What would Janet think? What would she say if she knew how he’d mishandled the entire situation? And what of Rufus and Drew?
He need not ask himself what Drew would do. Why, the sound of the man’s laughter practically rang in Clyde’s ears as he stumbled through the wood.
* * *
The sun had already begun to descend by the time Clyde was within the shadows of the convent’s outer walls. At least thirty feet high, they surrounded the entire building and concealed what took place inside. The ideal place for such doings, he grudgingly admitted to himself as he felt his way along the slick, cold stone.
There had to be another way. Walking through the heavy iron gate he’d used before would mean certain doom, as they would more than likely be waiting for the first squeak of the hinges.
He refused to believe there would only be one way in or out. Surely, when goods were delivered they had to be brought through some other door, better hidden from outsiders.
Finally, he found it. A pair of wooden doors set deep in the stone wall. It would be no work whatsoever to open them.
If only he knew what he would find upon entering.
“What took so long for you to return?”
He jumped at the sound of her voice—knowing, nearly humorous—and turned to find Ailsa waiting for him, seated on a low-hanging tree branch. She swung her legs back and forth as though she were nothing but a lass playing a game.
Perhaps she was playing a game, at that. Perhaps he would do well to remember it.
“I asked a question,” she murmured, staring at him in the darkness. Waiting to see if he would tell a lie. “Why did it take so long for you to return?”
“It was a long walk.”
“Did you meet anyone along the way? Perhaps you told them what we are doing here, how I keep your sister captive. How I stole her gold.”
So Mary had made it back safely. He supposed he ought to be grateful for that, at least.
However… “I dinna think much of ye assuming I would do any such thing. I would not betray ye.”
She snarled, leaping from the branch and landing just in front of him. “Did you give even a moment’s thought to what this might do?” she hissed. “Did it occur to you that you could have alerted outsiders to what we are on about here, even without intending to?”
“I did no such thing.”
“How can you be so certain?” She folded her arms, sneering in a haughty manner that threatened to make him lose his temper. He had never been able to stand a haughty woman, especially one who did not know the first thing about that which she spoke.
“Because I took pains not to alert anyone to my movement.” He looked down at his boots. Destroyed, they were. “Does it appear to ye that I have been walking over an established road? Far from it. I walked the woods, through snow and mud, to return without bringing attention to myself. This is hardly the first time I’ve ever been forced to do so. Or did McTavish neglect to tell ye of my time in the Guard? Ye asked why it took so long for me to return. The reason is, I went around the village to avoid notice. I might have arrived hours ago had I not, and would have spared my feet a great deal of trouble, as well.”
By the time he’d finished, the woman’s mouth hung open. “What?” he asked. “What did I say?”
She blinked. “It is not what you said, but how much you said. I do not believe you have spoken that many words at once since you arrived.”
He snorted, though there was little humor in the situation or in her observation. “I like to keep to myself. But what I said is true just the same. I took my time of returning so no one would be aware of ye.”
She pursed her lips, looking from his face to his boots and back down again. “No one asked you to return.”
“It was never a question of whether or not I would. I had to.”
“You did not.”
“I did. And I would do it again.”
“Why?” she challenged, throwing back her head. “Because you believe your sister to be in the wrong company? Because she cannot be trusted to decide for herself?”
“Because…ye dinna need to know.”
“I believe I do.”
“I believe ye are wrong. Ye dinna need to know my reasons.”
“I would like to know your reasons for taking away someone who has meant a great deal to all of us.”
“I dinna explain myself to anyone.”
She glared at him, nostrils flaring, muscles twitching in her jaw as she more than likely thought up any number of terrible things she would like to say. He nearly wished she would, for he had more than a few things he would have liked to charge her with, as well.
For instance, taking an innocent lass’s savings—everything she had in the world—without telling her how it would be used or offering anything in return but the promise of death. For that would certainly be the end of these so-called spies and assassins. Their work would lead to their deaths, most assuredly.
He drew a deep breath, just as she did. Both of them, standing beside a tall, stone wall, bathed in shadow. Both of them struggling to control their tempers. For a moment, Clyde saw the humor in the situation.
Though he suspected she would not. With this in mind, he held his tongue. At least, in regards to this. But there was still a great deal left to be said. And if they were to get anywhere together, he knew it would be up to him to make the peace.
“It is clear now Mary cannot be dissuaded from risking her life,” he began. “And do believe me when I tell ye that her life is all that concerns me. I do not care one way or another what ye and the rest of these young women do. She is my concern, and I feel a great responsibility toward her.”
“Because of your wife.”
He nodded. “I would think ye of all people would be able to understand some of what that means. If your husband had a younger sister who ye knew had no parents, no prospects, would ye not consider it your responsibility to look after her? How can I in good conscience allow her to do this without at least trying to see to her safety?”
“If you wish to see to her safety, then instruct her. Train her. Be hard on her if you have to. Be hard on all of them, in fact. I want my girls to know everything there is to know before I send them off on missions. I want them to have every tool at their disposal.”
