“Donell, lass,” he supplied at the unspoken prompt. “Do ye think mayhap that sometimes whatever gets through might be better off on the other side? E’en if it were an accident that got them there? As if it were all fated somehow?”
Her lips parted, then closed. That was the most confounded question she’d ever been asked before. “Donell, have we met somewhere before?”
“Och, nay, lass. I’m sure I’d remember.” He turned away. “I should be going now… aboot my duties.”
Al watched him amble into the darkness, feeling a spark of panic. “Donell!”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Aye, lass?”
“Sometimes accidents are exactly what need to happen to find real happiness.” It was awful and cryptic but she felt like it needed to be said. “I’m just saying, it’d be a shame to try to undo something that turned out all right in the end. Right?”
He nodded slowly. “Just so, lass. Just so. Ye’ll be ha’ing a care for yerself in the days ahead, then?”
“Yes, I will.”
With another nod, he carried on, disappearing into the darkness. Who was he? He did seem awfully familiar.
“You do have an odd way with people, Miss Maines,” Ceana said from behind her. “Everyone from Duke to stable hand.”
“Is that who he is?” Al asked. “Do you know him?”
“Old Donell’s been around Rosebraugh off and on since I was a child,” she said.
“He reminds me of…” Honestly, he looked a lot like the old janitor who’d worked at Mark-Davis when she’d first been hired there years before. She used to talk to him in the cafeteria when she worked late and the place was practically deserted. One of those long conversations had sparked the idea that led to the construct she’d developed for the wormhole stabilization.
She peered back to the shadows where the old man disappeared. In fact, he looked just like him… Wasn’t that strange?
“Reminds you of who?”
“My grandfather,” she lied. “He seems nice.”
Ceana shrugged. “He always had a particular fondness for Hugh. Heard him say to my mother once that he thought Hugh was meant for better things. What could be better than being a duke?”
Al hoped she wasn’t expected to answer that question. Instead, she changed the subject, but was determined to find the old man when they returned from Edinburgh.
“I wanted to thank you for lending me your dress the other night. It was very kind of you.”
She seemed surprised by the gratitude. “You know, I’m not sure what to make of you, Miss Maines.”
Well, that made them even. Clearly, there was more to Ceana than met the eye. What more, she wasn’t sure.
“At first, given what Maeve said about you, I was certain you’d had some sort of hand in Hugh’s death. Then I was certain you were angling after my cousin. Working to rise from whatever hole you climbed out of to a countess’s coronet. Clearly, you’re hiding something. Your behavior is just too… odd for you not to be.”
Look who was talking.
“But Mathilde has taken a real shine to you and she’s normally quite discerning and Keir… well, he does seem to care for you to some measure. I cannot really tell.”
Welcome to the club.
“And you care about him. For more than his wealth and position, I mean. But again, to what degree I cannot say.”
She waited, her eyes glittering in the light of the lantern, but Al wasn’t going to say either and she must have guessed it. With a sigh, her rigid shoulders slumped marginally. “I heard old Donell telling you to have a care for yourself but do have a care for my cousin as well. Not just his heart but in these days ahead. Keep him safe.”
Wow, maybe Ceana really wasn’t so bad after all.
“Of course, if anything happens to him, I might just have to finish what Maeve started.”
Or not.
With a wave and a laugh that left Al feeling uncertain whether she was serious or not, Ceana patted the now-staid horse on the nose and left the stable.
Nut jobs or not, the many members of the MacCoinnach and Urquhart clans were certainly interesting. They’d keep her on her toes, that much was certain.
She just wished everything else was as assured. If Keir really cared for her as much as both his cousins seemed to think he did.
And more importantly. Would it last?
Could it?
Accidents happen for a reason.
Chapter 33
Three days later
Dusk was almost upon them. And then they would be on the short final leg of their journey into Edinburgh.
Al wasn’t quite certain how she was going to find the fortitude to walk into the town when every muscle in her body was screaming in pain.
Three days, Keir had said. Three days of pure hell, he should have said. It might not have changed her mind about coming along but it would have at least prepped her for the reality of what she was getting herself into.
Oh, she’d managed to find the rhythm of riding the horse after the first several hours when it was either that or a continuous pounding to her rear end. But nothing could be done to spare her the desperate cramping on the inside of her legs.
At least now she knew why Ceana had looked so self-satisfied three days ago when she’d first mounted her horse. When she got back to Rosebraugh—if she got back—she was going to kick that woman in the teeth.
And there’d been little to comfort her since they’d departed other than such heart-warming thoughts. Keir was still stewing in the simmering in the juices of his bad temper. Leaving her to experience the misery of riding in the pelting rain on her own.
Leaving her to Mathilde and Artair’s company rather than providing his own. Leaving her plenty of time to wonder about accidents and doorways and fate.
Such abstract thoughts weren’t really her forte at all. It was the sciences that had always drawn her. Hard-core fact. She’d saved her fairytales for fiction not Platonian philosophies.
She wished she could talk to Keir about it all. But he was giving her the silent treatment, repeatedly making his point that he hadn’t wanted her along.
