A Highlander's Gypsy (Highland Temptations Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  Richard’s laugh cut through the fog of confusion. “Everyone knows Jacob Stuart is searching the entire country for the gypsy who escaped his dungeon.”

  “How could I send word? We were all but chased throughout the Highlands. I could not risk anyone getting hold of my message. There are men riding throughout the day and night, hoping to collect the bounty on her head.” So long as Richard did not know why Stuart had held her, they were on solid ground. He could breathe more easily now.

  “And ye brought her here.”

  “Where else was I to bring her? Or do ye believe I would have done better to leave her in the woods?”

  Richard paced to and fro, rubbing his hands together. “I dinna believe that, and ye know it. I would not ask ye to leave a defenseless woman, no matter who she is.”

  “What do ye mean by that?”

  “Och, come now.” He scowled. “I will not pretend I’ve ever been on close terms with one of her kind, but I’ve heard enough of what they can do.”

  “I’ve never heard ye speak so before.”

  “I’ve never had reason to.” Richard held up his hands in defense. “Dinna scold me. I’m not a wee bairn for ye to tell how to speak. I’m certain she’s a good sort if ye felt it was wise to bring her home. But what of her family? What if they find out ye brought her here? Do ye know they will not come for her? What if they think they can lay siege to my castle the way they raided villages to the south?”

  William reeled again. So word had reached this far north. “What do ye mean by that?” he dared ask, wondering as he did whether he ought to uphold the pretense of ignorance.

  “Come now. Everyone knows of the gypsy raiders,” Richard scoffed. “I knew she was one of them and put everything together the moment I laid eyes on her. I’m surprised ye did not do the same—unless ye did,” he added, eyes narrowing.

  “I suspected,” William lied, scrambling now to keep up. “But she was just as obstinate with me as she’s been with ye.”

  “Yet ye rode with her?”

  “What else was I to do, if she is the one I was meant to help?”

  “Why her? Are ye certain ye found the right lass? She doesn’t deserve what ye did for her—if she had not been part of the raids, she never would have been taken prisoner.”

  “That’s not for ye to say. And no matter what they did or did not do, she had no part of it, and she did not deserve the treatment she received.” He briefly described the condition she’d been in when he found her. “The man is nothing but a beast.”

  Richard grunted, his brows drawing together over his nose. “That may well be, but now you’ve brought me into this, and I would rather not be part of it. If I had known…”

  “If ye had known? Ye were the one who thought it so important I go. Now, ye tell me I ought not to have done what I set out to do.”

  “Rescuing the lass and bringing her here, bringing this all on our heads. That is not what ye set out to do, and it is not what I told the captain of my guard he could take time away from his duties to do.”

  “I see.” William stared at his friend as though he’d never seen him before then. Perhaps he never had. “Ye dinna mind treating me as a brother so long as it suits ye. I was unaware until now.”

  “Dinna turn this around on me,” Richard hissed. “Ye know how I feel about ye, and that I see ye as more than a guard. But this is about our safety, which is your obligation to maintain. You’ve put us all in jeopardy because ye didna think about what bringing her here could mean. And now, she will not even deign to tell me her name. I’ve never been so insulted, and by someone of her kind at that.”

  “If ye make mention of her kind once more, we will part in anger, and I dinna want that,” William warned, his voice a low growl. “I dinna wish to see this come between us, but I must ask ye to pay heed.”

  “As she has paid heed to me? Forgive me, William, if I dinna care much at the moment. She disrespected me beneath my own roof, on my land, when she owes me her life. Perhaps ye ought to speak to her, rather than scolding me.”

  “That is precisely what I ought to do,” William mused. “I’ll speak to her. I dinna know why she refuses to tell anyone her name—why she still feels she must protect her kinsmen when she’ll likely not see them again.”

  “Aye. Ye might remind her who her loyalties ought to belong to now.” Richard turned away to pour another mug, leaving William all but dismissed. He knew this was the end of the discussion until he returned with good news.

  Which meant convincing Tara, or whatever her name happened to be, to speak openly of herself from now on.

  He did not like his chances.

  21

  One of the many skills Shana had made a point of mastering was the art of moving about silently, unnoticed. It helped when Manfri needed her to act as lookout for him and the others.

  She made use of this once her guard left her alone, slipping from the impressive, comfortable bedchamber and tiptoeing in the direction from which she’d come. It was not much work to find the room where the men had gone to argue over her.

  Their voices could be heard even from where she crept, one floor above them.

  Pressed close to the wall, she dashed down the wide, stone stairs and darted through the entry hall—avoiding running beneath the heavy, iron fixture hanging from a chain above her head, holding thick candles which dripped wax on the floor—before turning the corner and tiptoeing down toward the closed door from behind which she heard the argument coming.

  “You’ve put us all in jeopardy because ye didna think about what bringing her here could mean.” That would be Laird Richard, who had not much impressed her during their brief meeting. A bully, through and through, thinking just because a man had brought her to his home meant she owed him the world.

  Never mind her need to protect her family. Never mind him not knowing anything of the hardship her life had been.

