He shook his head. “It will capsize.”
“Here,” Bess cried, throwing a small barrel over the side. “It floats.”
Shaw swam to it, avoiding the one Frenchman’s oar. “Turn around,” he yelled up at him, pointing out into the bay to head north toward the shore of the castle ruins.
“Quoi?” he asked, shaking his head.
“You need to row that way,” Alana said, pointing toward the ruins of St. Andrews.
“Non,” the other crewmember said, and started to push his oar through the water.
“Mousquet,” Shaw yelled, pointing toward the bow. His mother had long ago started teaching him French, but he knew very little. He’d never regretted avoiding his mother’s French lessons more than right that very moment.
The man still shook his head, determined to row the shortest way to the dock. Shaw, kicking hard, surged upward and grabbed the man’s oar, yanking it out of his hands to throw in the water. The sailor started yelling obvious curses while the other started rowing again in Wendall’s direction.
The cold was penetrating Shaw’s muscles, making it harder for him to work, and the small barrel had floated away when he let go to grab the oar. One of the women above him in the boat gasped, and he heard Alana’s words slice through the sounds of chaos around them.
“He said row that way,” she said, her words punctuated and full of deadly determination. He glanced above to see her holding her sgian dubh in her throwing hand aimed at the rowing crewmember.
With the bairn still tied to her chest, Alana was the powerful image of a warrior mother, saving her child. In her other hand, she clutched her hair stick, its deadly point lodged at the back of the first sailor’s neck. One shove upward and she’d pierce his brain. Something he apparently realized as he started to yell at the other man who bobbed his head. His oar pulled to the side, turning the nose of the little boat around.
Alana threw a rope over the side toward Shaw, and he grabbed it. He needed to swim to keep the blood flowing through his numbing body. Sliding on top of the water, he began to slice through the small waves, concentrating on keeping his legs moving toward the ruins.
She yelled something to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the water flooding his ears. Keep swimming. Keep going. He didn’t care how numb he grew, he would keep swimming, for he needed to hear the words Alana had said on the ship.
I love you. Had she meant them, or had fear, panic, and then relief that he’d come to help pushed the words onto her tongue? Damn if he’d die not knowing. The hope that there might be forgiveness within Alana kept his legs kicking, his arms swinging overhead to cut through the choppy, icy water. He’d seen men die in the cold ocean off of Sinclair land, even in the summer, their strokes slowing until they sank, falling into the sleep of death in the ocean depths.
Bloody hell. Not me. Not when Alana had said she loved him. I love you. I love you. The three simple words began to take on the cadence of his strokes as he pushed himself to keep up with the rowboat. Its zigzag pattern, due to the single oar, slowed its progress across to the rocks tumbling at the base of the castle.
The water cleared his ear as he tipped his face to gulp another breath, and Alana’s voice sang to him. “Keep going.” He stroked, right, left, tipping up again. “Almost there.”
He looked through the water swamping his eyes to see the rocky coastline. God, let Wendall’s men have already taken Dixon’s body. Or would they be there, ready to shoot them anyway?
But with the cold slowing him, there was no other option but to climb out of the brutal waters. His bare foot hit something, but the numbness made it impossible to distinguish. Rocks or sand, he didn’t care and let his legs drop to walk out of the bay. He looked up to see Alistair standing there, his arms outstretched to haul him up onto the rocks. Logan, soot on his face and hair singed, held a blanket.
“Dammit, Shaw! Take my hand,” Alistair yelled. “We both know I was foking wrong.”
The rowboat lodged up against the shore, and the Roses surged forward to help Alana and the others out. He turned back to Alistair and grabbed his hand, letting him pull him out of the North Sea’s grip. “Wendall?” Shaw asked.
“I knew ye would be coming over here,” Alistair said as Logan came up to throw the blanket over Shaw. “So, we ran over here and dragged Dixon and his men up to the front of the castle. Wendall’s men already collected them.”
Shaw watched Alana hand Rose to Rabbie and run toward him, the Roses following right behind her.