“Ye told me yourself upon our first meeting that ye did not believe my presence was required.”
Her eyes darted away, and he suspected that were they in the light she might blush in recognition of her folly. “It is not that I fail to see the importance of the instruction you’ve come to give. It is that I knew a man, any man, would feel he knew better than I what needs to be done.”
She took a step closer, staring up at him with hands on her hips. “And you did, just as I predicted. You believed you knew better, and that the only way to see to Mary’s safety was to kidnap her from this place.”
“I didna kidnap the lass.”
“But you did. She is a grown woman, fully able to choose for herself. No one wishes to harm her here. She is in good hands. Yet you took her, bound and gagged, and threw her over the saddle before leading her away. What do you think kidnapping is? Regardless of the intentions, you performed the act. That is all I need to know.”
“I simply do not believe this is right for her.”
“That is not for you to say. But I see you’re beginning to understand. If she wishes to remain here, and you wish to do right by her, it would behoove you to arm her as best you can. Is that correct?”
He nodded. “That is correct.”
“That is why you returned.”
“Aye,” he admitted grudgingly, reluctantly. But if this was what it took to earn a bit of trust and to ensure he was able to keep watch over Mary, it was worthwhile.
Even if the somewhat smug expression on Ailsa’s face, still visible in the dark, set his teeth on edge. She believed she’d won, that she had broken him down and forced him to confess that which he would have rather kept to hims
elf. She had no way of knowing how he resented this.
Or perhaps she did. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed it so. It was already clear from their short acquaintance that she had been somehow ill-used by men in the past. She imagined them all to hold something against her.
Just his luck, being forced into dealing with a resentful wench just for Mary’s sake.
It had been a long several days, this one being longest, and he wanted nothing more than to sit by a fire and forget the entire misadventure. “Well, then? Have I earned the right to enter once again? Do ye believe I can be trusted?”
Rather than answer straightaway, Ailsa looked at his boots once again. “I suppose you would like to rest.”
He saw through her words. This was not an innocent observation. He suspected very few things coming from the woman’s mouth were innocent. “I have been through worse. Much worse, in fact.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“Ye canna use the promise of a warm bed before a fire to force a promise from me. I will sleep in the mud if I have to, which I have done before.”
She scowled. “For a man of few words, you certainly seem to speak a great deal when you have a mind to.”
“I think ye will find that when it comes to those of whom I am deeply fond, I do what needs to be done whether or not it comes naturally to me.”
She jerked her chin upward in what he supposed was a grudging sign of respect. “I suppose we have this in common. Fair enough, then. If I have your vow that you will not attempt anything like this again, you might rejoin us. But I promise you this—” A slow smile spread over her face.
He suspected she might have been quite lovely were it not for the malice in her eyes.
“I will report you to Douglas McTavish the moment you step out of line again. I do not care how fond Mary is of you, nor how fond you are of her. And you might very well be the most skilled fighter there ever was, but it will matter little to me if you cannot be trusted to do your job to the best of your ability. Do I make myself clear?”
He’d heard battle-hardened men shouting orders across the field while in the thick of a fight, and she brought them to mind at that moment. He respected that, respected the fierceness and loyalty so evident in her words, her actions. This did not mean he agreed with her methods, but it was a start.
He could work with anyone, so long as he respected them.
“Aye. You make yourself clear.”
“Then I have your vow?”
This was too much. “For the love of all that is holy, woman, would you prefer a blood oath? Shall I draw the blade across my wrist to prove my intentions?”
He expected her to respond in anger. Yet she surprised him by laughing merrily. When she did, years seemed to melt away. She sounded and looked like a carefree lass, if only for a moment. “No, I do not require blood. You have made your point. Come, then. It is growing late, and I would like my supper.”
He took a deep breath before stepping through the double doors, knowing this time he would not be leaving so soon.
And if this Ailsa Dunne insisted upon asserting her authority at every turn, when he did leave it might be in a wooden box, on the way to his grave.
9
“Nay, nay.” Clyde shook his head, waving his massive hands. “I told ye, ye canna come at me like a charging bear. When ye react out of anger or frustration, ye leave yourself open.”
He looked at the girls, taking them in one at a time. “Do ye ken? Ye must keep a cool head.” He tapped a finger against the side of Jamesina’s skull, gentle, but deliberate. “Ye must learn to keep yourself…apart from what goes on around ye.”
From her place two floors above, looking down into the courtyard, Ailsa saw the confusion on their faces. Instinct implored her to shout out a clearer explanation of what Clyde tried to say.
Yet she knew it would mean doing everyone an injustice if she were to interfere. Let him create a better understanding between himself and the girls.
Besides, she reminded herself with a secret snarl, had she not promised to stay out of his way when it came time for him to do what he did best? How it got under her skin, having to stand back and hold her tongue.