  William was having none of it, which came as a surprise. He spoke up for her even in front of his good friend. His laird. It was clear to her after watching them together that a great deal of affection existed between there.

  Even so, he spoke up for her. What did that mean?

  “I’ve never been so insulted, and by someone of her kind at that.”

  Her blood ran cold at this. Yes, she’d seen it on his face. His surprise, his distrust. Right from the start. Davina’s face had born the same expression when she’d first laid eyes on Shana.

  Every tale she’d ever heard of what Shana and her kinsmen were capable of had come to mind, all at once.

  Only Davina’s expression had changed. She’d decided to pay no heed to those tales.

  Richard had done no such thing. He’d merely put on a false smile, told her to feel welcome, when he did not wish for her to feel any such way.

  And he wondered why she had not given him what he wanted. As if she would do any such thing when he looked at her that way.

  “Aye. Ye might remind her who her loyalties ought to belong to now.” Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Shana was careful to stay in the shadows when William emerged from the room. He closed the door before letting out a heavy sigh, his shoulders falling, his head dropping between his shoulders.

  Guilt struck her heart then. He deserved better than the welcome he’d received after what he’d done for her.

  This was her fault. Even Richard could not be blamed for his reaction—after all, this was his castle, these were his people, and he was the man on whom everyone behind the castle’s walls depended. His decisions, his protection, they relied on him.

  He could only think about them. It was natural.

  William, however. He had spent his life thinking as Richard had. Putting his time and skill toward keeping the lands safe from outside threats. Now?

  Now, he looked and sounded like a defeated man.

  She stepped out of the shadows. “William.”

  He turned with a start. “Och. Ye ought not startle a man so. N
ot after everything we’ve been through.”

  “I did not mean to startle you,” she said by way of apology. “I only wished to hear…”

  He winced. “How much of it did ye hear, then?”

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Not very much.”

  “Liar.” His smile was a tired one. Weak. A vague attempt at best. “But thank ye for trying to spare me. I wish ye had spared yourself.”

  “I have heard much worse.”

  He held a finger to his lips, then motioned for her to follow him. When they were away from the study, he asked, “Where are your chambers?”

  She pointed up the stairs. He led the way.

  “I ought not have come,” she whispered, half to herself, shaking her head as they climbed.

  “Dinna tell me I’m going to have to deal with ye as well,” William growled. “Arguing with one of ye is enough of a chore, thank ye kindly.”

  “This is not right. I wish you had told me—”

  They stopped at the top of the stairs, with William turning and taking her by the shoulders. He even shook her slightly, though she understood it might only have been his hands shaking. He might not have intended to shake her at all. He could barely contain himself.

  “I did what I did, and I had my reasons for behaving as I did. I explained many of them to ye along the way. How could I tell ye where we were headed? How could I warn Richard we were coming? What I do, my duty here, depends on my making the right decisions after taking account of all sides of a problem. Ye understand that, do ye not?”

  She could only nod, the pressure of his hands and the fierce burning in his eyes almost too much to bear. His desperation. He wanted so badly for her to understand him.

  For someone to understand.

  “Until now, that has been enough. Richard certainly thought so, or else I would not hold my post.” He released her, eyes widening as if he realized for the first time that he’d taken hold of her at all. “Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” No matter the way her shoulders now ached from his grasp, the pressure from his fingers still throbbing in her muscles.

  His hands dropped to his sides. “Now? He is the one who insisted I go. I dinna know if he took the seer at her word or if he believed in any of what she said, but I do believe he wanted what was best for me. No matter what happens, he has my best interests at heart. I must believe that. He’s like my own brother.”

  “I could see it.”

  “Neither of us had a brother or sister, ye ken. We grew up here, together, in this house. On these lands. We both inherited our fathers’ positions on their death. Yet he never treated me as a lesser until this verra day. I dinna know what to think about that.”

  Her chest clenched at the sight of doubt, hurt, questions in his eyes. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I could have told you, though, had you warned me where we were going?”

  “Och, how could ye know?”

  The look she’d seen on Richard’s face… “I know people. I’m accustomed to the way they react to me. Even if my mother was not who she was, I would still be an outlaw seeking protection here. I bring trouble along with me either way.”

  “But he is a good man. Ye must believe that.”

  “I do.” The words soured in her mouth. Yes, she believed Laird Richard to be good and honorable. He was merely doing his best in a terrible situation which his best friend had placed him in. She would have thought him much better if he hadn’t held the fact of her blood against her.

  “Which is why…” He looked down at his feet, his chest rising and falling in time with his heavy sigh. “I believe ye ought to be honest with him. Answer his questions truthfully. There is no harm can come to ye now.”

  Only the fact that a dozen guards would come on the run, at least, kept her from screaming and boxing his ears. For one brief, satisfying moment, she imagined pushing him down the stairs and listening with great enjoyment as his bones cracked on striking each solid stone slab.

  “Ye just agreed he is a good man!” William hissed when he took note of the color rising in her cheeks. “Ye only just agreed!”

