The Scottish Outlaws Collection, Books 1 - 5

by Lily Baldwin

  “No one’s life was at risk today because of that fire. But what of tomorrow or next month or next year? What of the lambs those sheep will birth in the spring? What of the crops lost today because of the seed I couldn’t save? Someone will go with less food tomorrow because of what happened today. Stores represent hope against disaster, which in the end is inevitable. That is the power of one bag of grain or one sheep. Never take anything for granted, Rory MacVie. My actions today were not to save a necklace. I did it to save my people.”

  Rory raked his hand through his hair while he wrestled contrasting desires. He wanted to ring her neck, but he also wanted to raise her high, higher than the stars for how well she loved her people. Inside her slim frame, she held greatness, but also blind recklessness—not that he was any better. Still, he had expected her to have more sense than him.

  “Truth be known,” Mary said from her seat near the hearth. “I think ye’re both mad.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rory sat on a stack of grain bags and leaned back against the cool inner wall. Overhead, a canopy made from oilcloth kept the rising sun off his brow. He took a deep breath and tried to release the anxiety he’d been lugging around since he first heard that Alex had rushed into a burning building. He still could not believe what she had done. He furrowed his brow, imagining how she might respond to his judgment of her. She would accuse him of being a hypocrite, which would, of course, be true. He often acted heedless of danger, but that was different. His life mattered little when measured against the exquisiteness that was Alex MacKenzie. The mere thought of the world being denied her courage and grace was too great a sorrow for him to bear.

  She had become essential to him.

  He closed his eyes. At least for the moment, he didn’t have to worry about her safety. She had agreed to remain in bed for one more day. He chuckled to himself. That was wholly inaccurate. Alex had certainly not agreed to remain isolated in her chamber. Mary, proving herself to be quietly resolute, and Rosie had united, making a stubborn and impassable front. Truth be told, he thought Alex had appeared well enough to move about, but he wasn’t about to stand in Mary and Rosie’s way. They clearly wanted to hold Alex responsible for her misguided heroics.

  The drum of hooves captured his attention. He leaned forward, peering out from beneath the canopy at a rider galloping into the courtyard with Gavin at his side. A nagging apprehension filled him when he recognized Benny, the abbot’s youngest agent. He hoped the lad did not bring ill tidings. Quickly sliding to his feet, he hastened toward the visitor.

  “Whoa,” Rory said, grabbing the horse’s bit and helping Benny bring his mount to a halt.

  “Nice plaid,” Benny said, eying Rory’s new attire.

  “’Tis rather comfortable. Ye should try for yerself.”

  Benny laughed. “And show the lassies my scrawny legs? Absolutely not.”

  Gavin brought his horse alongside Rory. “He said he was a friend of yers, which is clearly true.”

  Rory nodded. “Indeed he is. Benny, this here is Gavin MacKenzie, captain of the guard. Gavin, meet Benedict MacTavish, one of the abbot’s messengers.”

  Gavin nodded at Benny in greeting before turning back to Rory. “I’ll leave ye both to yer business and let Finlay and Michael know of his coming.” Then he turned his horse and left the courtyard through the gate.

  Benny slid to the ground.

  “What word from Abbot Matthew?” Rory said, his voice low.

  “I wasn’t sent here by the abbot. My message is from David.”

  “What word then from David?”

  “He bids ye make haste to the Iron Shoe Tavern. He needs ye for a mission.”

  “Did he give ye any details?”

  “He told me nothing other than he will meet you in the tavern two evenings from today.”

  Rory could not imagine what would be important enough to pull him away from his current mission.

  “Does the abbot know?”

  Benny shrugged. “He knows about David’s mission. I do not ken whether he knows David sent for ye.”

  Rory groaned and looked heavenward. “Ye ken ye’ve complicated what is already a rather complex mission here.”

  Benny smiled. “Remember—I’m only the messenger.”

  Rory raked his hand through his hair. “Aye, well come on messenger. I’ll take ye to the stables. Ye can wipe yer horse down and give her some fresh oats.”

  They stepped into the stables, and straightaway Rory spied Robert who was on his knees inspecting a newborn foal with Fergus, the stable master.

