The Runaway Highlander (The Highland Renegades Book 2)

by Syme, R. L.

  Anne held her sobbing sister and tried her best not to make eye contact with her mother. Tension was high enough in the room still that the slightest misspoken word might end for Milene de Cheyne as it had ended for Simon Alcock.

  She did manage a glance at Aedan, who appeared to be watching Milene like a jailer. Warmth pooled in her chest and she reached out a hand toward him.

  Without taking his eyes off her mother, Aedan grasped her hand and moved closer to the two girls. Anne hadn’t felt this safe perhaps in her entire life. He really was her Aedan.

  Elena sobbed into her shoulder and sagged against her. After a few moments, Anne pulled on Aedan’s hand and he helped the two of them to their feet. They circled around Milene, cutting three jagged shadows in the light that fell on her from the door.

  “Kill me if you will,” Milene finally said. She stepped away from the wall and lifted her chin. “You’re all going to hang for the Sheriff’s murder, anyway. And the collusion in the escape of the prisoners.”

  “No one is going to kill you.” Anne tried to muster some force behind that promise, but she felt so tentatively certain. “At least not at this moment.”

  Milene crossed her arms and the long curtain of her blonde hair feathered behind her as she shook it out. “Why not?”

  “Because we’re going to leave this place and you are our mother. So we’ll let you live.” Anne mimicked her mother’s crossed arms and defiant glare. “But you’re going to do as you are told. Or we will come back for you.”

  Milene took a step away from the wall and walked back and forth in front of the window. “And what, precisely, am I supposed to do?”

  The pacing unnerved Anne and she drew Elena closer into her side, as though Milene might pounce at any moment.

  Aedan turned back to the Sheriff and picked up his sword, wiping it on the man’s grey tunic to clean the blood. He then faced Milene with the sword pointing out toward her, following her on her back and forth movement.

  Anne gathered her courage. “You’re going to let us escape, first. You’re going to give us everything of value that you have on your person currently, second. You’re not going to give chase, third. And when the men arrive, you’re going to tell them that the Sheriff was killed by accident when he turned his sword on his own men.”

  “One of those men still lives,” Aedan said. Anne glanced over at the soldier near the door and saw the movement of his stomach. “We can’t kill him now.”

  “Can we take him with us?”

  Aedan shook his head. “I only have transportation for the three of us.”

  “I have my horse, still.” Anne gestured back toward the kitchens, where she’d left the poor thing.

  “I’m including your horse in that plan.”

  They both returned their attention to the Countess. She’d drawn herself to her full height and towered over Anne, extending a long finger in her direction. “Your sister is going to hang for what she did, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Aedan’s sword point was suddenly at her throat. “Don’t tempt me to kill you, Countess. For I would rather be in the dungeon myself than see your daughters held captive by your sickness one minute longer.”

  For the first time in Anne’s recollection, her mother’s face collapsed in fear. Once proud features now faced death and crumbled at the thought.

  Aedan left the sword up as warning and Anne moved toward her mother, leaving Elena to Aedan’s care.

  “You have never been a real mother to us, and I know you don’t care for either of us, other than what we can bring you, so here’s what we’re going to do.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Anne only laughed at the derision in her mother’s voice. “Has the Sheriff already settled the treasury on you?”

  Milene’s eyes dropped to the floor. Aedan’s sword moved forward just a touch and she winced, nodding. “I have the trunks in my room.”

  “You can keep the money.” Anne’s heart sank as the light of greed spread over her mother’s face. Any hope she’d held that the promise of Anne and Elena’s death would bring repentance to the Countess’ heart was quickly extinguished. With tears forming in the corners of her eyes, Anne reached for the purse at her mother’s waist. Any protest she might have offered was squelched by Aedan’s sword.

