The Rogue

by Allison Butler

Sympathy for never knowing her mother clenched Dair’s heart. At least he had a few faint memories of his mother before she’d abandoned him. He heard Keila draw her next breath and the air seemed to change with it.

  ‘Are you married?’

  Keila’s unexpected question surprised Dair, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked. His initial reaction was to respond as he usually did, in a jovial manner about there being too many beautiful women he’d yet to explore, except … A moment before she’d asked if he was married, in that last drawn breath he’d heard, he sensed a change in Keila, a withdrawal, a sudden defensiveness. So instead he replied, ‘Nae. Are you?’

  ‘Me? Nae.’

  The protective wall between them fell as quickly as it had formed. Before he could think more on the matter, Keila turned the conversation back on him.

  ‘Do you remember anything before you lived with the Elliots?’

  Dair called to mind one of the few memories that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. He admitted to having memories, but it didn’t mean they were always pleasant to recall. ‘I see the face of a woman with fine features and dark hair. She is smiling down at me.’ He smiled now in the darkness at his childish confession. ‘I’m certain she was my mother.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  His chest tightened and hardened at the memory of standing in the small wood, staring up through the dappled sunlight into his mother’s smiling eyes. ‘I do not know what became of her after she left me.’

  ‘She left you?’

  Dair turned toward Keila, even though the night prevented him from seeing her, or perhaps saved him from seeing the pity he’d heard in her voice staring back at him. He’d relived that day over and over again to see if he’d missed something or done something wrong to give his mother cause to abandon him.

  ‘We’d been riding together on the same horse for what seemed like days, sleeping under the stars and beneath trees for shelter.’ Something he still enjoyed doing to this day. ‘We’d stopped to rest by a burn and then walked our mount for a time, until we heard voices on the other side of a small gathering of trees. We tethered the horse and crept through to the other side and happened upon a group of lads practising with wooden swords.’ Even now, Dair could see the lads clearly in his mind.

  ‘I’d not known any lads of a similar age to me and was enthralled at the sight of them. I knelt by one of the trees and watched them. I could have watched them all day. I looked up and saw my mother smiling down at me.’ Dair looked up now as if replaying the moment would bring her back. ‘That’s the last time I saw her.’ He lowered his chin. ‘When I next looked up, she was gone, as was the horse.’ He’d told the Elliots the same story when they’d found him alone, sobbing like a babe at the edge of the wood. ‘The Elliots took me in and taught me all I know. I owe them everything.’

  A tide of weariness washed over Dair at the end of the telling. Weariness steeped in frustration at still not knowing what happened to his mother.

  ‘The Elliots sound like caring people.’

  ‘Lachlan Elliot is now laird and was one of the lads practising his sword skills that day. But I was not the first lad they took in. Two of the other lads, Duff and Callum, were also without kith or kin. I am proud to call them all great friends. We all searched the Lowlands for our origins but turned up naught. Lachlan Elliot has granted all three of us a year’s leave from our clan duties to scour the Highlands in the hopes of finding where we came from. So I am not the only Borderer wandering your Highlands at present.’

  ‘The Highlands are a big place. Have you had any success?’

  ‘None, and my time away will soon be up. I’m to meet Duff and Cal in Braemar a sennight before Lammas.’ Several moments of silence followed his words about returning south.

  ‘Your time is precious. You have done more for us than expected.’ Fabric rustled as she stood. ‘There is nae need for you to escort us home. We know the way and—’

  ‘Time is precious,’ Dair conceded and rose to his feet. ‘But there is nae place I’d choose to be right now than here with you, Keila.’ He reached for her arm and his fingers slid down the slender limb to her hand. ‘I did not share my memories with you because you asked. I shared them because there was a need to, a sense of rightness. I have only known you for a sennight, but it feels like I have known you for so much longer.’ It wasn’t something he would normally confess with such ease. But naught about Keila seemed normal to him. She seemed so much more. ‘Am I alone in the feeling of it, or do you feel it too?’

