But even bandits couldn't stop the low, fierce joy she felt in her chest at finally being in motion again. She might have damaged her relationship with Kieran beyond repair, she knew that, and she regretted it… but nothing would have changed her mind about pursuing this course of action. Her job was who she was. She couldn't just give up on DeBeers completely to keep some man happy. If he loved her – if he wanted a future with her – he'd accept that she was always going to want to close her case. And he'd apologize for trying to get in her way, she thought with a flare of annoyance over their most recent conversation.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when the lights of the village finally came into view. The trees around her thinned as she picked up speed, eager to get to the relative safety of the streets. There, on the edge of town, just as the grooms had told her, stood a tall building with cheerful lights in the window, loud voices audible even from here. She lowered the hood of her cloak as she approached the building, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest. This was it. This was where DeBeers had been seen for several nights on end. Would she step in to see him there, standing in front of an appreciative pub audience, telling tales of his robberies? Cold anger gripped her heart. How dare he sing for his supper with the tales of the lives he'd destroyed, the women he'd hurt and killed in his adventures?
DeBeers was the worst kind of bandit, she reflected as she gathered her nerve on the doorstop of the pub. The men who Kieran fought – the men who'd attacked the castle – they were desperate men, driven to crime by necessity. They were men who'd starve otherwise. DeBeers? He did it for the fun of it – for the thrill of taking something that wasn't his. A man like him being around would ensure that a bandit plague would become permanent… because he'd spread his horrible attitude that being a thief was a romantic, exciting lifestyle. She wouldn't let him do that. The people of this place deserved better.
Full of determination, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the pub.
Many curious faces turned to look at her, most of them men, though she saw a few women among the patrons of the bar. It was crowded for such a late hour, and she wondered with a sinking feeling in her stomach whether they were all here to see DeBeers tell his stories, spin his horrible tales of larceny… but when she scanned the room, she couldn't see him anywhere. She headed up to the bar, ignoring the curious looks of the other patrons, and waited until the bartender ambled over to investigate. He was an older man with a shock of white hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes that sized her up thoughtfully.
"Haven't seen you in here before, lass," he said, tilting his head a little. "New in town?"
"Kind of," she said, wondering how much she should get into it. "I live up at the castle."
"Oh, aye? A friend of the MacLeods, are you?"
"That's right," she said with a smile.
He looked very curious. "That accent of yours is interesting. Irish?"
She bit back a laugh. In a way, he might be right – her family was from Boston for generations, and there were more than a few Irish immigrants in her family tree. "Originally, yes," she said, smiling a little. It wasn't technically a lie… though she'd never set foot in Ireland in her life. "My name's Sarah."
"Good to meet you, Sarah. What brings you out tonight, alone?"
Was he flirting with her? She couldn't help but smile. He was old enough to be her father, but there was something charming about the twinkle in his eye regardless. Or maybe it was just the accent. A person with a Scottish accent could get away with murder, as far as she was concerned. "I heard there was a storyteller in town," she said casually, not sure how much to reveal about what she knew about DeBeers. "A couple of men up at the castle were raving about him."
"Oh, you must mean our Damon," the bartender chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not surprised word's spread. He's been rather popular around here."
"How long has he been here?"
"Oh, a month or two, ever since he arrived from England with nothing but the clothes on his back. He's been singing for his supper," the man chuckled, shaking his head. "Lord knows he had no other way of paying for room and board. But he's brought in enough business that I'm willing to call it even."
Her heart was pounding. The name, the story, the timelines all matched up… so DeBeers had come running from the castle into town when the two of them had wound up in Scotland together. He'd been laying low here in town for the entire time – so close that she almost could have reached out and touched him. She suppressed the anger that was seething in her. It was becoming abundantly clear that Kieran had done absolutely nothing to look into the case. If she ever saw him again, she'd have some choice words for him, that was for sure.
"So, is he performing tonight?" she asked now, trying to keep her voice casual, trying not to scan the crowd for any glimpse of DeBeers. But her heart sank when the man shook his head, a regretful look on his face.
"Unfortunately not, lass. You've just missed him." The bartender shook his head, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice in a conspiratorial kind of way. "Between you and me, the man had some questionable friends, especially toward the end of his stay. I suppose you know all about our little bandit problem?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
The bartender sighed. "Aye, it's a terrible thing. But what can you do? Their coin's as good as anyone else's, and if I turned away criminals I'd be out of business… not to mention putting myself in harm's way."
"You have bandits drinking here regularly?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
The man shushed her, looking worried. "Keep your voice down, lass. Never know who's listening around here."
She glanced around them, not especially convinced that the drunkards within her peripheral view were much of a threat.
"But yes, they do come and go. I overhear things, sometimes. Plans they make, and the like. I share what I can with Kieran from the castle, of course, but I don't know how much good it does." He shook his head.
