by Aileen Adams
“I have never stolen from another, so I dinna know how to answer that.”
“Ye lie,” she snapped. “Ye know I speak the truth. Just as ye must know I would rather not have my brother here. I never wished for him to have any part of this.”
She tossed the rag to the floor, snickering in disgust. To his surprise, rather than go on, she held her head in her hands. Her thin shoulders shook as emotions wracked her body.
What to do? His hands twitched in an effort to reach for her or at least pat her back and apologize for pushing so hard. He knew she hadn’t truly led her brother into this. She loved him too deeply. He was everything she cared about in the world.
He’d just recently come to understand that, himself.
“Perhaps we have a great deal more in common than we imagined,” he mused as she worked to contain herself. The shaking lessened until it was little more than a tremble.
Wiping her eyes, she looked at him, and he saw who she truly was for the first time. Young, yet somehow older than her years. Afraid. Brave, to be sure, but she’d been brave for much of her life. Tired.
“I take it ye dinna roam the Highlands in the middle of the night, hoping to find cattle to steal, because ye find it thrilling.” He stood, extending a hand to her. “Come. I wish to talk with ye. I wish to start from the beginning that we might know each other better.”
It was with a resigned sigh that she accepted the gesture, her small hand fitting neatly inside his. He led her to the small table at which he took meals with the bairns and sat her in Moira’s customary chair. Sitting across from her, he folded his hands atop the table and fixed her with a hard stare. “I would like ye to tell me the truth. There is nothing I can do for ye if ye will not tell the truth.”
“Do for me?” she asked, her face screwing up in disbelief. “How is that? What could ye do for me now?”
“To start, I could see to it that ye dinna spend the rest of your life in prison for reiving.” His temper threatened to flare up, but he managed to keep it under control. For the time being, in any case.
She seemed to accept this. “Fair enough. ‘Tis tiresome, trying to outthink ye.”
“Ye admit it, then,” he chuckled. “I’ve done the same. I must admit, I’ve never had anything to do with someone such as yourself before. A thief.”
“And what are ye, then?” she asked, folding her hands as he did. Her eyes, no longer tear-filled or bloodshot, seemed to glow in the firelight. Or perhaps it was a vague bit of mischief making its way to the surface.
“What of myself? We weren’t speaking of—”
“Your knuckles.” She studied his hands, where he’d rested them before her.
“What of them?”
“They’re flat, all the way across. As if they’d been used—quite a lot, in fact.”
This left him shocked beyond reason. He sputtered. “What does that have to do with anything? It means nothing.”
“It means ye might not be a thief, but ye are a fighter.”
“And how would ye know that unless you’ve known many fighters in your time?”
Her brows knitted together as color rose in her cheeks. “I know what I know. Do ye deny it?”
His chest puffed out. “Nay. I dinna deny it.”
“’Tis proud ye are, then.” She raised a brow. “I see. I suppose ‘tis something to be proud of when ye have nothing else.”
“Now, look here. We sat down together to speak of ye, not of myself. I would thank ye to keep your shrewish tongue at rest, for there is but so much of that sort of talk a man can bear without losing his temper.” He flexed the fingers of the fists in which she’d taken such an interest. “My temper gained me a bit of a reputation, ye might say.”
She gulped. “I see.”
He would never strike her. He had never struck a woman in his life and had no intention of starting then. But it did not hurt for her to question whether he would if driven to the brink of losing control.
He cleared his throat, straightening his spine, signaling that they were about to begin again. “Now. Am I correct when I assume ye didna plan to have your brother with ye on your last… errand?”
She blew out short, frustrated sigh. “Aye. That is the truth.”
“He had never done such a thing before.”
“Also true.”
“Who are ye thieving for?”
He’d hoped that if the question came on the heels of two innocent ones which she’d answered with quick ease, he might lull her into admitting something much larger.
He was wrong.
Her eyes hardened. “Nay, we will not discuss it.”
“And why not? I know there is someone tellin’ ye where to go and what to do.”
“And just what makes ye think that?”
“Ye have not denied it. Ye might have told me there was no such person, but instead, ye refused to tell me their name or even speak of them.”
Her gaze fell to her clenched hands. “I see.”
A victory for him, and he knew it, but he could not stop there. So the lass had worked on behalf of another—that much had been clear for a while, upon reflection. “And they live near enough to this farm that ye have been able to make the ride to and from over the course of a single evening.”
“That, ye dinna know.”
“How do I not know it? Or are ye in the habit of traveling open roads in full daylight, leading cattle who dinna belong to yourself? Nay, I canna believe that. Though I canna say it thrills me, the thought of ye riding in the middle of the night, all alone.”
“But I am not alone.”
His brows lifted in silent surprise.
She explained, “I am with the cattle I stole.”
He chuckled, much to his dismay. She had a quick wit, and he had always fallen prey to a woman with wit. “I see. Ye know what I mean, lass. Do ye not well know what liberties men will take with a woman? Especially the sort of men who move about the Highlands in the dead of night? Rare is the man who would think twice of taking advantage.”
