A Highlander's Gypsy (Highland Temptations Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  “She was covered in filth. I canna help but believe her, just as I did then. And she was… stricken with terror. Eyes wide, wild, shaking. How could I leave her behind?”

  “What do ye intend to do with her now?”

  “Take her home. To Richard. He’ll protect her.”

  “What makes ye believe he’d do any such thing?”

  “He’s a good man.” William stared hard. “Do ye not believe he would be so generous as to extend his protection?”

  “I dinna know him as ye do, having been friends since ye were wee lads and all. Ye would know much better than I ever would. If ye believe in him, I believe as well.”

  “I do. He sent me to find her, in fact.” He shook his head then, waving his hands. “But that means little. Ye would never understand if I explained it, and I dinna wish to keep ye talking like this into the night. I know ye have a great deal of work to do about the place.”

  “Aye, it’s kept me busy. All of us, in fact. The land truly went to ruin in my absence—or, should I say, in my brother’s absence.”

  William heard the disdain in his friend’s voice. “Ye still haven’t had word from him, then. After all this time.”

  “I suppose he doesn’t know he can send word at all. He doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t know what I did to take back our land. Perhaps he’s… given up entirely, found a new life and new happiness in the New World.” He shrugged. “It means little to me now. It’s time to move on.”

  “I would love nothing more than to stay here and lend ye my back and my arms and my strength, but…”

  “But perhaps it is not a fine idea for ye to stay longer than ye need to.” Rufus grimaced as he said it, but that did not change the fact that he was correct.

  “I canna blame ye for wishing to protect what’s yours.”

  “If it weren’t for Davina…”

  “I know it, man. Ye dinna need to explain to me. No man in his right mind would call ye a coward. Not after what I saw ye do in battle, and now after how ye strove to take back what belonged to your family.”

  “I would fight again if it wouldn’t mean leaving her on her own should the worst happen.” Rufus snorted. “Though knowing my wife, she would be right there beside me with a pistol in one hand and a dirk in the other.”

  From what little he’d seen of her thus far, William believed this.

  “I think she might be carrying my bairn,” Rufus confessed.

  “Ye dinna mean it!” William clapped his shoulder.

  “She hasna said a word of it, mind ye, but I’ve caught her more than once running a hand over her belly and smiling—sort of staring off, far away, ye ken? Perhaps she waits to be certain.”

  “We should not have come.”

  “Dinna say that,” Rufus growled. “Tis glad I am ye did. I know you’re safe here.”

  “But ye aren’t safe.”

  “They dinna know you’re here, nor will they. And now, I’ll be asking ye to go to sleep, man. Ye look about ready to fall from your chair.”

  “I feel that way, too.” William went to the bed which Davina had made up on the floor.

  “We do have another room for ye to take your rest in, man.”

  “Aye, but I would rather stay here. ‘Tis warmer by the fire.”

  Rufus merely smiled, but offered no reply. He was wise enough not to offer a challenge to this. “Good night to ye, then. I hope the floor is not too hard for ye.”

  “I shall sleep well.” And he would, knowing they were safe for at least one night.

  And that she would be well.

  When they were alone, he went to her. The poor thing was just as tired as he, in need of a solid night’s sleep. The light from the flames played over her face, relaxed now except for a frown which wrinkled her brow.

  He ran a gentle hand over her brow in hopes of soothing her. What troubled her? Memories of the cell? Or imagined danger?

  Real danger? Knowing they were still days from Munro land and therefore days from safety? He did not know if she even believed they would be safe when they arrived, as she didn’t know Richard and had no reason to trust him.

  Or anyone.

  What had she gone through? He recalled some of what she’d spat at him that first night in front of the fire. How angry she’d been, how filled with hatred for not only him but everyone who’d persecuted her people.

  He had ceased thinking of her as “other” or “different.” When had the change occurred? He knew not. He only knew they were more alike than they were different.