“I told him I saw the ladies and babes die in the flames when I went down to get the horses,” Logan said, yanking a hand through his blackened hair. Guilt still sat heavy in the lines around his eyes. He carried Shaw’s discarded boots and Sinclair sword. “I used enough curses that I think he believed me.” He set the items on the ground, the cleaned sword and scabbard balanced on the boots.
“And we all started screaming and crying,” the usually-smiling student, Cici MacInnes, said. Kirstin and Kerrick were wet, blankets around them, and Violet Campbell stood close by, her hands clasped, tears running down her cheeks. Robert, the end of his leash dragging behind him, circled them.
Alana reached for Shaw, her hands warm against his cheeks. “You are freezing.”
“And ye are warm,” he said, his hand catching one of hers.
Her green eyes were full of worry. “We need to get you dry, give you feverfew just in case.”
He leaned in closer. “And then we need to talk. No running away. No climbing on a ship to France.” His words were low, gruff.
Boom! Shaw felt the impact through the ground as the ship exploded out in the bay. Alana jumped toward him, and he caught her in his arms as she craned her neck behind her to see the burning debris rain down. Shaw ached to pull her completely in, surrounding her so that nothing could hurt or scare her again. He breathed deeply, his gaze covering her from the tight curls about her face where the ocean spray beaded to the strength in her stance. Every detail about Alana Campbell dug into him, tethering him to her.
“Colonel Wendall did this?” she asked, turning back to face him.
He nodded. “The English monarchy is going to tumble soon if one of James’s Colonel-Commandants is killing his heirs.”
There was no sign of Wendall or his men, apparently eager to leave the traitorous scene. No doubt, he would tell the king and queen that their daughter had perished in the fire. Hopefully he would keep his word about the Sinclairs dutifully bringing her to the ship.
Rabbie cradled Rose against him, trying to calm her after the blast. Within his kilt were the papers granting the lands and castle back to the Sinclairs. Aye, they had the papers, but at what cost? He no longer trusted his two closest men. They had almost been killed, leaving their clan without leaders and their best warriors. And Alana’s mother hated them. But Alana was holding onto him, and they’d saved three innocent bairns. Och, he was suddenly weary. Very weary.
The two French crewmen started to walk off. “Does anyone speak French?” Shaw called out, motioning to Mungo who raced after them, stopping them with his sword out. The men paused, looking back in alarm.
One of the Rose students held up her hand: Lucy Kellington the Englishwoman. “I do.”
“Tell them not to speak of the women and infants,” Shaw said. “If asked, they are to say they died in the fire. Otherwise…” Shaw turned his lethal stare on the men. “I will hunt them down, and they will never speak another word again.”
Shaw kept his features hard as stone while the woman spoke to the men in a rolling cadence. They each bobbed their head. Only then did Mungo lower his sword, and they hurried toward the docks where soggy men stood, gesturing wildly at the burning remains of the Queen’s Song, and dripping horses shook their manes. LeFevre was nowhere to be seen. Had the French captain been on board when the gunpowder exploded? He’d also trusted Colonel Wendall.
The other two wet nurses hurried over to them. Bess held her baby close. “This child is
my widowed sister’s. She lives in the country and doesn’t talk to anyone. I would take her home and help to raise her safely. No one will know she lived.”
The older of the two had tears in her eyes. “I am Alyce. I have no home, nowhere to go. I was promised a comfortable life in France for me and my baby, but that is impossible now.”
There were so many issues, details to consider, people to help. ’Twas the burden of being the Sinclair chief, but helping people was also a gift. He hadn’t been able to help his mother or his sister, but he could help his countrymen, women, and their bairns.
Alana squeezed his hand and turned outward next to him, as if they were one. “You have both been exceedingly brave, and we will make certain that the best possible outcome be awarded you.” Alana sounded like a queen or a Highland chief’s wife. The thought flared through him.
More tears flowed out of Alyce’s eyes, and the two ladies nodded, clinging to one another. Rose’s cry brought Rabbie closer. “She will not calm. I think she is hungry,” he said.
“Too much going on around her,” Kirstin said, peeking over his shoulder as she clutched the wool blanket at her chin. She wiped a finger under her eye and smiled at Alana, coming forward to hug her. “I know how she feels.”