  “We’ll take only what you have on you, and what clothes we can carry on our backs.” Anne fingered the chain around her mother’s neck. This must have been a gift from the Sheriff, as it appeared to bear the marks of being made for a man. The links of the chain were large and crudely connected, but looked to be made of solid gold. At the end of the chain hung a heavy amulet, a gold circle with a green stone at the center. Some words had been etched into the circlet, but Anne couldn’t read them—they must have been in Latin or some foreign tongue.

  She pulled the chain until it wrapped up in the Countess’ hair and then slid free and down the length of Aedan’s sword. The purse was heavy enough, Anne thought there was probably a hundred pieces of silver even in that. Perhaps more.

  “And what do I tell the men when they return?” Milene asked, glancing down at the sword edge.

  “Tell them whatever you like.” Anne backed up until she felt the strength of Aedan’s chest behind her and she leaned into him.

  “And you’ll, what? Run away with a deformed man and a lunatic sister?” Milene laughed.

  Anne felt Aedan tense behind her. “You don’t know him, mother. He’s more of a man than anyone you’ll ever meet.”

  “I don’t doubt he has to be, looking like that.”

  Anne’s pulse rushed and she put her hand on Aedan’s arm. “Don’t listen to her, Aedan. She’s just trying to get you to do something stupid so she can escape.”

  Milene cackled a laugh. “You have more of me than you think, daughter. What a brilliant plan to manipulate this poor fool into thinking you love him. He’ll never see it coming when you disappear with my money and leave him to take the punishment that belongs to your poor, idiot sister.”

  “Say what you want, mother. We’re not listening.” Anne tightened her grip on Aedan’s arm and leaned back into his chest again, looking up at him.

  The determination in his face told her two things. He wasn’t going to do anything to rise to the bait. And. He believed her mother. Deep down, he believed Anne would leave him. The uncertainty lined his eyes, even as his jaw was set in determination.

  What she wouldn’t give to take back her actions of the last week and just have the opportunity to make Aedan trust her again. But she’d ruined that. Maybe forever.

  “He’s not stupid, Anne. This is a smart one you’ve picked.” Milene’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. “You’d better hope he doesn’t double-cross you in the end.”

  “That’s enough out of you, woman.” Aedan’s voice was full of barely-leashed fury. “You’re going to stay silent until we’re gone.”

  “They’re never going to believe me when I tell them you killed the Sheriff if you leave me here.” Milene’s arm shot out and her hand latched onto Anne’s wrist.

  Anne freed her other hand, knowing Aedan was in control, and plucked at her mother’s strong fingers. “Stop, Mother.”

  But the scuffle brought her mother’s throat into contact with the sword and a tiny line of blood leaked out. Aedan immediately dropped the weapon. Had that been what she wanted all along? For Aedan to cut her throat?

  As Anne struggled with her mother, scenarios sailed through her head of all the things that might happen, especially if her mother died. This could ruin everything she had planned.

  Just as Milene’s fingers closed around Anne’s throat, Anne heard a thud and the Countess went slack. She fell to the ground, a puddle of blonde hair and wool dress.

  “Now they’ll believe her innocent of any wrong.” Aedan sighed and sheathed his sword, then caught Elena in his arms. He knew even before she did that she would faint.

  Anne looked at him in wonder. This m
an. Whatever wrong he had done to deserve her, she thanked the good God that he had. The more she saw of him, the more she was convinced she couldn’t live without him.

  *****

  Aedan’s arms were sore by the time they reached Molnar’s home. The moon was nearly invisible, in its last phase of light, and he’d almost taken a torch when they left the castle. But they’d managed to go slow enough on the two horses that they avoided the danger spots and made it within sight of the cave before the moon disappeared and left them in the absolute pitch black.

  He held Elena in his arms and wore the heavy chain around his neck. More than that, Elena held a pack of clothing and personal belongings that weighed almost as much as she did. Anne had been so frantic that she’d taken nearly everything they could carry. And forgotten they’d have to carry it for miles even after they got it down to the horses.

  “Wait,” Anne called out. “There’s a cart at Molnar’s. He must have someone with him.”