  His touch made her stir, made her frown deepen. He barely had time to withdraw his hand—guilt-ridden, like a lad who’d been caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t—before her wide, dark eyes fluttered open.

  “What is it?” she breathed, still half-asleep though she struggled not to be. When she began pushing herself up, he eased her back down.

  “Ye seemed like ye might be having a difficult dream.” It was a lie, or at least partly a lie. He hadn’t gone to her because she seemed to be having a nightmare. He’d gone to her because she was there and because she was beautiful and he’d needed to touch her.

  How unfortunate.

  “I suppose I was at that,” she admitted. “I’m glad ye woke me before it got worse.”

  “I do what I can,” he smiled. “How are your feet? Do they pain ye?”

  She moved them slightly, then shook her head. “No, they feel much better. Thank the Mother for that. I did not wish to tell you how they hurt.”

  “Lass.” He took her face in his hands—gently, barely touching her, just enough to hold her still. “I need ye to promise something. And I need ye to mean it.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need ye to be truthful. Always. If ye are in pain, or ye are hungry or anything. Ye need to tell me. We must trust each other. Until we reach our destination, we are all we have. I must know ye will speak up when ye are in need.”

  “Why do you care?” The question had no sharpness, which was unlike her. Perhaps it was their surroundings, or perhaps there was something in that salve which soothed more than just her wounds. Or she was simply tired and warm and comfortable for once.

  No matter the reason, she was not challenging him. She simply wished to know why her well-being meant anything to him.

  He patted her cheeks, allowed one hand to stray over her soft hair before pulling away. “I shall tell ye another time. I swear. Now, it would be best for us to sleep while we can.”

  Her eyelids were already heavy, so it came as no surprise when she nodded in agreement. “Where will you be? If I need you?”

  His chest clenched tight at the question. When she was not consumed with being strong, brave, hard, she had many winning ways which would have gutted him entirely if he gave them the chance.

  He could not do any such thing. He had to be strong.

  The first step was putting more distance between them, which meant going to his own makeshift bed and settling in. “I’ll be here when ye wake and through the night. If ye need me.”

  She mumbled something that sounded like it might have been an offer of thanks, but sleep was already well on its way to overtaking her by then. A good thing, since waking her had been a mistake.

  Caring too much for her was a mistake.

  She was the last thing he saw before closing his eyes, and he told himself it was because she was his responsibility. Nothing more.

  12

  “He left me there to die.” Davina shrugged. “It feels like a lifetime ago, though it was hardly half a year.”

  “What happened to your brother?” Shana whispered, unwilling to wake William. She’d woken up before dawn, unable to fall asleep again, and had found Davina already working in the kitchen. The front room was still quiet except for the sound of his breathing, heavy but even.

  Davina kneaded dough on the table, flour everywhere, looking both, content at her work and troubled by her memories. “He died,” she whispered. “Just outside
the house. He was very ill.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “Don’t be.” Davina shook her head. “It was a difficult time, to be sure, but it was for the best that he went when he did. He wanted to. I tell myself so, whenever I recall that night. Since then, we’ve all worked hard to build the farm back up to what it once was. Rufus is happy, Drew has a purpose. Clyde feels as though he has a family again; he’s never spoken the words aloud, mind ye, but I feel it. Alec and Tyrone are longing to be on their way, I can tell, but they wish to be of service. I cannot imagine needing them much longer. I shall miss them.”

  “But you shall soon have someone else to take care of,” Shana whispered with a shy smile.

  Davina’s eyes flew open wide. “How did ye know?”

  “I could see it in you. It’s something I’ve always been able to tell—born in me, I suppose. My mam used to be able to tell as well. Women would pay her to tell their futures, you see, and men at times. But mostly women. Men do not much like to admit they believe in such things.”

  “Little wonder,” Davina snorted. Her cheeks colored, her eyes lowered. “I have not told Rufus as yet.”

  “I will not say a word.”