“Which is why I always carry a dirk, and I am quite skilled with it.”
“Ye aren’t carrying it now,” he reminded her in a low voice. “How did ye intend on protecting yourself once you’d gone out into the night?”
She paled. “I had not thought of it. I only wished to escape.”
“Without your brother.”
“’Tis a cold night. He might at least be warm here.”
“And ye would bring men back to take him from me.”
“Aye. That was the idea.”
“Ye thought nothing of the peace and safety of this farm and those on it. Ye merely cared to save your own neck, and that of your brother.”
“I would do anything for my brother,” she snarled. “Anything. Whatever it took to ensure his safety. Why do ye think—”
She turned away, her mouth snapping shut before anything more poured forth and gave him further insight into her mind. Heavens forbid he have a better idea of who he dealt with.
No matter. He had a fair enough idea already and was willing to move forward with the idea that had come to him while watching her put the bairns to bed. Though she’d clearly been overwhelmed by the need to flee—every muscle of her body had been tensed, like a hare ready to burst into action—she had treated them kindly, even sweetly. Her motherly tone had impressed him quite a bit. She had not lost her temper and railed at them to get back to bed and forget they’d ever seen her, but had instead spoken to them in a stern-yet-gentle tone.
This was not a coarse, wicked, self-serving lass before him. When she might have been abusive, she had been loving. He did not question for a moment her devotion to Liam, plague her about leading the lad astray though he might.
He needed someone like her.
And she needed him, whether she wished to believe it or not. “Anything, ye say?”
“What?”
“Ye said ye would do anything for your brother.”
“I mean
t it.”
“What if I sent him home?”
Her eyes lit up even as she frowned, trying to understand. Her excitement gave her away—she was indeed eager to see him safe. “Why would ye—I mean, without—”
“Without reporting him to the authorities. Aye. I would be willing to do so.”
Relief soon gave way to suspicion, however, which he supposed ought to come as no surprise.
“Why? What do I have to do?”
He sat back in his chair, relaxing now. Better for her to see him relaxed. She would trust him more easily. “It has become clear to me that we need each other. Ye need me to remain silent on who ye are and what ye have done, or else ye have a long stretch of prison awaiting ye.”
“What do ye need me for, then? If ye believe me the sort to—”
He waved his hands, shaking his head with a humorless smile. “Nay, lass. Och, do ye believe me the sort to take advantage of a lass in a desperate way?”
“I am not desperate.”
“Och, certainly,” he smirked. “Not at all. Ye are in complete control of yourself and what happens to ye.”
“All right, all right.” She waved her hands, clearly frustrated. “What did ye have in mind, then? I dinna have all night to sit and speak with ye.”
“It seems ye do have all night if I say ye have all night.” The joviality left his voice and his manner. She still did not understand who held the reins. He was in control of this, and she had better remember it. “Otherwise, I might be of a mind to take a drive into the village tomorrow.”
She drew a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her jaw. My, but she did have a temper. Perhaps one that could match his own, and he had never imagined finding one like his.
“The fact is this,” he explained, serious now. “I need someone to mind the bairns and the house. I dinna have the time for it, not while I work. As ye have seen, they both need quite a lot of attention and time. I have neither.”
Her eyes moved over his face, studying him, waiting for more. Otherwise, she moved not a muscle. “Ye wish for me to mind the bairns? Here?”
“Here.”
“Living here.”
“That is what I mean, aye.”
A short, quiet laugh escaped her. “Forgive me, but this is all very sudden. I dinna know what to make of it. Ye wish to keep me here? What of the rest of the farm?”
“What of them?”
“Will they not question where I came from? Why I am here?”
“Allow me to handle that, please. It is none of your concern.”
“I merely wondered.”
“As I said, there is no reason for ye to wonder. I have it under control.”
“I thought the same thing, myself,” she replied with a rather grim smile. “Yet here I am. Are ye certain ye trust me to keep watch on them?”
“I do.”
“And if I stay, ye will allow Liam to return home? And ye will never breathe a word of his being involved with me?”
“Ye have my solemn vow, lass, and I never break a vow.”
She nodded quickly, distracted by her own thoughts. “I must admit, I am tempted.”
“That will not be enough. Either ye shall do it or ye shall not. I have no time for ye if ye plan to take your time in deciding. Frankly, I dinna believe there is a decision to be made. I am giving ye a way out of paying for your crime, and I believe I’ve been quite generous in offering.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dinna overpraise yourself, I beg ye. If ye were truly a generous soul, ye would allow Liam his leave simply because he is innocent and only wished to join me to prove himself a brave man.”
He grinned. “Aye, well, I suppose I am not truly generous. I need help. Ye need me to forget the fact that I found ye stealing our cattle. It seems this benefits us both.”
She chewed her lip as she nodded again. “I see that.”