“You are wet,” Alana said.
“I jumped in to swim to the boat when the fire started,” Kirstin said and glanced at Shaw. “Just in case the brawny Highland warrior needed some help.” Her lips tipped upward in something of a wry smile. A truce perhaps?
“I had to pull her back to shore,” Kerrick said, shaking his head, his hair spreading water about.
Rose continued to fuss. Alana opened her arms to take her, but before Rabbie could give her the bairn, Violet Campbell threw herself into the middle of them. Shaw stepped back as the two wrapped their arms around each other.
Alana’s mother openly sobbed. “I thought…I thought ye would die.” She pulled back, her cracked, dry hands cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “I am so sorry. I…I thought all had forgotten me. I was desperate to get home. Major Dixon saw through my blind woman act and said that if I did not help him get rid of the Catholic heir that he would reveal me. But if I helped him, he would see me free to return to Finlarig.”
“Shhhh…” Alana said, pulling her mother close again. “It is well now. I am so sorry that we did not know. We would have come right away.” She held her hand out with the ring on it. “They sent your wedding band back with Da. We thought that meant you were dead, too.” Violet looked at her hand where the ring sat and clasped Alana in another hug.
Waaaaa! Rose would not settle. “Bring her here,” Shaw said and held his arms out for the wee bairn. She was likely wet and hungry, and nothing but Alana would help.
“There now, lass,” Shaw said as he took the bairn up. His deep voice seemed to catch Rose’s attention. “Your ma cannot hold ye right now. I will have to do,” he said, holding his thumb under the bairn’s tiny fingers. They curled around him as her big blue eyes stared upward, her cries softening. A wave of warmth ran through him as he looked at the sweet bairn, so strong even at one month old.
“Your ma?” Alana asked, having turned to him, eyes questioning.
A smile touched his mouth. “Aye. Rose, our bairn.”
“Our?” she asked, her eyes swelling with tears.
He shook his head. “I will not take back my oath, Alana,” he said. “I am yours, and I will protect this bairn as my own.” He swallowed, hope nearly choking him. Everyone stood around them, staring in silence, but his gaze only rested on the beautiful woman before him. The one who had continually showed her courage, compassion, and strength in the face of every challenge. The squeeze of Rose’s wee fingers on his thumb helped him to find his own words.
“If we live apart, it will be difficult for me to protect her,” he said. He exhaled, trying to find the words. “And I do not think I have the strength to watch ye walk away from me again.”
Alana’s breath sucked in quickly, and she wet her lips. “Do you mean…you are going to carry me off over your shoulder again?” she whispered.
He kept his distance, letting her make her own decisions. Everyone held their tongue, even baby Rose. He slowly shook his head, keeping his gaze connected with the bonniest green eyes he’d ever seen.
“Nay. I mean, Alana Campbell, will ye wed me? Become the mistress of Girnigoe Castle where we can raise wee Rose and all the other bairns we are blessed with?”
Her hand rose to her mouth as a small sob came out. Shaw took a step toward her, but he couldn’t hold her with the bairn in his arms. And he must know her answer if he was ever going to breathe again. He must hear it from her lips, here before her family.
Rabbie stepped up to Rose, but Violet Campbell reached for the bairn first. “Come to your grandmother, little Rose. I think we started off all wrong.” Violet met Shaw’s eyes and gave him a small nod. After a pause, he slowly let the woman take the bairn. She smiled down at the little face, swaying as the other Highland Roses gathered around her.
Shaw turned back to Alana, his arms dropping to his sides. He couldn’t force her into them, couldn’t lure her somewhere she might not want to be. He met her watery gaze. “Alana Campbell, will ye marry me?”
She sucked in a trembling breath. “Yes,” she said. The word tore through him with the power and razor edge of a blade. He stepped forward, his arms open, and she threw herself against him.
“Tha gaol agam ort. I love ye,” he said, cupping her cheek with one hand as he pulled her tightly into the circle of his body.