Hadn’t wanted her in harm’s way.
His point might have been more effectively made if he hadn’t come to her at night and curled beneath the blankets of her pallet with her. Massaging away the ache in her thighs and bottom for her. Warming her against the chill of the dampness that lingered. Then holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Whispering sweet Gaelic in her ear that might very well have been scolding but sounded far more loving.
How could the words be anything else as he made love to her under the cover of his tartan?
She’d loved sleeping spooned alongside his hard body but she’d been surprised and perhaps a wee bit mortified when his wayward hands had first found their way to her breasts, then between her thighs. His warm lips nuzzling the nape of her neck with Artair, Mathilde, and a handful of his clansmen not more than twenty feet away.
But he had plucked her nipples until her body sang for him as always, played her with his skillful fingers until she was wet and throbbing, helplessly grinding her bottom against his groin. Without hesitation, he’d pushed up her skirts and entered her from behind, sliding in and out in a sensual dance. Silencing her with a kiss when she couldn’t stop herself from crying out as the cataclysmic crescendo struck.
Only to ignore her the next morning, leaving her alone to blush under Mathilde’s knowing smiles and Artair’s reproachful glares.
Last night, she’d only fallen to sleep in his strong embrace, exhausted from the journey. From the worry and apprehension of what lay ahead.
She’d woken in his arms this morning, legs twined with his. Her cheek resting on his chest. Listening to his heart’s steady beat as the sun began to rise. Pink whispered across the canvas of purples and reds. Lightening. Brightening.
Not nearly as beautiful as that steady rhythm.
Birds called in the distance,
sweetly heralding the new day as if it were to be a fine one. The weather might be. Al could only hope their mission would shine so bright.
Keir stirred beneath her, his arms tightening around her. Wakening drowsily, he nuzzled her hair. His fingers finding the long braid she’d been wearing for the past few days and unconsciously winding it around his fist.
As if she were a part of him. An extension.
As he was already a part of her.
Live your life wi’ me, lass.
Oh, she wanted to. Wanted to be a part of his always. But did “always” ever last? She’d never known anyone who’d stayed together before. Not when things got rough. Not when they should have clung to each other even more tightly in times of adversity.
As she was clinging to him now.
For the rest of our lives.
As he was holding her?
“Tell me ye’ll stay here, lass,” he whispered in her ear.
Her heart leapt at the thought that he meant for her to stay in his arms.
“Tell me ye’ll nae go tae the tolbooth.”
Her heart sank.
“I’ll do what must be done, Keir. Just as you will.”
Pushing aside the blankets, she rolled away from him. Ignoring him when he reached for her braid.
He disappeared after that. She hadn’t seen him all day. Disappointed, a little heartbroken, she’d traveled with Mathilde, Artair, and the rest of the men to an inn just outside Edinburgh. There she’d spent the day checking and rechecking her wiring, wrapping them in waxed parchment so they wouldn’t touch until she wanted them to and accidentally blow up the inn.
They would need to be leaving soon.
Where was he?
Chapter 34
“Ride ahead then, but wait for us ootside the borough. We’ll move in together, keeping tae the shadows. Once ye hear the signal, we’ll attack the guards and Sassenach platoon as one and drive them away from the tolbooth until the escape is made good.”
Keir scrutinized the group of men assembled in the stable behind the inn. Sixty men, one and all who’d lost dearly to the battle at Culloden, gathering at his call to free their clansmen.
Each one a true and loyal Highlander.
Each one eager for a bit of revenge against the Butcher who’d ravaged the countryside and their homes giving no quarter along the way.
No quarter. He had begun to revile the term and the unconscionable carnage committed under the auspices of Cumberland’s act.
Aye, he was eager for a bit of revenge himself.
“We’ll need tae move quickly, lads,” he warned. “As the prisoners are freed from the prison, take one up wi’ ye tae hasten our retreat. The fewer left afoot, the better off we’ll be. Aye?”
“Aye!”
He nodded at their enthusiasm. “We’ve brought a fair arsenal wi’ us from Rosebraugh. Available tae ye if ye dinnae hae arms. See yerselves ready and ride. I’ll follow shortly.”
The group disbanded, murmuring among themselves. Hopefully they would have enough men to accomplish their mission. To free, not just his father, but all those men about to cross through the valley of death.
What would happen to them after, he had no idea. Hopefully with a clean get away, the foot soldiers and militia being held would be forgotten. Their insignificant political importance making the effort to retrieve them improbable.
As for the others, the title lairds and men of rank, Keir wasn’t sure what would become of them. Openly arresting them would be inadvisable even for a man of Cumberland’s rank. On the other hand, he might defy logic and pursue them even in the public eye. So, would his father be able to return to Dingwall? Take up the reins as its laird once more? He didn’t know.
Perhaps it didn’t matter.
Freeing them, making as big an example as Cumberland intended when it came to proving that a Highland laird was more than just a title to be taken away.
That’s what mattered.
Keeping Al safe in the process. Aye, well, that mattered even more. He’d thought he could wait her out, give her plenty of time to think about what she was planning to do. Time to change her mind.