“What will it be, then? ‘Tis up to ye. Either ye do or ye dinna.” He folded his hands behind his neck as if he had not a care in the world, even as his heart thumped madly. This was a terrible gamble, and he knew it. She seemed to know it as well, which gave him no great consolation.
“Might I have until morning to think about it?”
He laughed in disbelief. “Lass, I dinna think ye understand.”
“I do understand,” she replied, icy. “But it isn’t so simple for me. Ye still dinna know all, and I will not tell ye all, so dinna bother asking.”
“Fine. I dinna care, either.” He did care. He cared very much. If he was sending the lad back to something unsuitable, he wanted to know. Was that what the lass felt she must protect him from?
And what would his life be like without her there?
She stared over his shoulder, her thoughts elsewhere while she chewed at her lip. Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowed. For one so young, she bore quite a bit of responsibility.
“Ye have until morning,” he decided, “though that is not far off. Ye might share the bed with your brother while I wait out here.”
“Ye will not go to bed?” she asked, frowning deeper than ever.
“I shall sit up and keep watch. So dinna consider trying to escape,” he added, his voice deepening with unspoken threat. “I will not be so generous next time. And anything we have discussed tonight is forgotten. No mercy for ye or your brother. Do ye ken?”
She nodded as she rose from the table, and the slump of her shoulders was all he needed to see to know she despaired of her decision. Perhaps she despaired of a great many things.
Somehow, for some reason, he wished he could help her.
“Goodnight to ye, then,” he grunted, going to the fire that he might tend it. Yet another night without decent rest. Surely, he could not continue on in this manner for much longer.
Something tugged at the back of his mind, warning him that he’d not get much rest if the lass lived with him. She would either drive him to murderous rage or to something even more dangerous to them both.
12
There was no sense in trying to escape. She saw that clearly.
She also saw that there was no winning. Not anymore. Either she sent Liam back to Malcolm’s abuse, or she kept him with her and subjected him to even worse.
There was no way to protect him.
As she settled into bed beside him—her nose wrinkled at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as the man beyond the closed door—her heart was heavier than it had been since their capture. She worked at the ropes still binding Liam’s wrists, moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake him. The brute had put him to bed with his wrists bound.
Yet the bairns seemed to love him. They certainly did not fear him. And they were sharp, all-seeing. They would surely know if he was a brute, and they would show it through action. They would fear waking him, for waking him would bring wrath down upon their heads.
Children afraid of waking adults would not wander out of bed and ask a perfect stranger if they might accompany her.
What would Malcolm do when only one of them returned? Would he send someone for her? She thought he might consider it, but would then quickly see the error in any such action. It would mean revealing himself as the man who’d told her to do the reiving. He would not wish to expose himself.
She settled in, Liam’s back to her, propping her head on one arm and draping the other over him for extra warmth. It seemed the bairns had gotten most of the furs, for only a single blanket and the sparsest brown pelt covered the bed.
She ought to have asked why the children lived with him and how long they had, but his request had surprised her beyond the point of reason. She’d been sure she’d misheard him, in fact, and had nearly laughed in his face. The idea of it! Her, minding his niece and nephew!
Living beyond Malcolm’s grasp.
Och, but it was tempting. A life spent without that miserable horde.
But without Liam.
Could she convince him to keep Liam with them? No sense in sending him back. But that would seem s
trange, would it not? Bringing on a lass to mind the bairns was one thing, but her brother as well? And what would he do with his days?
Besides, Malcolm might be better inclined to send someone to look for them if they both remained missing—not because he would worry over them, naturally, but because he would miss the prizes she brought home to him. Liam could explain what had happened and assure him they’d not spoken a word or even revealed his name.
Would that be enough?
She squeezed her eyes shut and wished sleep would come and remove some of the worry from her, for at least a little while. It seemed all she ever did was worry. Would there never be a time when life would be easy? She supposed not. Life was not meant to be easy.
Not for people such as her.
She drew Liam closer when he shivered in an attempt to warm him, and to spend a few minutes more at his side. For he would leave her—she knew there was no other choice she could make. Staying might be just as disastrous as living without her protection under Malcolm’s roof.
If only she could make Drew understand, but that would mean revealing more than she should. No matter how she looked at it, there was nothing to be done.
There was never anything to be done. She never had a choice. There had been no denying Malcolm, just as there was now no denying Drew. Her entire life had followed this path. She’d either been too young to decide for herself, or had no alternative to agreeing to whatever Malcolm wished.
And now, this.
“I did what I could,” she whispered in a voice thick with tears. “I ought to have done more for ye, though. I know that now. I am so sorry. Forgive me if ye can.”
Morning came too soon.
Drew tapped on the door before opening it a moment later. She had not been asleep, not truly—the best she’d managed was a brief sort of dozing, in which she’d always been aware of her surroundings and of the certain finality of the choice to be made.
Liam woke then, finally. The lad could sleep through an explosion. He lifted one of his hands, turning it about in wonder. “When…?”
“Good morning.” She forced a sunny smile in spite of everything. “I untied ye while ye slept.”