  “That does not mean I will betray my people! What is wrong with you?” She pushed him out of her way—it was not the same as throwing him down the stairs, but there was still satisfaction in moving his large, solid body, and stormed down the corridor to where her bedchamber awaited.

  “What is wrong with me?” he whispered as he came up behind. “Ye are the one making this an impossible situation. All ye need do is give him what he wants.”

  Her laughter was sharp, knowing. “All my life, that is what I’ve done. Given men such as Laird Richard and yourself what you want. Nay, I dinna mean what ye think I mean,” she spat when he made a choking noise, “but I have been smiling when I wanted to claw their eyes out. I’ve pretended not to care when they laughed at me, when they taunted me and held gold coins out to me with promises of how easy it would be to have those coins for myself. I wanted to push them into our campfire and dance around them as they flailed and screamed in agony, yet I could not. I had to pretend.”

  They arrived at her room, where she stopped before going inside. “Now, you ask me to do the same thing. Because I want the comfort and safety of this place, I have to give in.”

  “’Tis called compromise in this case. And ‘tis what people do. No one is holding a gold coin out to ye. No one is taunting ye. All anyone is striving to do now is make things right for both sides. Richard does not wish to take back his pledge of protection.”

  “Ah. But he will if I force him to do so. Is that what you mean to say?” She glared at him, daring him to look away and prove her correct. “Well? Is it?”

  “I know him,” was all William would reply.

  “And yet you brought me here, knowing I could never betray—”

  “It would not be a betrayal!” he spat, then, his eyes widened. “Do ye recall how ye flew off in a wild tirade in the woods that day?”

  “A wild tirade.” She did not appreciate his choice of words, nor did she understand why he would bring up any such incident.

  “Aye. When ye thought I was holding back from ye because I intended to do ye wrong. Do ye recall? Ye thought I was keeping ye to myself that I might collect the ransom on your head.”

  Understanding dawned. “I do remember that.”

  “It was because I would not simply speak the truth that ye believed the worst about me. And now, the same is true. Richard believes the worst of ye because ye will not tell him your name or anything of your people. Ye could end this right now by going to him and telling him the truth.”

  She hated him for being right. She hated Richard more. Damn them both for cornering her as they had with their false promises of security. Nothing was free—had she not learned that as a wee lass? If a person wished for security, they had to sacrifice their freedom in one way or another.

  “How do I know he will not report their names to your lawmen?” she challenged. “How can I trust him?”

  “I will vouch for him.”

  “That isn’t good enough.” When he winced as though she’d stung him, she willed herself not to soften. Good. Let him sting for a bit. He needed to learn how it felt.

  He might have exploded on her then, might have unleashed the full extent of his frustrated fury. He might have thrown her into her room and locked the door and ordered her to think hard on her decision while starving.

  In short, he might have behaved as Jacob Stuart had.

  Instead, he shrugged. “It will have to be good enough, for it is all I can offer. Tell him what he wishes to know. Meet him halfway. Compromise. Or else I canna promise he will continue to offer his protection. I canna force him any more than I can force ye. I can only hope ye are both smart enough not to do something incredibly stupid.”

  “And what of you, then?” she challenged. It wasn’t right to do it. She knew she ought to leave him alone—he was suffering enough, and it showed on his
face. Every worried line had been etched by disappointment.

  “What of me?”

  “What would you do if he ordered me off his land?”

  “He will not.”

  “He might.”

  “Ye have the power to keep that from happening. Och, ye stubborn, willful fool!” He slammed his palm against the wall, then touched his forehead to the cool stone. “Why do ye insist on making everything more difficult than it need be?” he whispered, closing his eyes.

  She reached for him, but pulled back before her fingers brushed his tunic. “I must do what I believe is right, just as your Laird Richard must do the same. It pains me that this pains you so.”

  “Och, I’m certain.”

  “It does. William, look at me.”

  He took his time about opening his eyes, looking at her from beneath lowered brows. His too-long hair fell in front of his face, concealing the distress there, and she brushed it back from his forehead with a trembling hand. She deserved to see what she’d done to him.

  And she wished to look upon him.

  “It does pain me,” she whispered, brushing more of his hair away from his face. Oh, but he had a lovely face. Handsome, a pleasure to look upon. “You have done so much for me, and all I’ve managed to do is bring you distress. Forgive me for that. I cannot help being who I am, how I am. I dinna wish to make you miserable. But I cannot turn my back on my kin, knowing what the risk of revealing them could be, for you. Not even for myself, or else I would have spared myself quite a lot when Stuart kidnapped me. If I did not reveal what he wished to know then, what makes you think I would do it now?”

  “Because all we want is to help ye.”

  “Perhaps… perhaps you’ve done all you can, and it is time for me to go forth on my own.”

  “I canna believe that. I dinna think ye believe it, either.”

  She did not believe it. She had no desire to do any such thing. Being alone meant being vulnerable. Open to attack. A woman traveling alone, especially one with her dark coloring, all but hung an invitation around her neck for all manner of low, licentious creatures to take advantage.