A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)

by Aileen Adams

  “Slavery?”

  “Do you honestly believe my marriage to your brother would’ve been anything else?”

  “I doubt he would’ve made you his slave.”

  As always, anger bubbled up in her chest. His dismissive tone! How could he sound that way? “Do you think we would have been friends? Companions? Do you think we would’ve shared each other’s lives the way my aunt and uncle did? And before you accuse me of setting my sights too high, I’d ask you to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that at all. I would’ve commended you for knowing what it is you want—even if it is, perhaps, a bit farfetched.”

  “I hate you when you say things like that.”

  “I know.”

  “And yet you do it anyway.” She glared at him, still only seeing his profile as he stared straight ahead. Was it her imagination, or was he smiling ever so slightly?

  “You’ve always been one to allow your fancy to get the better of your reason.”

  “And you’ve always been one to allow your tongue to get the better of your self-preservation.”

  “I know this. I don’t intend to hurt you when I speak as I do.”

  “Oh? What is it, then? Do you intend to make me happy? If that’s the case, you fall short.”

  “I’ve never been skilled at diplomacy. You know this. Why do you expect me to be better than I am, when you’ve known me your entire life?”

  She snorted, looking away, closer to tears than ever. “Perhaps I thought you would’ve changed in all these years. Perhaps something good would’ve come out of all the time you spent away. You might have grown up a bit.”

  “I grew up, lass,” he growled. “Just not in the way you wish.”

  “Evidently.”

  It was likely a blessing that they came up on a more populated area then, as it gave them an excuse to ride in silence. Caitlin kept her head down as she had a day earlier, doing what she could to ignore the rush of blood in her ears as her heart began to race out of control.

  Her fingers closed tight around the reins, hands aching from the strain before very long.

  “You’d do well to relax,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

  “Thank you for the advice,” she whispered in return, and when she did, she cursed herself for being just as ill-mannered as he was. There was no call for her to reply as she had, but she’d spoken before thinking.

  The day grew hotter all the time, and Caitlin soon reached behind her for the flask she’d filled at Sorcha’s. The water had warmed in the sun but was still fairly refreshing. When she’d had her fill, she held the flask out to Rodric.

  “Thank you,” he replied with a faint grin.

  As though it both surprised and amused him that she would offer. As though she were the one who had run off to fight and not come back for seven years.

  Perhaps if he’d given a damn about her marrying his brother, he would’ve come back prior to the wedding and at least spoken on her behalf. He might have claimed her for his own. She would’ve gone anywhere with him, would’ve done anything. Would even have run away to marry him if he’d asked.

  But he hadn’t. He’d left her to fend for herself and then dared to insult her when she’d merely done her best.

  The deep unjustness of it made the sweat trickling down her back more difficult to bear than ever.

  “Here we are,” Rodric murmured.

  Clearly, he was unaware that she imagined throwing the flask at his head as he handed it back to her. He’d deserted her. He hadn’t even sent word that he was alive. At least half of the tears she’d shed had been on his behalf, out of fear that he’d died or been terribly injured. Knowing there was no chance of their ever being together once the wedding to his brother took place.

  Knowing he didn’t care.

  “What took ye so long?” Out of the inn came bounding a tall, burly man with dark hair and a beard to match. His eyes were bright, sparkling, full of life and laughter.

  He stopped short when he saw Rodric wasn’t alone.

  “Shh,” Rodric signaled with a finger to his lips.

  “Ahh.” The dark-haired man nodded. “I should’ve guessed, then.”

  Caitlin had no time to wonder what he believed he should’ve guessed, since they were soon joined by two other men. One shared a strong resemblance with the dark hair, though his face was clean-shaven and his frame a bit leaner. The other was clearly the youngest of all, his hair dark brown and his sharp, dark eyes immediately drawn to Caitlin in a way she recognized as more than just idle curiosity.

  “And who’s this, then?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking up.

  “Quinn, fetch the horses,” Rodric ordered in a tight voice.

  Tight because Quinn called attention to her, or tight because of the nature of the attention he showed?

  Rodric scowled. “We must be on the road immediately, or as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, I’ve already spent too much time idling,” the largest of the three agreed, the one with the dark beard. “The name’s Brice, by the way. I can guess what yours is, so do not bother speaking. This is my brother, Fergus.”

  Caitlin nodded in greeting. None of them seemed put-out by her presence, which she hadn’t realized until that moment had been something which worried her. The fewer people she inconvenienced, the better.

  “You’ve settled up inside, then?” Rodric asked as his friends mounted their horses.

  “Aye, we’ve only been waiting for you.” Fergus flashed a knowing smile. “It’s good to know you had a worthwhile reason for keeping us waiting.”

  Caitlin bit her lip, her eyes downcast as Rodric fumed over this. She enjoyed these friends of his.

  Amazing, she thought to herself as they rode together. The five of them attracted no attention, just as she’d attracted no attention while riding on her own. Certainly, people saw them. They were impossible to miss. But they were not considered, not thought about. Simply a group of men riding from one place to another. Free to do as they chose, without the concern or curiosity of others holding them back.