  Perfect stillness and then her fingers curled about his hand. She turned toward him, but her head remained bowed. ‘I feel it too,’ she whispered.

  Dair stepped closer to her, closing the small gap between them. ‘There is nothing more I long to do right now than kiss you.’ His indrawn breath shuddered with restraint. ‘But I know I will be lost in the taste of you and cannot take the risk of dropping my guard when I have promised to keep you safe.’

  ‘Then leave her be and let us get some sleep,’ Moira said from the other side of the cart, shattering the moment.

  ‘Sweet Moira. How is it you manage to catch me at my best?’

  ‘If that is your best, lad, you have little to offer.’

  Her reply battered his masculine pride, but he couldn’t withhold a smile at the older woman’s wit. He was also relieved she couldn’t see it in the dark.

  ‘Get some sleep now, Keila.’ He gently squeezed her hand and released her.

  After a few whispered words exchanged between Keila and Moira, he heard no more and settled himself on the grass to polish his sword. Like a morbid kind of company, the three fires burned for much of what remained of the night. The two smaller fires, both looking to be on the far side of Mortlach, ceased to burn first. The largest blaze, which appeared to be situated within the vicinity of the inn, burned more fiercely. Dair’s unease that Euan might have suffered for providing shelter for Keila and Moira inside his stable grew with every flickering flame, and didn’t fully subside even when the final blaze had ceased to compete with the moon in the small hours of the morning.

  With the return of natural darkness, so too did one image from the day’s events that was forever burned into Dair’s mind. The sight of the steel blade slicing the air so close to where Keila knelt in the cart set a cold hand of fear around his heart and squeezed. The thought of it, the memory, and the tightening of his gut, haunted him the rest of the night.

  He polished his sword with renewed vigour, until the blade gleamed in the descending moon’s light. He was relieved to have his weapon back, but the sooner he returned Keila and Moira to the safety of Drummin House, the better. Not that he’d be returning to the Borders until he was certain Keila and Moira were safe after he left.

  In the pre-dawn light, Dair appraised the carthorses after their unexpected flight and was pleased they seemed well rested and fit for travel. They were on the road to Drummin the moment the sun cast its first rays of morning light across the hills and glens. Neither woman complained about the early start, nor about breaking their fast with a half loaf as they travelled. He suspected they were both eager to reach home.

  He set a good pace and held it throughout the misty Highland dawn, but followed a path of his own making, while keeping the burn they’d followed north to Mortlach far on his left. He didn’t know how many of the four riders had survived their wounds and falls from their horses, but none of them had returned during the night to finish whatever it was they’d started. It didn’t mean they weren’t being watched or followed, by the same men or by others.

  He rode Demon beside the cart, level with where the women shared the bench seat. Keila held the reins, and despite their efforts to appear relaxed, they spoke not a word to each other and threw a darted glance here or there, or turned of a sudden to look behind them, proving they were far from feeling calm.

  Before the warmth of June’s sun reached its peak, Dair called a stop beside a small
loch that boasted a copse of assorted shrubs nearby that would provide necessary privacy.

  ‘We will stop for a short time.’ He dismounted and assisted the women from the cart. ‘I’ll see to the horses. Stretch your legs,’ he said, indicating the cluster of foliage, ‘but don’t wander too far.’

  Both women headed straight for the bushes. They wouldn’t be stopping long enough for him to unhitch the horses, so Dair led them to the edge of the loch to drink. Demon followed a little further along the bank.

  ‘Your horse is well trained,’ Keila said, as she halted beside him.

  ‘Demon is a clever beast and is free to move where he likes, but never strays far from my side.’ The reason he wasn’t taken the night Dair was beaten, and then followed him to Drummin House. Now he knew for certain that Mortlach’s inn was the last place he’d been before the attack, the chances he had reached Drummin House on his own were impossible. Someone had left him there. But why?

  ‘How is your wound?’ Keila’s voice was much closer.