  “He does.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for them to leave? We are fugitives, after all.” Anne’s voice was dry and mirthless. They’d been fighting about the next course of action for most of the ride after they were sure no one followed them out of the city.

  Aedan’s argument remained thus. They were fugitives. They couldn’t run back to Aedan’s father, or to Anne’s. They couldn’t even run to Andrew or Broccin who, if the Sheriff knew their names, would be fugitives as well.

  Granted, now the Sheriff was dead, who knew what would become of the vendetta against the renegade Highlanders. New magistrates were famous for pardoning criminals their predecessor had failed to secure in an effort to gain favor with the townspeople or those in the shire.

  “We can’t wait for them to leave.”

  “Surely, we can’t risk them recognizing us.”

  “The cart is mine.” Aedan’s frustration mounted, but not necessarily with Anne. He’d forgotten to mention that Brighde was waiting for them, or that she’d even come back with him, let alone that she was pregnant and something of a fugitive herself.

  At least their imprisoning parent still lived. He hoped that the quick-made bandage would save Milene de Cheyne’s life, but it had been her own fault, lunging at them with his sword at her neck.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Anne laughed. “At least we won’t have to carry all our worldly belongings on our backs.”

  Aedan shrugged. “I brought it from home.” He pulled his horse to a stop as they reached the edge of the cart. Elena stirred awake and he took the pack from her still blood-stained hands.

  The memory of seeing her standing behind the Sheriff’s lifeless body would stay with him forever. He had assumed, when he saw the delicate hands holding that dagger, that it had been Anne. Having killed men before, Aedan didn’t wish that on her, not with what she’d already suffered.

  But Elena. She would never live out the breadth of that moment. It would torment her more so than it would have Anne. He knew that the moment he saw her wide, tearless eyes. The poor girl would be haunted by that terror until death took her.

  He wished he’d been able to save her from that.

  Aedan dismounted, then pulled Elena from the saddle and put her upright on her feet. She balked at first, but then straightened and stared up at him.

  “Is it time for sleep?” She yawned and leaned back against Aedan’s chest. He glanced up at Anne.

  “We can’t stay here. She’ll have to sleep in the cart.”

  Anne nodded. “I’m awake. I can ride.”

  Aedan took a deep breath. “We’ll have one more person with us on the journey.”

  “Molnar?” Anne wondered. A cloud passed over her face. “He’s going to be so furious with me.”

  “It’s not Molnar.” Aedan leaned Elena against the cart and tied his horse to the back. He helped Anne to the ground. “And I believe his fury has likely abated.”

  “Who is it?”

  Aedan pulled the blanket off Anne’s horse and put all of her stolen tack in the cart. He walked her horse to the front of the cart and strapped the beast into the yoke.

  “It’s my very pregnant sister,” he finally said.

  “Brighde?” Anne came around the front of the cart, Elena wobbling on her arm. “We’re running from soldiers in two directions, my sister’s just killed a man, I’ve stolen from my own mother, and you want to bring your very pregnant sister with us when we are escaped criminals?”

  Aedan couldn’t argue with her assessment of the situation. It was accurate, if simplistic.

  “You don’t understand the situation. I couldn’t leave her there. If you’d seen…”

  Anne stopped him, her face softening. “Of course. I’m sorry. After we nearly die rescuing my sister, I shouldn’t be so hasty to judge you for wanting to rescue your own.”

  “Thank you.”

  They started for the door in the side of the hill, but Anne stopped him. Afraid it would be more chastising, Aedan tried to keep walking. Her hands, however, were insistent.

  Her soft voice sent rivers of desire through him. “That was why it took you so long to get here, isn’t it?” Her eyes turned down in concerned sorrow. “And why you keep insisting we go to France. You want her to be somewhere that she can be safe from your father.”

  He placed his fingertips gently on the side of Anne’s face, then fully cupped her head and pulled her toward him. The kiss was short, but with her open acceptance of him, so passionate.

  One of these damn days, he was just going to kiss the argument out of her, and enjoy the hell out of it. For the time being, they had to make all haste.