  She had been so frightened, too, barely sleeping for more than a few moments at a time the night before. Certain they’d be stopped on the road the moment someone recognized her. Every time she’d begun to fall asleep, she’d imagined being stopped and dragged back to Alan.

  Perhaps she truly was as safe as Sorcha had believed.

  15

  Rodric grimaced. They were going to make his life miserable.

  Brice was hardly bothering to keep the knowing smile off his face as they rode. Rodric could see him from the corner of his eye. He fairly stewed, knowing what must be going through his friend’s head.

  What was he supposed to do? Leave her behind? Allow her to fend for herself? Once he was able to explain, they would understand—and if they knew what was good for them, they’d leave it alone.

  “How did the three of you manage to pass the time?” he asked, looking around. It was a clear attempt at changing the unspoken subject, but it worked.

  Quinn cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade than the heat already reddened them. “Pleasantly,” he replied, eyes cutting in Caitlin’s direction.

  “Ah. I see. I hope you didn’t impoverish yourself,” he jeered. “Or, if you did, that the money was well-spent.”

  Caitlin looked around, clearly confused, and Rodric chuckled at his friends’ discomfort. No matter who they were or what they were capable of, they were gentlemen when it came to conducting themselves in front of ladies. While their new companion might not have strictly been a lady by birth, she was hardly the sort the three of them had spent their evening with.

  The close-built cottages and other buildings of the village began to spread out, spaced further apart the closer they came to the surrounding woods. He could sense Caitlin’s relief—her posture changed as she started to relax.

  “Is there anywhere we could stop?” she murmured, keeping her voi
ce low out of more than self-preservation.

  From the way she blushed, Rodric understood the meaning of her question.

  “Aye. Once we’re far enough into the woods,” he promised. Not that he looked forward to being alone with his friends, with her out of earshot. He could just imagine the time they’d have at his expense.

  Once they reached the cover of thick-leafed birch and ash trees, the day cooled considerably. The sweat which had only just rolled down his neck felt pleasant once they reached near-darkness. Even so, he would’ve paid a fair amount of silver for the privilege of a bath in a cool stream.

  The thought only brought back the memory of the night before, of her body in the moonlight. The water running down her arms and shoulders, light hair like a curtain falling over her back. That slim waist, waiting for his hands to grasp it…

  “Here,” Brice decided, and good thing. If he’d been allowed the chance to pursue his dark fantasies, there might have been a rather embarrassing situation ahead of him.

  Caitlin tossed him her reins without saying a word, sliding from the mare’s back before hurrying off to a cluster of bushes some distance away.

  The moment she was gone, the three of them whirled on him.

  “She’s the McAllister lass then, isn’t she?” Brice asked. “I knew this wouldn’t be as easily done as you promised.”

  Rodric held up both hands, still holding two sets of reins. “We’re escorting her to her cousin’s, and the entire ride from the lass’s home to the village took little more than half the day.”

  “What about meeting with your brother, as Jake requested?” Quinn asked, keeping one eye at all times on the bushes in case she reappeared.

  “I already have, and, as luck would have it, she is the reason for the feud.”

  “She is?” Brice chuckled. “Allow me to guess. She’s on the run from him.”

  “You’re far better at guessing than I am,” Rodric admitted. “He wants revenge, needless to say. She merely wants to get away from him. The thought of being wed to my brother is… well, worth running away from, even if it means never being at ease.”

  “She’s the reason for the feud, and yet you’re helping her hide? Is this what you’re telling us?” Fergus looked around as though to confirm what he suspected. “Even though this only makes the situation worse for the Duncans?”

  When spoken in those words, Rodric saw the full measure of how foolhardy the entire endeavor was. He was, in essence, going directly against what Jake had requested of him.

  “What would you have me do? Bind and gag the lass? Drag her to my brother’s bed?”

  “These are the choices which must be made sometimes, when something larger is at stake,” Brice reasoned. “We do not always have to enjoy making these choices. We might even hate it. But they must be made, nonetheless.”

  “I served alongside you,” Rodric reminded him. “I know about difficult choices and how the greater good must be kept in mind.”

  “And yet, here we are.” The two of them held each other’s gaze for a long, breathless beat, before Brice averted his eyes.

  “How can I make you all see?” he asked, looking around. “I cannot allow the lass to be sold into marriage to my brother. We’ve known each other since we were children, and it would be too cruel. Besides, I know my brother. I know it would not be as easy as allowing the feud to fade away upon the lass’s return. He’s too stubborn for that. If anything, he would continue this insanity just to spite me.”

  “You asked him to end it, then.”

  “Of course, I did,” he hissed in response to Quinn’s statement. “I told him why I’d come and asked that not turn personal troubles into something much larger. If anything, this was more reason than before for him to stay the course. I should have known he would refuse just to spite me.”

  “What do you think Jake will say to this?”

  “I think he’ll have no choice but to accept it. When I tell him how vicious Alan was when speaking of the lass, how he…” Rodric closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “When I tell him how my brother threatened to make me witness to the bedding, he might understand the nature of the marriage.”