  Davina gave her a grateful smile. “Your mam was a seer?”

  “Och, nay,” Shana chuckled. “Da was a Highlander. Mam traveled through with her family, and that was how they met. His family did not much care for her. I have never met them, though he insisted I keep his name. I never met him, either, at least not that I can remember. He died when I was very young. Mam, when I was fourteen summers.”

  Davina clicked her tongue in sympathy. “You’ve had a difficult time of it.”

  “My people have as a whole.”

  She nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line, her hands working the dough with an expert touch. Shana watched her through the steam rising from a cup of hot tea. “I must admit something,” she whispered without looking up from her task.

  Shana waited.

  “I was uncertain when I saw ye here, in Drew’s arms. I had never met anyone like ye before, ye ken, though I’d heard tales. I admit I recalled those tales when I saw ye, and they worried me for a moment. But only for a moment. I must apologize for that.”

  “I recognized the look on your face. It was surely not the first time I’d seen it. I’m accustomed to it by now, I suppose.”

  “I dinna want ye to believe I would… imagine anything about ye…” Davina shook her head, scowling. “I dinna know how to say it. Only that it occurred to me that anyone Drew felt deserved his aid could not be a bad sort. After all, he believed I deserved his aid—well, not at first, ye ken, but he grew to like me and trust me. He’s a good man, as is my husband, and I trust their judgment. Which was why I knew ye ought to be welcomed here. But if I made ye uncomfortable in those first seconds…”

  “I understand. Truly.” Shana offered a smile to assure her hostess. “You’ve been very kind. I slept well for the first time since before the Stuarts took me.”

  “A terrible thing,” Davina murmured. “Dreadful. Men who care for nothing but collecting gold and building their fortune, no matter what it means to others. I know too well about that.”

  They had a great deal in common, it would seem.

  Davina put the dough aside to rise before wrapping two loaves in a piece of linen. “What is that for? Will the men take it with them as they leave for their work?” Shana asked, warm and cozy and comfortable. It seemed natural to ask about this woman’s life, a life she herself would very much have enjoyed living.

  An impossible dream, of course, seeing as how she was not welcome anywhere.

  “Nay, ‘tis for ye,” she smiled. “I know William will want to leave now, and while I would like to have ye here—if only to have another woman about the place, as I am hopelessly outnumbered—the longer ye stay, the greater the chance of being caught.”

  And of bringing danger upon the heads of the household. Shana could hear what the woman would not say, and she could not pretend she didn’t understand. Davina was expecting, which meant she had more than herself to fear for.

  Shana touched her arm as she passed. “I understand. And I would tell him we ought to leave if he did not want to. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way for anything.”

  Davina’s hand covered hers. “I do hope ye find safety. And more.”

  Shana snorted as Davina returned to work. “What more is there for me?”

  “What more do ye wish for?”

  “Wishes?” Shana snorted again. “I’ve not believed in wishes for many years.”

  “Do ye pray, then?”

  “I do.”

  “What have ye prayed for?”

  “Most recently, protection. Safety. To escape Jacob Stuart.”

  “And ye did. And ye have what ye prayed for—or will, soon enough. From what my husband tells me, William Blackheath is a brave fighter. Fiercely determined. He would not allow harm to come to ye.”

  “I know he would do his very best to protect me.” Shana played with the empty mug, unable to look her hostess in the eye as she voiced her doubts. It felt downright disloyal to doubt the man who’d already done so much for her, yet there was no silencing her fears. They tugged at her, prickling the back of her neck, tapping at the back of her mind.

  What if he simply wasn’t enough?

  Davina merely shook her head. “Ye need not fear. He’ll get ye to safety soon enough. After he does, perhaps ye can give thought to what else ye pray for.”

  They exchanged a knowing look before Shana averted her gaze again. It was as though the woman read her thoughts, and the feeling was not a pleasant one.

  Especially as Shana did not understand her feelings. Not one bit.