She had not.
In all his days he’d never met a female so bloody stubborn. He didn’t just weep for the future of men any longer. Nay, he despaired for them.
How was a man supposed to protect his own if she didn’t allow him to do his duty?
Nay, she had to be right in the thick of it without thought to her own frailty. One misstep, one confrontation with a Sassenach soldier, might see her cleaved in two.
Her plan—even though it was a bloody fine plan—didn’t sit well with him. But she had a point, bugger it all. The men guarding the prisoner wouldn’t give a look beyond the salacious to a pair of women. If they were questioned, they’d only have to say they were on the way to visit the redcoats camp to sell treats from their baskets.
Aye, unlike an armed man, she’d be able to walk right up to the prison door. No one would consider a wee, delicate woman like her a threat. A danger. She might even linger for a minute or two before she was questioned.
Al assured him it was all she would need.
Bloody hell, he couldn’t bear to let her do it. It was those who might assume they were selling more than just their wares and press them for even sweeter delights that he worried about. What might happen to her if her purpose was discovered. He longed to hold her back, even knowing the benefit that might come from her participation.
“Are ye nae going tae ask me tae come along, brother?” Artair asked after the other men had all wandered away. “Do ye nae think I can raise arms against my enemy?”
Keir slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Nay, brother. I ken ye could. But I need ye tae be here tae minister tae the injured who might return. And…,” he paused with a heavy sigh, “see tae it Al returns safely if something should happen tae me. It may nae be a war, but ‘twill be a battle in any case. I am nae delusional enough tae think we will achieve the whole of our goal wi’oot some loss of life. Mayhap my own.”
“Ye’ve ne’er lost a fight in yer life,” Artair teased uneasily.
“There’s a first time for everything. No one can live forever.”
Silence fell between the brothers.
“I would ne’er let any harm befall Miss Maines,” Artair said at length. “I care for her.”
“As do I.”
His brother shifted uneasily, rocking up on his toes. “Do ye plan tae keep her then?”
He almost laughed. As if Al were some simple creature who could be kept. He could hardly keep up with her.
“I plan tae wed her, Artair. I hope ye will wish us happy.”
His brother grimaced. “Truly? Ye hae nae showed much kindness tae her these last few days beyond…” He flushed and glanced away.
“That isnae yer concern. Know she has my heart. I’m merely uneasy aboot her role in our plan for the night and she willnae let me dissuade her from taking part in it.”
“Aye, I’d thought her a biddable lass, but…” Artair’s lips tightened in an exaggerated grimace that made Keir want to laugh. Aye, Al had too much spunk for a staid man like his brother. Though he’d never mention it, he was surprised Artair had even thought to try to make a preacher’s wife out of her. “Keir, I like the lass… but Father. Ye ken he’ll nae like it.”
He rolled his eyes. “If Father survives this night, he should be grateful enough tae let it pass but I dinnae care for his opinion on the matter one way or the other. Al will be mine.”
“Unless ye die.”
“Aye, only that would keep me from her.”
* * *
“Ye’re leaving then?”
Al peeked up from the ties of her cloak, her heart rate accelerating. “In a few minutes.”
Darkness had already fallen. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t see him again before she left. Wondered if he would continue to give her the cold shoulder and then never have the chance to berate her once more,
if that’s what he wanted to do. She’d take even that if it meant seeing him again just in case…
Tears burned at her eyes but Al blinked them back. She knew what they were about to do was dangerous. She wasn’t a fool. But whatever he thought, her part in it was minor. She was just a player not the hero.
It was his neck on the line and damn it, she wanted to hug it one last time just in case it was the last time.
If only he didn’t seem so foreboding, much as he had down in the dungeons. His arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes gleaming in the darkness. But with what emotion she couldn’t say.
Vision clouded with unshed tears, she tucked her head down and fumbled with ties at the neck of her cloak. A second later, warm hands covered hers. With a soft squeeze, he pushed them away and finished the job himself.
His rough fingertips caressed the line of her jaw and tilted her chin up. “Lass, ye dinnae hae tae do this.” His brogue was thick, husky.
“Of course, I do.”
“Mo rúnsearc…” He trailed off and sighed heavily.
“What is that?” she whispered, running her fingers into the curling hair clinging to his neck. “What does it mean?”
“It literally translates as my secret love,” he admitted, looking away. “It means beloved.”
“Oh, an endearment then?”
“‘Tis nae merely an endearment, lass,” he corrected, his voice low. “I’ve ne’er used it before. But perhaps it isnae entirely correct either.”
A poignant ache gripped Al’s heart. No, of course it wasn’t. She’d never been anyone’s beloved before.
“I might hae better said mo shíorghrá or m’fhíorghrá. Either would be more fitting. More true tae what I feel.” He gazed down at her, stroking the hair back from her temple tenderly. “Do ye ken what that means?”
She shook her head. He knew she didn’t.
“It means my eternal love.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingertips. She was riveted by the intensity of his vivid eyes. “My true love.”
Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) Page 22