  Brice growled under his breath but hadn’t the chance to respond before Caitlin returned. The looks on the faces of the others told him they understood, at least somewhat—and when Jake heard, and Phillip too, they would also understand.

  She came to a stop before reaching the gray mare, freezing in place except for the eyes which moved over the four of them. “You’ve been talking about me,” she surmised.

  “Aye,” Rodric replied.

  Fergus shot him a look of surprise, Rodric merely shrugged. There was no sense in lying to the lass. She already knew they’d been discussing her. Why wouldn’t they?

  “Have you reached a conclusion? Am I to be abandoned? Taken back to my husband?” She lifted her chin in a defiant stance, as though daring them to lay a finger on her. Rodric’s heart swelled with pride. Though she wasn’t his and had never truly been, she was still the only lass he’d ever loved or come anywhere close to loving.

  And at this moment, he loved her still.

  Brice looked down at himself as though making an examination. “I realize, lass, that we hardly look the type to be kind or thoughtful. But we aren’t entirely cruel. And we’ve little time for men who treat women cruelly.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Very happy, indeed.”

  “I suppose we ought to keep going,” Fergus announced. “If we’ve so much riding ahead of us.”

  Rodric’s spirits sank at this. Yes, they had to get her back to where she’d be safe, even if it meant having to part ways with her once they reached Fiona’s home.

  He rode beside her as they traveled the woods, with Brice and Quinn ensuring the path ahead of them was clear and Fergus keeping watch behind them.

  “Is it pleasant there, on Fiona’s farm?” he asked, feeling rather at a loss.

  “It is. Fiona is a wonderful cousin. It’s a very pleasant place. I don’t believe Kent is glad to have me there any longer, however. If he ever was, to begin with.”

  “No?”

  “Would you be? We aren’t related through blood. Fiona and I were never close, which was what made her a safe choice. Alan didn’t know about her. Kent is more concerned by the day, every day I spend there. He feels threatened, naturally. What happens if I’m discovered? They’re peaceful people. They mind their own lives. They care little for clan matters.”

  “I understand. I’ve felt the same for most of my life.”

  “Evidently, since you did not return on your father’s passing.”

  He gritted his teeth, determined not to argue with her in front of the others. It wouldn’t do for them to witness how easy it was for her get his blood up. “I expect you wouldn’t know this, having never been part of an army, but it isn’t possible for soldiers to simply pack up and return home until they’ve been dismissed from service.”

  “I know it’s possible for a soldier to return home when there are important matters to attend to. Such as a parent who’s died.”

  “You’re an expert, then.”

  “I know what I know.”

  “It isn’t that simple,” he explained. “I didn’t receive word of my father’s passing until at least a fortnight after he had already died. It would have taken days to reach the clan’s territory. And since you seem to know so much, you’ll surely remember that the weather at that time of year was rough. There was no way to leave my unit. They wouldn’t have allowed me to leave under such conditions.”

  She seemed to take this in, riding in silence for several minutes while her gaze moved this way and that, taking in a pair of rabbits which fled from the approaching hooves and a squirrel which leaped from the branch of one tree to another almost directly overhead.

  “I suppose there was little you could do, then,” she eventually decided with a sigh. “I must admit
, it’s nearly a relief to know.”

  “To know what?”

  “That you didn’t mean to simply never return. That you might have perhaps cared enough to be home, but couldn’t.”

  “That I might have perhaps?” he asked. “Did you ever know me at all? Did you not believe I’d want more than anything to be home with my father? To at least pay my respects at his burial?”

  “Frankly, I wasn’t certain for a long time of whether I knew you or not,” she admitted. “I don’t mean to start an argument. Truly, I don’t. You grew up, became a man. Men change when they’ve grown up. You had been to war, you’d seen so many things. Who was to say who you had become?”

  It was his turn to go silent for a while, allowing the songs of the birds and the babbling of a narrow brook which ran alongside the woods fill the silence.

  “I never would’ve changed that much,” he announced.

  “I didn’t want to believe you had, of course. It’s a relief to know for certain, now, that it was not a lack of feeling which led to you not returning.”

  He snorted softly, remembering his great distress when he received word of his father’s death. “To the contrary,” he murmured.

  “Your father…” She trailed off before shifting in the saddle as though something pained her. “Your father cared a great deal for you. A very great deal.”

  “You don’t need to soothe me, lass. I’m not a child.”

  “I wasn’t trying to soothe you. I was merely attempting to remind you that he did, since he cannot tell you himself and likely never did, as that wasn’t his way.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I saw it. It was very clear to me. The night of the storm.”

  A lump formed in his throat, one which he swallowed back in order to speak. “I thought I was the only one who remembered that night.”

  “I thought I would die along with you, if you died.” She chuckled. “I had a talent for the dramatic back then.”

  “I recall that, as well. I was often at the receiving end of that flair of yours.”

  “I had no siblings at home to torment. You bore the brunt of it. That night, during the storm, I saw how your father panicked when you hadn’t returned.”