An Outlaw's Word (Highland Heartbeats Book 9)

by Aileen Adams

  Quinn had held her to him. He’d covered her mouth with his hand, had threatened her. He’d been cruel, in his way. But nothing he’d done had come close to what that man had done. He hadn’t run his hand over her body, for one. She could still feel that knowing, painful touch.

  While she hadn’t felt safe with Quinn, she hadn’t felt as though he was going to kill her. After having his way with her. He had been quick to assure her he wouldn’t harm her that way.

  There was something different about him.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He looked up from the fire, where he had just placed a pair of rabbits he’d caught earlier in the day. “Roasting rabbit? Believe me, lass, I would rather it were almost anything else. I am sick of the sight and smell of it. But ‘tis better than starving.”

  She nodded slowly. “I’m sure it is, but that isn’t what I meant. Why are you doing any of this? Taking me as you are? What is the reason for it?”

  He stirred the kindling, making the flames dance. “The ransom. I’ve said it many times.”

  “What is the ransom for?” she sighed. “There must be a good reason to go as far as you have. It is quite dangerous, after all, holding a woman captive as you are.”

  “I have no fear of ye,” he snorted.

  Somehow, she already knew him well enough to know he was taking pains to avoid being honest with her.

  “I’m merely curious,” she whispered. “I know you do not wish to tell the truth, but you ought to know that I can see this is not what comes naturally to you. You are not the same breed of man who tried to take me from you last night.”

  He stared into the fire. “Who is to say I’m not?”

  “I know you aren’t. I can feel it.”

  “There’s much ye don’t know. Feeling something doesn’t make it so.”

  She leaned against a towering pine tree and sighed, closing her eyes. There was no speaking to him; she ought to have known better than to try. Why did it matter? Why did it even matter the sort of person he was? He hadn’t hurt her thus far and had already told her he had no wish to do so.

  That would have to be enough.

  13

  Why did she insist on asking questions?

  Why was she so intent on knowing him?

  What was worse was wanting to tell her. Wanting to share with her why he held her captive, what in his life was important enough that he would go to such lengths.

  He picked over the bones left from his rabbit, his eyes downcast. The night was a clear one, the moon just shy of being full. It turned the new, green grass to silver, cast tree-shaped shadows on the ground. It also helped him keep a clear lookout, they hadn’t come across any threats since the night before, but it would not do to lower one’s guard.

  “My friends and I traveled together quite a lot,” he said, glancing her way before returning to what little was left of his meal. “I would not be surprised to find we’ve crossed the entire Highlands, ten or maybe twenty times over the years. We’ve gone further than that, too. The southern coast, into England.”

  “You strike me as someone who has spent a great deal of his life out of doors,” she murmured.

  “What makes you say that?” He looked at her again, curious now.

  She shrugged her shoulders, eyes closed, head tipped back until it touched the trunk of the tree she rested against. “You do not tire easily. You can ride all day and have the strength to hunt for our supper. Your skin is weathered.”

  “Weathered?”

  She chuckled. “You’ve spent time in the sun. Quite a lot. You have…” She motioned to the outer corners of her eyes. “Lines here. You squint your eyes because of the sun.”

  “You pay close attention.”

  “Yes. I do. Which is what made me quite certain that you’ve never done anything like this before.” She opened her eyes. “You, these friends of yours. You do not make a habit of holding women for ransom, do you?”

  There was no sense in lying, as the lass knew far more than she ought to already. Would that she could stop thinking she was so smart. “We do not. Though what we do to make our living is hardly better, at least, some would feel that way. Most, perhaps.”

  “What is it?”

  “We find people who need our help, or they find us. They need protection on a journey or know someone who does. Or there is something important they need, something someone has taken from them, something too far away for them to reach it. Or something they feel they aren’t strong enough to take on their own.”

  “They call on you to do it for them.”

  “That is correct.”

  “What if the person you try to take something from does not wish to do as you ask?”

  He met her gaze. “I told you. It was not only in the war that I had no choice but to kill. But only if the person I had dealings with would not listen to reason, or if they became violent or threatened me or my friends…”

  “You do not need to say more.”

  He snickered at this abrupt turn. “You seemed so interested. Now ye no longer have the desire to know about my life.”

  Her full mouth twisted into a scowl. “You needn’t sound so cross. I merely tried to know you, and you hold it against me.”

  “You were making light of me.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  He snorted and threw the rest of the bones into the fire. “Ye did. Pointing out again and again how ill-suited I am to this work.”

  “I merely wished to know.”

  “Now ye do. Are ye satisfied?”

  She scowled, crossing her arms. “I made the mistake of trying to be pleasant. To give you credit for being a decent man. Perhaps it was all in an effort to comfort myself, so that I might not be afraid.”