God, she loved a talkative bartender. He was doing most of her investigative work for her.
"Anyway, the group who were in a few days ago were bad news."
"A few days ago?"
"Aye, good mates of Damon's, it seems. They were always talking and laughing together. And then two days ago, he informed me he wouldn't be needing his room any longer. What could I say? He paid me a fair sum for it, all in one hit, as a kind of parting gift, I suppose. He and his new friends headed off down the road and I haven't seen him since."
She felt her heart sink into her shoes. He was gone. She'd missed him by all of two days… two days! Sarah ground her teeth, trying to stop herself from feeling absolutely furious with Kieran. If he'd taken her seriously… if he'd been paying close attention to the rumors, who knew what could have happened? He might have caught DeBeers himself… might have prevented all of this. Now she was stuck with another dead end.
"Do you have any idea where they might have gone?" she asked hopefully, but the bartender shook his head.
"They headed north, that's all I know. Possible that they've got some kind of hideout up there, of course," he said thoughtfully, tapping the side of his nose with one long finger. "But I wouldn't go a-visiting if I were you. Not a pretty young woman all on her own."
She nodded, feeling a chill run down her spine at the prospect. But what option did she have? At any rate, it was too late to go tracking DeBeers now – it was freezing outside, for a start, and she needed some time to think. Thankfully, there were some coins in the pocket of the cloak, and she was able to get a room for the night from the bartender, who was more than obliging, leading her up the narrow, creaking stairs and showing her to a room that was much smaller and narrower than her comfortable little guest quarters at the castle, but neat and clean enough to be getting on with. After assuring him that she had everything she needed, the man left her to her own devices, and she settled onto the narrow bed, sighing heavily.
Her mind strayed back to K
ieran, almost without her permission, and she bit her lip. Had he realized she was gone yet? Was it possible he'd come up to her room to talk to her – maybe even to apologize – then found her note? Maybe he was already on his way to get her. As determined as she was to catch DeBeers, at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a few doubts, deep in the depths of her mind. Was this really the right thing to do? Was it really worth risking everything she had with Kieran, the relationship they were building, just to catch this presumable murderer and jewel thief she'd been obsessing over for so long? No wonder he'd seemed a little jealous of her attachment to the man… she knew, deep down, that the way she felt about DeBeers wasn't healthy. There just wasn't room in her life for both DeBeers and Kieran.
But there didn't need to be, she thought firmly, tucking herself in bed and feeling the weariness begin to settle into her bones. She just needed to track down DeBeers and make him see justice – then she could forget she'd ever met the man. If Kieran had a problem with that… well, if her dedication to her job was enough to damage their relationship beyond repair, then the relationship wasn't worth saving in the first place. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little sad as she shut her eyes, willing sleep to claim her. She missed Kieran… missed the warmth of his body, the touch of his lips… and more to the point, she missed talking to him. She wished they could be together, hunting DeBeers as a team.
But he'd made it clear that that wasn't an option. And if she had to choose between her work and her feelings for Kieran… well, as much as it pained her to leave him behind, she knew she'd never forgive herself if she let DeBeers get away a second time.
And with these thoughts resolute in her mind, she drifted off to sleep with the distant sound of the rowdy pub in her ears.
Chapter 22
She slept well, despite the narrow, rather lumpy bed, and when she woke the next morning she was full of purpose. DeBeers was out there. She had a direction to head in, a plan to get hold of him – she'd find the bandit encampment, and simply wait until she could get him on his own. Then she'd tie him up and drag him back to the castle at knifepoint. Risky, maybe – but she'd pulled off more dangerous collars in her time back in Boston. She could do this.
She had to.
The bartender was at the bar when she got downstairs, bright-eyed even though he must have gotten about half as much sleep as she had. She thanked him warmly for taking care of her the night before, and he bid her a cheerful good day. She didn't mention that she was on her way to catch DeBeers. Somehow, she had a suspicion he might try to stop her. The sky outside was bright and clear, and the sun felt very pleasant on her skin as she set off walking up the road to the north. The countryside seemed much less foreboding in daylight, and she almost caught herself humming as she strode up the road.
It just felt so good to be in motion again… to be working a case for real, not just brooding in the castle and hoping against hope that someone would finally give her permission to do what she was best at. As she walked, she enjoyed the fresh air, the countryside, paused to chat with passersby on the road. She couldn't help noticing how worried the people she met seemed – the way they looked constantly over their shoulders as though waiting for bandits to spring out of the grass alongside the road, the cautious way they approached her before they saw her features and realized she was a single woman, alone on the road. A farmer chastened her for her boldness.
"There's bandits about, lassie," he cautioned her, his accent thick and his eyes wide with worry. "A woman like you all on your own? It's not safe."