  “Good morrow,” Rory said, keeping a cautious eye on Robert while leading Benny’s horse into an empty stall. Robert looked up. His gaze held none of the previous day’s hostility. In fact, Robert smiled and looked like he was about to speak to Rory when a lassie with chestnut curls and bright, blue eyes opened the stable doors.

  “Da,” she called, drawing everyone’s gaze.

  “Aye, Cara,” Fergus said, looking up.

  Cara’s gaze shifted from her father and locked with Rory’s. She stared at him with open admiration. “Yer lunch is ready, Da.” Cara said, not looking away from Rory.

  “Thanks, love. Tell yer mother I’ll be home after I’m done here. Robert is helping me with the new foal.”

  Cara smiled at Rory, a lovely rose blush tinting her cheeks, before she dipped in a curtsy and turned on her heel, disappearing the way she’d come.

  Benny slowly shook his head. “Ye never cease to amaze me. No matter where ye go, the lassies turn three shades of pink at the sight of ye.”

  Rory shrugged, his attention still on Robert who had stood and was crossing the stables, heading toward them.

  “I’m sorry for confronting ye at Lammas,” Robert said, offering his hand to Rory. “Spirits ran high. Ale flowed freely. Ye ken how it is.”

  Rory clasped Robert’s offered hand. “’Tis I who should apologize. And ye’re right about the ale. I was soused. I had no right to hit Adam.”

  “Mary told me just this morning that Adam bears ye no ill will and neither do I.” Then Robert chuckled. “It was a lively night, to be sure. My head pounded the next morning. It felt like an army marching to war across my forehead.” Suddenly, Robert’s easy expression vanished. Brows drawn, he said, “Have ye any word on how Alex is doing? I tried to visit her earlier, but Mary and Rosie refused me. I dread to think of what could have befallen our dear lady had ye not rescued her in time.” Robert pulled a folded piece of parchment from his satchel. “I’ve written a poem celebrating her great heroics. Those sheep are indebted to her.”

  All thoughts of goodwill for Robert fled Rory’s mind. “She’s not accepting visitors,” he snapped before storming out the stable doors.

  His fists clenched. David had very bad timing. How could he leave Alex to the attentions of her poetry-wielding suitors?

  The answer was simple—he couldn’t. Not now, not ever.

  Then he remembered their secret armory—Scotland’s swords. He would just have to convince Alex to make the journey to Haddington Abbey sooner, and then whatever mission David had planned, she could take part in—after all, she was one of Scotland’s agents. A slight smile curved his lips while he relished the idea of the journey south with Alex—alone. At that moment, he did not know how they would explain her departure to Michael, but he was confident they would find a way.

  He turned to Benny. “Take yerself to the keep and have something to eat. Then ride back to David. Ye can take my mare. Tell him that I’ll be there.”

  ~ * ~

  With plans hatching in his mind, Rory hastened to Alex’s chamber. He knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Rosie called from the other side.

  “’Tis Rory.”

  She flung the door wide, reached out and grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. “I’m warning ye,” she whispered. “She’s in a mood, to be sure.”

  Rory crossed to Ale
x’s bedside. Pale blond hair pooled behind her head.

  She sat up. “Thank God ye’ve come,” she said, her speech rushed. “Ye have to convince Mary and Rosie that I’m well enough to leave. They won’t even let me out of bed.”

  Rory raised his brows. “Why don’t ye just leave?” he said, feigning ignorance. “Surely, they do not keep ye prisoner.”

  “They’ve threatened to tell Michael that I’m one of Scotland’s agents.” Her eyes flashed angrily at Rosie before she turned back to look at Rory. “I’m surprised she let ye in. I haven’t even seen Michael today—which means they are turning away my visitors. How did ye get past?”

  “Just lucky, I suppose,” he said. Then his attention was caught by Rosie who stood where Alex could not see her. Silently, Rosie acted as if she were coughing, then pointed to Alex. He bit the side of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Ah…I understand Rosie is very concerned about yer cough.”