  “You ought to be afraid,” he snarled, standing and wiping his hands on his tunic. “I was wrong to leave ye unbound today, I gave ye ideas I shouldn’t have. I will not make the same mistake on the morrow.”

  “You cannot expect me to ride with my hands bound together,” she protested, standing as well. “You know as well as I do how much more ground we covered today while we were on a good, established road. Or is my company so pleasurable that you wish to take your time?”

  He laughed. “Lass, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “I’m glad to see we are in agreement, then. I will not allow you to bind my hands tomorrow.”

  She turned away, but his rough hand on her arm spun her until she faced him again. He pulled her to him with little effort, stopping short of sending her body crashing into his.

  “Lass, if I have a mind to do something to ye, rest assured I’ll have my way,” he warned in a tight whisper.

  Her breath came in short gasps, her chest rising and falling against his own. A strange mixture of anger and arousal left him a bit breathless, too.

  “Let go of me,” she muttered, jerking her body away, which only served to make him tighten his grip all the more.

  “Tire yourself if ye wish,” he whispered, doing what he could to sound as menacing as possible while wanting nothing more than cover her mouth with his own. How was it possible to want her while wanting to spank her as if she were an unruly child needing a reminder of her situation? “It will make little difference, as you’ve already discovered. I have the strength and stamina to control you.”

  “You said you would not hurt me,” she hissed, glaring up at him.

  “I have no intention of hurting ye. This is only to prove a point.” He released her, all but pushing her away when her nearness proved too tempting.

  She rubbed her arm, shaking her head. “You did hurt me.”

  “I didna intend to. But if ye wish to avoid that in the future, do not challenge me. I will win, for imagine what I could do if I truly intended to make a mark on ye.”

  She made a great show of shaking out her blanket with a sharp snap, then grumbling her way through positioning herself upon it.


  “Merely wanted to be friendly,” she muttered under her breath.

  He should not have laid hands on her. It was a brutish thing to do, and he was above such things.

  Then again, he’d always considered himself to be above theft. Yet, there he was.

  He sat with his back to a fallen log, legs stretched out before him. He would have liked nothing more than to rest his head and allow sleep to overtake him, but only women had the luxury of behaving thus. Even when he slept, he would need to be on his guard against animals and other humans.

  She made no pretense of going straight to sleep, lying on her back with one arm bent behind her head. Her bright, clear eyes stared up at the starry sky.

  She was not admiring them. She was glaring at them. The firm set of her jaw, the way the muscles jumped beneath her fine, smooth skin told him as much.

  Would it make a difference, really, if he were honest with her? What would it harm? It might at least bridge the gap which seemed to be growing between them, and her sympathy might go a long way toward bringing her to heel.

  She made a strong point; if he tied her up, they could not travel the main road and would need to go out of their way instead, which would waste valuable time.

  He needed to know she would behave herself, and he could not go on doing so through physical force.

  “Do ye have any brothers or sisters?” he asked in a voice far softer than the one he’d used earlier. The time for behaving brutishly had passed.

  She was quiet for a long time, but the muscles in her cheek jumped as ever. “No,” she finally muttered. “I might have, but they died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” he replied. “I have a brother. Half-brother. We share a father. He is the elder son. Our father died years ago, and he came into possession of the family farm, and a small bit of land included.”

  She was unmoving.

  When she made no reply—what reply was there to make?—he continued. “Our father was a difficult man. He died indebted to merchants, even the local tavernkeeper. Anyone who might lend him a shilling or serve him a mug of ale was his closest friend. I suppose I understood this to a point, even as a young man. I did not know how deeply indebted he was, however.”

  He looked at her and found her to be looking back at him. Her face was blank, giving him no hint as to her thoughts. “His creditors agreed to dismiss the debt when he died after falling off his horse; drunk.”

  “My goodness,” she whispered, then slammed her lips shut as though she hadn’t meant to speak.

  “But there is a man, a wealthy one, who paid off the debts one at a time and now wants the full amount from my brother, plus debt he, too, incurred over the years of managing the farm. I must admit, I haven’t been home in many years. Not since I left to join the army and fight for the king. I neglected to keep in touch with him. I had no idea things had turned the way they did.”

  He shifted his gaze to the dwindling fire, unable to look at her any longer. Instead, he focused his attention on a single log which looked ready to split, speaking of such personal matters was easier this way, when he did not have to watch the reaction of the person to whom he spoke.

  “I found out over a month ago that my brother is in debtors’ prison.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “He has a wife and twin daughters,” Quinn murmured. “I have never met them. I did go to the prison, however. To see him, to find how he was managing there. It is a terrible place, lass. I hope ye never have to see it for yourself. A single room, holding so many. Filthy. Coughing and groaning, illness. I cannot leave him there.”

  “That is why you are doing this,” she whispered. “To pay his debt.”

  “Yes. That is why.” Somehow, it felt good to confess. “I need this to free him. You were correct about me. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  He still stared at the crackling log but heard her moving.