"I'm armed, don't worry," she assured him, smiling a little as she revealed the knife she kept stashed in her satchel. He shook his head, not looking particularly convinced. "Hey, do you know this area well?"
"Lived here all my life," the farmer said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why?"
"I heard there might be a bandit encampment around the place. Would you know anything about it?"
"Aye, to the north. There's a thick stand of trees atop a hill, offers a great vantage point for the surrounding area and hides any sign of camping out. Bandits've been using it for years. Never this many, though," he added, shaking his head. "You mind you steer well clear, lassie. Take the right-hand fork in the road up ahead, not the left."
She promised she would and bid him a good day… then grinned happily a few miles down the road as she took the left-hand turn without a second thought. DeBeers was up ahead of her, and she was finally, finally on her way to capture him. She couldn't wait to see the look on his smug, arrogant face when he saw her and realized that he couldn't escape justice just by jumping back in time a few hundred years…
The trees around the road began to thicken as she walked, and she realized with a jolt that there was a gentle rise to the road. She must be getting close, she thought, slowing her pace a little. If the stand of trees the farmer had told her about was up ahead, that meant —
She almost screamed at the sound of footsteps behind her. Whipping around, certain for a moment that she'd see a whole gang of bandits standing and waiting for her, she blinked in shock, not quite understanding what she was seeing. A huge, familiar frame… and a pair of eyes, narrowed in vexation, that she'd recognize anywhere.
"You certainly travel fast."
"Kieran! You scared me half to death," she gasped, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her chest. Relief and annoyance mingled in her chest… and she squared up to him, aware that she was probably about to receive the scolding of a lifetime. "What are you doing here?"
"My job," he said coldly, narrowing his eyes as he took a menacing step towards her. "Keeping the people of this area safe… even if it's their own daft fault they're in so much danger."
"That's funny," she countered, narrowing her eyes. "Because I've been learning that there's been a dangerous criminal right under your nose for weeks, and I'm the first one who's done a damn thing about capturing him."
"Capturing him? You've got a knife and some rope and you're just going to bring him back to the castle like an errant lamb? Of all the short-sighted, daft, dangerous plans, Sarah –"
"What choice did I have?" she demanded, not backing down. "I've been all but begging you to look into DeBeers for months. I did everything right – I stayed in the castle like a good little girl, I stopped asking about him, I even considered giving up completely just for your peace of mind… and then when I got actual, concrete information about him, you refused to even consider it!"
"I have other things on my mind, Sarah!"
"Which is why you should have let me help!"
They were shouting, now, but she wasn't going to let the volume of his voice put her off. Anger was blazing in her, all the frustration of the last few weeks finally coming to a head – and she'd be damned if he was going to make her feel bad for doing her job.
"I'm not coming back to the castle," she warned him, her voice cold. "You've got a choice. You can either help me catch DeBeers and bring him to justice – or you can get the hell out of my way."
He looked at her for a long moment, and for a brief second she considered the very real possibility that he might physically pick her up and carry her back to the castle. She didn't doubt he could do it. Physically, he was incredibly impressive… the fact that he'd caught up to her so quickly on foot was clear indication of that. But would he have the absolute audacity to physically stop her from catching DeBeers? No, she suspected he didn't… and when his shoulders slumped a little, she knew that she'd won.
"This is a stupid idea," he told her in a low growl. "But seeing as you seem determined to endanger yourself… I'll stay with you. To protect you from yourself, as well as the bandits," he added with a roll of his eyes.
"Not good enough," Sarah snapped. She could tell that this was a make or break conversation for them… that at the end of this, one way or another, she was going to know where she stood with him. That felt frightening… but at the same time, it felt unbelievably good. Freeing. Everything was on the line now –
it was up to him whether he wanted her or not. "I want your enthusiastic, genuine support. And I want an apology for not taking this seriously before."
His eyes widened a little when he realized she was serious. He opened his mouth for a moment, closed it, narrowed his eyes. Fascinated, she watched him, almost able to see the thought processes as the cogs in his head turned… and finally, he took a deep breath. "I could have put more effort into finding your jewel thief."
Not good enough. Not yet. "And?"
"And I'm sorry I didn't go after him sooner," he said, shutting his eyes for a moment. "If I had, maybe we wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation."
"And?" She held her breath.
"And… let's go and catch him. Together."
It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from her chest as she gazed up at him, finally able to let the smile she'd been holding back break out across her face. He looked annoyed, and resentful, and grouchier than she'd ever seen him… but looking into his clear eyes, she knew the apology was genuine, that he was being sincere. As she smiled at him, she saw the corner of his lips twitch, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly – and that was all she needed. She threw herself into his arms, beaming as she felt them tighten around her, burying his face into the nape of her neck… and a shiver ran down her spine as he held her closer, pulling back to claim her lips in a deep, bruising kiss.
Join A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-A Highlander Across Time Book 4 Page 13