“I love you, Shaw Sinclair.” She reached up to pull his mouth down to hers, sealing her oath with a kiss that filled him with a surge of happiness and strength. He lifted her off the ground, swinging her around as she laughed, only to set her back down and kiss her again, and again, and again.
Epilogue
“Time to walk,” Grey Campbell said, looking down at Alana. He smiled, his brows lowered. “Unless ye want to run away screaming. I can slaughter Shaw and his party.”
Alana smiled up at her big brother. “The only direction I am running is north,” she said. “But I appreciate your offer.” Although she doubted even her mighty brother could beat her brawny betrothed.
He squeezed her arm. “And we will be going north with ye after this,” Grey said. “To make certain Edgar Campbell clears out of Girnigoe and leaves Sinclair land.”
“I just hope he will leave peacefully with the money that Shaw has been saving to repay his uncle’s debt,” she said.
Grey leaned his face closer to her. “I will pay the remainder of the Sinclair debt that Shaw cannot.”
Alana’s eyes grew wide. He nodded. “’Tis your dowry payment, and Evelyn has plans for ye to start a school for lasses at Girnigoe Castle, a second Highland Roses School.” He stood up tall but cut his gaze back to her. “And if Shaw ever leaves ye or ye get tired and kick his arse out, the castle and lands are yours. He knows. I made him sign a document in blood.”
Alana couldn’t tell if her brother was teasing or not but grabbed him in a hug. “Thank you, Grey.”
“Aye now,” he said after a moment and pushed her gently back from him. “Do not muss the updo that Mistress Jane wove in your hair else she will stick me with one of her needle rings that Cat told us about.”
She laughed softly, pulling away to peek around the stone arch in Finlarig Castle, her smile fading when she didn’t see Shaw. The great hall was filled with the Campbells of Breadalbane. Alana’s mother sat at the front beside Gram. Having returned to find Finlarig in the hands of more English, Violet was just starting to find her place at the school with her mother-in-law.
Gram held one of Grey’s twins while Evelyn sat next to her, holding the other. Scarlet and Aiden sat beside Evelyn, Aiden holding their newborn babe over his large shoulder, patting their little boy with a slow tap. Even Cat and Nathaniel were back from closing down his estate in England, all of them rushing to Finlarig when word reached Grey
about their mother being alive and then about Alana being abducted.
Kerrick sat next to Lucy Kellington, the two of them inseparable since returning home. He probably would be holding her hand if he wasn’t putting his muscle into keeping Robert on his tether next to him, the wolfhound determined to run amok greeting everyone.
The Highland Rose students and instructors all sat flanking the holly-bedecked aisle with Kirstin waiting up at the front to stand beside Alana as she took her vows. Kirstin had been her best friend from childhood and was even now planning to stay by her side as she journeyed to her new home at Girnigoe Castle.
“Did you tie Shaw up and leave him to rot somewhere?” Alana asked, looking at her frowning brother.
His brows rose. “Now that idea has merit.”
“Grey,” she warned, but he tipped his head toward the front of the hall, making her turn.
Behind the elderly Protestant minister, Shaw Sinclair strode inside the keep. Alana’s chest squeezed, and a smile bloomed on her face. Strength and dignity commanded his every step. He wore a cleaned Sinclair tartan kilt, the sash flowing down over one of his broad shoulders, his chest covered in a bright white tunic of fine linen that Grey had given him. His sword hung in the scabbard at his side, and his boots were polished. Shaw’s beard was trimmed short, leaving his cheeks smooth, and his waves of dark hair had been cropped above the chin.
His gaze raked across the crowd, but she knew he couldn’t see her hidden in the shadows of the arch. Did he worry that she’d taken Grey up on his offer to run? She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. For the only person she wanted to be with, besides the little infant girl being carried by Rabbie behind Shaw, was the man that she’d grown to respect and love. Not just for his bravery and fierceness, but for his gentle touch, golden soul, and compassion.
The other Sinclairs followed behind, all cleaned up, trimmed, and wearing borrowed tunics with their cleaned kilts. Even Alistair and Logan, remorseful and quiet since returning, walked with them. Rose was dressed in white lace and bundled in a green blanket to match Alana’s dress.
The Highland Outlaw Page 29