  Alex threw her hands up. “What cough?” she snapped. “I’ve barely coughed all morning. They are punishing me for saving the sheep yesterday.”

  “It was a foolhardy thing to do,” Rosie said, marching into view.

  Alex’s face turned red. “Rory, tell her that rushing into my burning stores is hardly the most reckless thing I’ve ever done. Ye of all men know that. Anyway,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I will do whatever I deem is required of me, for my people and for Scotland.”

  He froze, taking in her form, tucked neatly in bed. Then his gaze shifted to her nightstand where her breakfast sat untouched. He smiled. They had their perfect cover. The only two people who knew Alex was an agent were the same two people keeping her locked away in her room. No one else had gained entry today, which meant no one else knew her true condition.

  He reached for her hands. “Little do Mary and Rosie know, they have just done me and Scotland a mighty favor.”

  “What are ye talking about?” she said, allowing him to help her to her feet.

  “Join me by the hearth, and I’ll tell ye.”

  “Ahem,” Rosie said, looking pointedly at Rory. “She is supposed to stay in bed.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Don’t fash yerself, Rosie. ‘Tis just a wee mission. Well, actually two wee missions, but when we’re done, I promise ye, she’ll stay in bed for a week if ye want.”

  Rosie looked at Rory, then at Alex, then back at Rory. Finally she threw her hands up and crossed the room, taking up some mending. “It’s not as if Mary and I could stop ye both anyway.”

  Rory smiled and sat down, meeting Alex’s eager gaze. “I’ve just received a message from David.”

  “Who’s David?”

  “The other agent in the woods the night we first met.”

  “He’s talking about the man who stood by and watched him undress ye,” Rosie scolded from across the room.

  Rory pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling. “The same,” he said. Then he turned back to Alex. “We’re to meet him at the Iron Shoe Tavern in two days’ time. He will give us the details then.”

  “He asked for my aid?”

  “Nay, not exactly. Still, would ye rather stay here, imprisoned in yer own chamber?”

  Alex shot Rosie an accusatory look. “Ye’re right,” she said, turning back to Rory. “I’ll do it; that is, if we can think of an excuse for my absence. I may be Lady of Luthmore, but I am still a woman, Rory. I’m not free to come and go as I please.”

  “That’s just it. We do not have to invent an excuse. Ye won’t be leaving Luthmore at all.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Mary and Rosie will continue to guard yer door. To all the world, ye will be ill in bed when in truth we shall be moving the weapons and helping David.”

  She jumped to her feet, a smile spreading widely on her lips. “That could work. My condition would have to worsen before it improved, of course. Mayhap, I could develop some kind of pox.”

  Rory shook his head. “A pox is too severe. A good fever will do.”

  Alex smiled. “I suppose ye’re right. It’ll have to be a fever and the chills.”

  “Aye,” Rory agreed. “Ye’ll have the chills and ragged breathing too.” Then he turned to Rosie. “Are ye paying attention, Rosie? This is important.”

  “By the Saints, ye’re both mad,” Rosie said, raising her eyes heavenward.

  Alex winked at Rory. “Don’t worry. Rosie may protest, but secretly she delights in being a Scottish rebel. We’ll just have to win Mary’s support.”

  Just then a key turned in the door and Mary walked in.

  Alex and Rory smiled at each other. Then Alex stood and greeted her cousin. “Mary, we were just talking about ye. Come and sit with me. I’ve a wee favor to ask.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alex stood gazing out her casement at the round moon glowing high in the star-studded sky. Anticipation shot through her.

  “’Tis time,” Rory said, coming to stand at her side. “I have given Michael and the others my excuses. As far as the inhabitants of Luthmore are concerned, I have journeyed south to assist the abbot.”

  Alex turned, her eyes traveling the length of Rory’s tall, muscular form. He had traded his plaid for a faded, brown tunic and frayed brown hose.

  She smiled her approval. “Ye look like the humblest of peasants.”

  “’Tis because I am a humble peasant. Remember?”