It was nearly humorous, watching him interact with them. He was so much larger, like a grown man among mere babes. He might just as easily have crushed Jamesina’s skull like a nut.
Yet he had not. In fact, she had no choice but to admit—if only to herself—that he seemed to have a way with speaking to the girls. Never would she have imagined a man such as himself to possess patience.
In that, he reminded her of Thomas. Just a bit. He’d been a large man, as well, possessed of a deep, booming voice which could easily inspire fear when he chose to raise it in anger.
But he had never raised it in anger against her. Not once, not ever. For beneath it all he’d been the gentlest man she’d ever known.
Such a man as he hardly deserved the end he’d come to. Even the mere thought of it caused tears to prick behind her eyes.
She reminded herself it was Clyde she needed to think about and watch over. He rubbed his hands together, searching for a way to explain himself. “It does not matter what happens around ye. It does not even matter what your opponent does to ye. If they are better skilled than ye, larger, faster. If they insult ye or harm another in your presence, while there is nothing to be done about it. Ye canna allow any of it to get in here.” He tapped the side of his shaved head, where perspiration had begun to bead up after going through the motions of a fight with several of the girls.
Ailsa had to admit admiring the dedication with which he worked, taking the girls on one at a time rather than pairing them up to practice on each other.
A lesser man might have found a way to avoid such strain, but he chose to have all of the girls watch and learn from each bit of training. He went slowly, methodically, explaining aloud each move he made and each move his opponent ought to make in response.
He then explained why, rather than simply ordering them about with no understanding of why they were to act a certain way.
It pained her to think it, but there was little for Ailsa to criticize. In fact, though she would never have spoken the words aloud, she was beginning to think this man might have been sent by the angels themselves.
Though he certainly did not appear as though he’d come from any such place.
He positioned Jamesina before him again, hands on her shoulders. “Now,” he said, looking down at her. “Take a deep breath and forget everything we just did. Ye have never fought with me before. Ye ken?”
She nodded, wide-eyed and perhaps overwhelmed.
Ailsa’s heart went out to her, though she was quick to tamp down this soft reaction. There was no room for such womanly feelings here.
“Now.” He took a few steps back. “Ye have found your way into a private room and are searching for something. I enter the room. I dinna believe ye are here by accident. Ye can either allow me to leave and report ye, or ye can kill me where I stand and make a quick escape. What will ye do?”
Jamesina took a second deep breath before squaring her shoulders and walking toward him with purpose. As she did, she withdrew a thin blade from a sash tied around her waist and held it close to her body, in her skirts.
Only when she took one final step toward Clyde did she bring her arm out, thrusting the blade toward him.
He merely swept her arm aside. “Ye still gave me too much time to react. Come at me with murder in your eyes and I will surely be on my guard. Soften your gaze and do it again.”
She did as she was told, her jaw tight with frustration. Jamesina was intense, determined, and Ailsa could only imagine it frustrated her terribly to be shown up in front of the others.
Yet she did manage to appear less murderous on the next attempt, and this time she did not reveal her weapon as soon as she had before.
Even so, Clyde swept her arm away. “What do ye do now?” he asked.
Jamesina grunted, openly f
rustrated even though Clyde had warned her against it, and made another attempt by thrusting the blade his way. This time, she very nearly caught his stomach, but he moved aside just in time.
For such a large man, he was quick on his feet.
“Fine, fine,” he said, “but what can ye do if I do this?” In a burst of movement, he grasped her wrist tight enough that the knife fell to the ground, where he kicked it away. “What can ye do now? Come, come. Use your fists, lass. What did I show ye earlier?”
She glared at him with pure, cold hatred, making Ailsa hold her breath in wait for what was to come. What would she do?
“Come on, now!” Clyde fairly bellowed. “He will not give ye time to make up your mind, lass. He will harm ye or even kill ye! What will ye do to stop him?”
Jamesina did the only thing she could think to do.
She curled her free hand into a fist and punched Clyde squarely between the legs.
He fairly roared, releasing her in an instant that he might bend at the waist.
The girls gasped, a few of them looking stricken.
For her part, Jamesina was one of them. “Forgive me!” she pleaded, hands clasped. “But that was all I could think to do to stop ye. Ye were shouting so—”
“Jamesina!” Ailsa called out, shocked for his sake yet perhaps somewhat amused that things had come to this. She could have warned him if he’d thought to ask that some of these young women were a bit rough around the edges. A few of them had fought for everything in life thanks to useless fathers and brothers who’d left them on their own.
The girl looked up, shamefaced. Ailsa shook her head, disapproving.
Clyde looked up as well, unsurprised that she had been watching. “Ye need not speak for me,” he assured her. “I can manage well enough.”
Och, yes, it looks as though you are doing a fine job of it. She held her tongue, but just barely. Who did he believe himself to be? Telling her she need not speak for him when she’d been about to chastise Jamesina and warn the others against such behavior.
A Highlander's Second Chance: Highland Temptations Page 7