  He turned his head. ‘My wound is fine.’ The stitches beside his right eye tingled as she stepped closer still and appraised his injury anyway.

  ‘You do not believe me?’

  Her green gaze shifted from his stitches to his eyes. ‘In my experience, some men have a habit of saying they’re fine when they are not.’

  How much experience had she had with men? Had Leith of Drummin been a part of her experience? A surge of heat infused his blood at the thought.

  ‘In my experience, some women share the same habit,’ he said, looking into her green eyes. He saw the same query he’d had of her in the emerald depths.

  ‘I am certain they all have their reasons.’ She searched his gaze a moment more before stepping back. ‘You heal quickly. I will remove the stitches at Drummin in the morn.’

  ***

  He did heal quickly. Despite the distance between where Keila swayed with the cart’s motion and where Adair rode Demon, she could clearly see the swelling about his mouth and eyes had gone. The gash beside his eye had all but fully healed and most of the bruises discolouring his face had faded to nothing, leaving naught but a very fine-looking man.

  ‘You look like you’ve consumed one cask too many of your own ale.’

  Keila blinked at Moira’s unhappy tone. ‘I am happy to see Adair’s wound has all but healed.’

  Moira looked like she’d eaten an onion whole. ‘Good. Now he knows his name he can be on his way.’

  ‘Why do you want him gone?’

  ‘I see how you look at him, lass. He might be handsome now, but he wasn’t fine-looking when he arrived on your doorstep battered and bruised. Yet still you were drawn to him.’ Her tone lowered with displeasure. ‘He will bring you naught but trouble.’

  Keila understood Moira’s caution, but after yesterday’s fright she didn’t want to dwell on dark thoughts. ‘So you agree Adair is a handsome man?’

  Moira looked at Keila with a hopeless gaze but didn’t respond, which to Keila’s mind was answer enough. She glanced across to where Adair rode and felt fairy wings take flight inside her belly. Keila knew Moira was only concerned she’d end up hurt like Moira had been. She grasped one of her friend’s hands and said, ‘I learned many things about Dair last night, Moira, but one of the first questions I asked of him was if he was married.’

  Moira’s constant warnings had strangled the growing feeling of contentment Keila was experiencing, sitting in the dark of night listening to Adair. His voice had been like a melody playing across her heart. But her heart had drummed the fiercest beat while she’d waited for his answer to her blurted question. When he’d finally answered, ‘Nae,’ relief spiralled through her like a leaf caught in a whirly wind and she’d wanted him to hold her. It had then taken several moments for her to realise he’d asked her the same question. She’d almost laughed.

  ‘If I hadn’t already heard his response last night, I’d know he wasn’t wed by the dreamy look in your eyes this morn.’

  Keila couldn’t help a shy smile curving her lips. She enjoyed his teasing manner and realised Moira was right. She had found Adair fascinating from the moment she’d laid eyes on him and the more she learned, the more intrigued she became. She’d come to know him before his memories had returned and now she was learning about him all over again.

  The rest of the journey home passed swiftly and without incident. Due to Adair taking them on a slightly different path to Drummin House, she didn’t have the chance to stop by Rory’s cottage to let him know they’d returned home early. A happenstance that suited Keila at present, as she wasn’t in the mood to replay the disastrous events of the whole journey. Tomorrow would be soon enough. For what little remained of this day, she just wanted to wash and change her gown and discover everything she could about handsome, unwed Adair.

  Chapter 14

  How long was he going to sleep? Keila worked hard at pacing a rut in the stone floor in the kitchen. Was he planning on sleeping the whole night through? Once they’d arrived back at Drummin House, Adair had seen to the horses and helped unload what little was left on the cart before he’d washed and found his bed. All before the sun had set at what seemed forever ago.

  Moira had washed and changed, as had Keila, and had gone upstairs to bed after they’d shared a quick meal of smoked ham, bread and cheese. Perhaps Keila should also find her bed. But she wasn’t tired. Her mind was too full of imagined time talking with Adair about anything and everything. If he ever stopped sleeping.