  “A peasant ye may be, Rory MacVie, but humble?” She looked up at him and tilted her head to the side, pretending to consider the possibility. He smiled under her scrutiny, and once again she was struck by how painfully good-looking he was. She laughed. “Ye’ve not been humble a day in yer life.” Then she fanned out her usual threadbare tunic and spun around. “How do I look.”

  He smiled. “Ravishing as always. Although I do believe there is something different about ye.”

  She lifted the hem of her skirt. “Right ye are. I’m wearing shoes.”

  He stepped toward her. A shiver shot up her spine when his hand, warm and strong, came to rest at her waist. “We are ready then,” he said, his voice low.

  She nodded, looking up into his sky-blue eyes, which glinted with excitement, mirroring her own thrill over what was to come. Whatever David’s mission involved, she knew it had to be important. She knew it would bring Scotland that much closer to freedom.

  Alex turned to Mary. “Be careful while I’m gone. See to the needs of our people, but, also, do not neglect yerself. In the evening, seek quiet and solitude in the chapel and give up the day’s worries to God.”

  Mary smiled, tears flooding her golden brown eyes. “I promise,” she said and threw her arms around Alex’s neck. “Ye know I hate when ye go away. Is there nothing I can say that will make ye stay put for once? Scotland has enough agents, whereas, Luthmore cannot afford to lose another leader.”

  Alex held Mary close. “Luthmore will only remain strong if Scotland does. Anyway, Luthmore has ye, Mary, and I leave our people in yer care with full confidence.” Then she pulled away just enough to wipe at Mary’s tears. “Ye ken I love ye, but I must go. ‘Tis my calling.”

  Mary nodded and drew a deep, bolstering breath. “I ken.”

  Alex kissed her cheek. “I will miss ye, but I shall not be away long. Mind that William stays out of trouble.”

  “I will,” Mary said. Then she stepped away, allowing Rosie room to throw her arms around Alex.

  “Mind ye don’t do anything foolish,” Rosie admonished.

  Mary scoffed. “Given she’s about to steal away into the night, smuggling weapons through lands infested with thieves, the real sort, with a gorgeous Scottish rebel. I think it’s too late for that warning.”

  Rosie bristled, shooting a scowl at Mary. “She knows what I mean.” Then Rosie turned back to look at Alex, cupping her cheeks. “Don’t be foolish. No running headlong into burning buildings.”

  Alex pressed a kiss to Rosie’s cheek. “I promise, no more great heroics.”

  �
��Och, lass, don’t ye be making promises to me that ye can’t begin to keep. God gave ye to Scotland so that ye could save it.”

  Alex smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

  Rosie squeezed her tightly. “Now that’s one promise I know ye’ll keep. I love ye, lass. Yer mother’d be proud.”

  Alex smiled at her women-folk, their faces blurred by a curtain of tears. Then she turned to Rory. “Are ye ready?” she asked.

  Rory stepped toward Mary and dipped his head. “We should be gone less than a fortnight.” Then he turned to Rosie and pressed a kiss to her plump cheek. “Keep that door shut and locked by command of yer lady. Be ready to invent illnesses as needed.” Then he turned and lifted the trap door in the floor and took the offered torch from Rosie’s hand. The staircase wound down, then leveled off and wormed through the ground. When they arrived at the door that would lead them beyond the outer wall, Rory stopped and looked at Alex, his eyes gleaming with longing in the torch fire. “I never would have believed so dark and dank a place could ever conjure such powerful memories.”

  Alex let Rory’s sensual tone wash over her. She glanced at the hard, stone wall she had leaned against while his hands had boldly stroked her hardened nipples, and his touch had driven her to new heights of…

  “Nay!” she blurted. “Keep walking. We must at least make it beyond the castle grounds fully clothed—or else we are just a mockery of the cause.”

  Under the cover of hooded cloaks and the dark of night, they set out through the forest where Rory had already prepared their wagon, covering the weapons with bags of seed.

  She peeked beneath one of the bags. “At long last, these swords will make it into the hands of Scottish soldiers.”

  “We will meet David at the Iron Shoe. Someone there will be able to take the wagon the rest of the way to Haddington Abbey.”

  “He had best be trustworthy.”

  “Mayhap it will be a she.”