  “I could never have anything like you do,” she whispered, and the desire to weep suddenly swelled in her chest. She suppressed it, barely, her voice catching a bit but nothing more.

  “Nonsense!”

  “You said it yourself. When you first saw me…”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Why did you know you were wrong? Because you saw me with Drew. There will not always be a Drew or a Rufus or even a William to speak on my behalf. I have nothing now. No one. I shall never find my family and no one will take me in.”

  “Who’s to say ye will not have William to speak for ye?”

  Shana scoffed. “He’s eager to be rid of me, and I canna pretend I blame him. I’ve been nothing but a burden on him since the beginning.”

  “I wonder if he truly feels as ye believe he does.” Davina wrapped cheese, fruit, vegetables in cloth and placed them alongside the bread. She was more generous than Shana knew women like her could be. It was nearly enough to make her question what she believed.

  Were all people as cruel as she’d seen? Were there more kind, generous souls such as the woman bustling about her kitchen, making sure her guests had enough to sustain them on their journey?

  “How could he feel otherwise?”

  The corners of Davina’s mouth quirked upward as though she was about to smile, but stopped herself. “A man does not often put himself in harm’s way for a woman he cares nothing for. That is all I shall say on the matter.”

  “He cares nothing for me.”

  “Why go to this trouble, then?” Davina looked her in the eye, brows lifted in challenge. “Why take ye home with him? He might have turned ye over to the law and allowed them to have their way with ye, or he might have taken ye back to the Stuarts when he heard of the price on your head. Aye, Rufus told me about it,” she added when Shana’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Would it not have been easier for him to simply turn ye in? Or do ye believe the man had nothing better to do with his time than race across the Highlands with ye?”

  The man in question entered the kitchen then, looking sheepish. “Ye ought to have woken me,” he said over a yawn, scrubbing a hand over reddish dark blond hair which stuck out in all directions.

  Shana tried to respond bu
t found her tongue tied in knots. Davina’s simple reminder made all the sense in the world. Why did he choose to protect her when he might have turned her over as one of the group of raiders? Why go to the trouble of caring for her wounds?

  Davina stepped in when Shana remained silent. “’Tis still early; the sun has not yet risen. We did not wish to wake ye.”

  William looked to Shana. “We’ll have to be on our way soon.”

  “I know. I suppose I’m ready whenever you are.”

  “And how are your feet?”

  “They look better already,” Davina assured him. “I helped apply more salve and have boiled the old bandages. They’re drying now.”

  “You’ve done more before I woke than I sometimes do in the course of a morning,” he marveled, looking over the kitchen.

  “’Tis nothing for a woman, ye lie-about,” Davina said with a giggle, and Shana joined her.

  It was another hour before they took their leave, and when they did, Shana was wearing a freshly washed tunic and trews, along with a plaid tam under which she’d tucked her curls. She also wore a pair of Drew’s old boots, with her feet bound in extra bandages to make them fit better.

  “These will do until ye reach your destination.” Davina winked.

  Shana’s throat closed as emotion swept over her. “I don’t know how to thank you. Words cannot express…”

  “Dinna worry yourself, my dear.” Davina hugged her tight. “I’ll pray for ye both.”

  “And I shall do the same for ye. Both of ye,” Shana whispered in her ear, making Davina giggle softly.

  Clyde, the surprisingly large man who rarely spoke, had groomed the horse for them. “God be with ye,” he murmured, a bit shy and soft-spoken for one of his size. Shana wondered if there was any end to the surprises these strangers held.

  They were no longer strangers, she reminded herself as William helped her into the saddle. They were friends. Perhaps her first friends, and now, she hoped they would not be her last.

  A funny thing, that. She’d never considered friendship before. She had her family, both those closest to her and her extended cousins and such. They were all they needed. Close-knit, protective of each other, unwilling to leave themselves vulnerable to the abuse of outsiders.