  She was being unfair, she knew. He hadn’t slept the previous night as he’d been watching over her and Moira. But she couldn’t help it. She halted her pacing as she reached the opening that led from the kitchen into the sitting room and stared through to the healing room doorway. Naught sounded. Nothing moved. Aside from not liking change not of her own making, she’d discovered in the last few hours that she didn’t much like waiting either.

  She sipped from her cup of ale, thinking she should make use of her time and start brewing the next batch. Why bother? A tiny voice cloaked with dreadful memories of tossing full ale casks off the cart taunted her now. They’d lost so much on this disastrous journey to market. But all the saints knew they’d need to return as soon as possible with as much to sell as they could. Who will buy them this time? She could always search out another inn but already knew Mortlach’s was the closest, and as she’d said to Adair, time was precious.

  Keila’s fingers tightened about her cup as she marched through the sitting room doorway and in through the next. She’d not dwell on the matter now. She’d much prefer to occupy her mind with thoughts of Adair. A more immediate option. And a more pleasant one.

  The single candle burning low on the small worn table in the corner of the room cast a dim light over Adair’s slumbering form. Keila peered down at his large body, and slowly drank in the sight of him from head to toe. He filled the pallet from top to bottom and from one side to the next.

  Warmth flooded her being. Her gaze settled on his face and the warmth heated further. Something about Adair called to her, drew her. He made her feel good about herself as well as about what she did. In what she now started to see as her isolated life, she’d never had anyone praise her like Adair did.

  Moira supported her and always had, but she didn’t make her feel as if what she did was anything special. It was something needing done and so they did it. And while Leith praised her hair or her eyes, he never commented on how she took needy people into her home and gave them somewhere to stay until they had recovered or grew stronger, until they healed and could move on.

  The man lying before her teased her and asked her about her love of brewing ale and made her blush by praising her for her kindness to strangers. Adair made her feel as if every small thing she did was good and necessary. His observations gave her everyday a purpose, her life meaning. She hadn’t known what she did was important until he spoke of it and made it so.

  ‘Do you watch over every strang
er you take in while they sleep?’ His gravelly voice broke the quiet.

  ‘Only the troublesome ones.’ He made her feel daring and made her want to tease him in return. ‘And ’tis only fair as you watched over me last night.’ He also made her blush. Instinct told her to turn away to hide the heat flaming in her cheeks. She ignored her instincts and was rewarded for her courage by the sight of his bared chest, muscles rippling, as he sat up on the side of the pallet.

  ‘A pleasure, I assure you.’ He looked up at her. ‘I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble, Keila.’

  Only a hint of gold and brown bruising remained to remind her of his beating. She drank in the sight of his naked shoulders and bulging arms, now understanding the ease he’d shown at swinging his heavy sword. ‘Nae too much.’ Though she doubted Moira would agree. ‘Stay and I will remove your stitches.’ She gathered her satchel.

  ‘Very well and ’tis glad I am to hear it.’ He smiled, his teeth showing clearly in the poor light.

  The blue of his eyes glinted darker as she severed and removed each stitch beside his right eye and applied a thick coating of salve to the neat scar. She stepped back to observe her handiwork and took another step back as he slowly rose to his feet.

  Keila held her breath as he stood, looking like a mountain rising out of a loch. His lips were full and now at rest, his clenched whiskered jaw powerful. His neck thick and corded, his wide chest expanded with a long breath. Long-ago scars marked his torso but only added to his fierceness, and the return of his memory doubled her curiosity. The flesh stretched tight and perfect over his muscular stomach and had her curling her fingers into her palm. The woollen blanket about his waist fell like a waterfall. She caught her breath, but still didn’t look away. How could she be relieved and disappointed to discover he’d slept with his plaid on?

  She bent and retrieved her half cup of ale and thrust it toward him. ‘Here, drink this.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Another potion? You do not have to put me to sleep to have your way with me, Keila.’