  “I want to protect all of you.” Aedan had never felt this much raw emotion before and thought his body might not contain it. He wanted to gather all three of them in his arms and carry them to safety. But he didn’t know exactly what safety looked like anymore.

  In order to protect Elena, they all had to hide, and he couldn’t think of anywhere they could safely accomplish that in this country. Anne would never be able to live in England, and their only option to have a chance at keeping Elena from the law and Brighde from his father was to put an ocean between them.

  He’d never imagined leaving Scotland. But there looked to be no choice. They had to leave.

  The door was lighter than he remembered, or he was getting stronger. He moved it easily aside. Molnar and Brighde sat at the table, with a flickering fire around the corner lighting the cave, each holding the end of a large piece of cloth.

  “This thread here,” Molnar was saying, “is the precise color I want to pick up in the plates.”

  Brighde’s bright eyes met his and she rose from her chair, dropping the cloth. “Oh, Aedan! Molnar is going to make me a plate to replace the one…” she stopped, looking from Anne to Elena. “You were successful?”

  She raced forward and grasped Elena’s bloody hands. “Oh, my dear. Are you well?”

  Anne reached for Brighde’s belly and put one hand on her shoulder. “Please, don’t put yourself out on our account. We don’t want to endanger the baby.”

  A bubble of happiness began deep in Aedan’s stomach and fluttered up into his throat. Seeing Anne and Brighde holding hands was just about the most beautiful thing he’d ever hoped to see. The two women he loved the most in the world, together. Safe.

  If he could have frozen that moment, he would be able to die a happy man.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anne sat on the side of the strange bed in Molnar’s cave and wiped at her sister’s forehead. She hadn’t realized just how pregnant Brighde would be and once she saw Aedan’s near-to-burst sister, she knew they would need to re-think their plans.

  She cleaned the last of the blood from Elena’s hands and smiled up at Brighde, who watched them from the table. Molnar and Aedan were around the corner, wrapping food for their journey. Anne had paid Molnar well for the supplies they planned to take. Much more than they were worth. But that was the guilt.

  “
You are so much more beautiful than Aedan led me to believe.” Brighde’s voice had a lyric quality, as though she might be a singer. She had the same bright, dark eyes that Aedan had, and the same strong cheekbones. But where Aedan’s mouth was full, supple, and his cheeks cut in rugged lines, Brighde had a delicate jaw with a small mouth. She was beautiful in the same way Aedan was handsome. Their strength was evident in their features.

  Of course, Anne didn’t dream of kissing Brighde’s mouth the way she did Aedan’s. And Brighde didn’t have the long, jagged scar covering one side of her face. But in Brighde’s face, Anne saw what Aedan might have looked like as a boy.

  If given the choice, she would pick him just the way he was. The more she fell in love with Aedan, the more she came to love his scar as well. It gave his face a frightening character that thrilled her from crown to toe.

  It reminded her of his virility as a warrior. His dedication and loyalty. His fierce protectiveness. All the things she was growing to love about him.

  She loved his scar, just as she loved the man who wore it. No man could wear it with such distinction.

  One day, she would be able to tell him these things in her heart. The very next time they were alone, she would tell him.

  He deserved to know them.

  “You’re thinking about Aedan, aren’t you?” Brighde’s amusement was obvious on her pretty face. “You look like a woman in love.”

  Anne smiled and glanced toward the fire. She saw Aedan’s tunic peeking around the edge of the cave wall, no doubt where his strong shoulders cut out from the rest of him.

  “You should convince your brother of that.”

  Brighde’s mirth disappeared with stunning swiftness. “I hope that doesn’t keep you from telling him.”

  “He won’t believe me.” Anne remembered the look on his face when her mother said Anne could never love him. He hadn’t wanted to believe her mother, but he did. She saw the conflict on his face, in his eyes.

  “Don’t stop trying to convince him.” Brighde leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “He loves slowly because it hurts not to be loved back.”