentle hands on her feet and ankles, she felt utterly alone.

  Minutes later, Rufus entered through the kitchen door with a basin of water—and William.

  Only when their eyes met, and he smiled did she release a deep sigh.

  11

  The house was quiet, the other men sleeping where they normally did—in smaller outbuildings scattered over Rufus’s land. Davina was in the room she shared with her husband after having made up a bed for William in the front room, where he and William sat with a flagon of ale.

  “It seems we’ve both come a long way since last we saw each other,” William smiled, raising his mug in silent salute. “I recall how eager ye were to bury your sword in the belly of Ian MacFarlane, and the next thing I knew ye were to be wed. I thought I’d be coming to your rescue when the law got hold of ye, but instead, I stood by and watched ye marry the man’s sister.”

  “Aye, though we dinna speak much about him, ye ken. She doesn’t like it.”

  William nodded in understanding. From what he remembered, MacFarlane had already been all but dead by the time Rufus shot him. “He got what he deserved.”

  A corner of Rufus’s mouth pulled up. “Aye. I suppose we all do, don’t we?”

  “That we do. Though I have to wonder what I did to deserve this, then.” He snickered. “My mam was always warning me that I might one day have to manage somebody as difficult as myself. She said she prayed I would one day have bairns as wicked as I was, and that she would take great pleasure in knowing they were bedeviling me just as I did her.”

  “Was she right, then? She is not a wee bairn, I’ll grant ye, but does she make ye suffer?”

  “She does at that. Sharp-tongued, stubborn, like as not to lead herself into certain danger with that temper of hers. She never misses the chance to disagree, to tell me I’m wrong in very nearly everything I think, say and do. And she’d rather light herself on fire than admit she’s wrong or take instruction.”

  “What brings the two of ye together, then, eh?”

  William looked over his shoulder to where she slept near the fire. Black curls spilled over the pillow, like ink, shining in the light of the flames. She shifted a bit, eyes closed, murmuring to herself. She was asleep, most certainly, for if she were awake and merely pretending to sleep for the sake of listening in she would lie still, silent, perhaps holding her breath that she might hear better.

  Even so, he kept his voice low, leaning closer to his friend. “Came upon her as she was being held captive by the Stuarts.”

  Rufus blinked, his brows rising. “Ye took her from them?”

  “She did help me quite a bit, ye know. And she hardly begged me not to.”

  “Ye know that won’t matter to Jacob Stuart when he finds ye took what he believes t
o be his.”

  “She didna belong to him.”

  “Ye hardly need to convince me.” Rufus sighed, glancing at her before continuing. “Why did he have her? She’s gypsy, no doubt.”

  “Dinna call her that. Trust me. It isn’t worth the danger to your health.”

  Rufus nodded. “I will keep that in mind. But she is.”

  “Half. Her mother. Her da, on the other hand, was a Scot.”

  Rufus’s brows lifted higher. “I see. I imagine she’s one of the raiders I’ve been hearing tales of, then.”

  “Aye. There’s a price on the heads of her brothers, though I dinna believe the law knows of her. They would not expect a lass to be part of it—not even one they have a low opinion of, as they do of her kind. Which we both know.”

  “And Stuart had her…”

  “To lure her brothers and collect the bounty.”

  Rufus’s barely-muffled laughter came as an unpleasant surprise.

  “What do ye find so amusing about that? It’s a monstrously cruel thing to do, treating her as if she were no more than a horse to be bartered.”

  “I’m laughing at myself.” Rufus wiped away a tear which rolled onto his cheek. “For I did the same thing. We have not spoken of what exactly brought Davina and myself together, so of course ye can be forgiven for not knowing that I was just as monstrously cruel as Stuart is.”

  “What do ye mean, man? Ye aren’t the same sort of man.”

  “But a desperate man does desperate things. I wanted to use Davina to get to her brother. Stuart wished to use the lass to get to hers.”

  “Aye, but Ian MacFarland stole your land and murdered your kin. Jacob Stuart only wants to collect the bounty on the heads of outlaws. Not nearly the same thing, so ye might do well to stop trying to compare it. I refuse to believe you’re the same sort of man who would hold a woman captive in a cell.”

  Rufus’s eyes hardened, as did the line of his jaw. “He did that, eh?”