  She was sitting up when she said, “You ought to have told me from the start.”

  “Why? What possible difference would it have made?”

  “We might have been much closer to a harbor by now, for one. I have no desire to keep you from helping your brother.”

  He could hardly believe this, but when he took a chance and looked at her, he saw sincerity shining in her eyes. “Do ye mean that?”

  She nodded. “I do. It’s a terrible thing you’ve undertaken, and you ought to be commended for it. Even if the means you chose are not in and of themselves commendable.”

  She lost him when she spoke that way, using her educated words, even so, he thought he understood the message.

  “I will offer no resistance,” she pledged. “So long as you treat me well and no longer bind my hands. I cannot allow that. Have you ever sat in the saddle without the use of your hands?”

  “I have not.”

  “I would not recommend it,” she scowled. “I will give you no reason to bind me. You have my word.”

  Could he trust her? She looked and sounded sincere. She had been fairly trustworthy up to that point, as well. No attempts at escape, nothing like what Alana had tried to do at every turn. Getting herself stuck up a tree while a wild boar waited to make her its next meal.

  When compared to that, Ysmaine was rather easy to manage.

  “All right,” he agreed. “We will trust each other. I will treat ye fairly, and I can trust ye to behave yourself when I do.”

  Her smile was wide, relieved. “Agreed.”

  He did not fall asleep for a long time, after the fire had all but gone out, but when he did, it was with a smile on his face.

  And that had not happened for quite a while.

  14

  After that night, Ysmaine regarded Quinn through new eyes.

  He was rather noble, on the whole. A bit rough, as Highlanders tended to be, this was nothing new to her, of course. She’d grown up among the men of Clan Fraser and had never been the worse for it.

  But she’d never known a Highlander who was truly noble. Who did more than simply fight beside and protect another man because the clan demanded it, or out of some unspoken sense of pride or duty.

  He did not need to take such risks in order to pay off his brother’s debt.

  Life spent on the road was rough, terribly so at times. The pain and chafing of hours upon hours on horseback. The stench of the horses, too, though that tended to fade with familiarity, as all unpleasant odors did. The fatigue. The blisters left on her palms from the reins. Pests flying all about her head during the height of the day’s warmth.

  Sleeping on the ground. She did so miss her bed. While extreme fatigue meant she slept soundly, she always woke with a stiff back and a crick in her neck.

  She even began to grow thinner after several days spent riding alongside Quinn. Not only did they rarely stop to eat, but their food was never more than whatever he managed to catch in the woods. What she would have given for a bowl of hot stew, a piece of fresh bread to catch the juices when the meat and vegetables were gone.

  She would not have lived this sort of life if given the choice. He did it willingly.

  “You told me you did this before, riding day to day, sleeping in the woods, even when the weather made things difficult.” She counted her blessings that they’d had nothing but dry weather thus far, though clouds had begun filling the sky soon after they’d left camp and were growing darker all the time.

  If only the rain held off until a reasonable time for them to make camp once again, ideally beneath a thick covering of branches that they might avoid getting wet.

  He nodded with a bit of a grimace. “Aye, ‘tis true.”

  She looked around herself, trying to understand what would compel a person to do so. Surely, it was lovely countryside. There was always something new to see, then again, one could only admire so many trees and mountains and fields of wildflowers without their charm wearing thin.

  “I would not choose it for myself,” she decided.

  His laugh rang out, causin
g the nearby birds to take wing. “There are times when a man has little choice, lass. This type of life is the only life I’ve ever had a talent for. Can ye imagine me in a blacksmith’s shop? Or herding sheep or livestock? In the fields during harvest time? And all in the service of my laird?”

  He spat on the ground to show his distaste.

  “Your father did not work in service of the laird, did he? Everything he needed would have been provided to him.”

  “Aye, ye have a keen mind, indeed,” he admitted, and she nearly glowed in pleasure at the compliment. It was one of the nicest things he’d said to her yet. “We never lived that way, and I have no intention of doing so. But I could never see living as he did, either. Always at the mercy of someone else’s needs. Never his own. I’m a free man, truly.”

  She nodded as she gave this thought. “But you are still at the mercy of the weather, are you not? Or do you take to the road in the middle of winter?”

  “Of course not. We live indoors in winter.”

  “And I can only imagine that it would be very uncomfortable to ride through days of rain at a time.”

  “It is.”

  “And you must wait for tasks worth your while to become available to you, must you not? Someone must tell you of the people who need your help.”

  “Aye.” He sounded a bit perturbed. As though he understood the reason behind her questions.

  “You are no more free than anyone else, then,” she concluded in as pleasant a tone as possible.

  “If I tie your hands together, I’ll be freer than ye, lass.”

  “You said you wouldn’t.” Even so, she placed a bit more space between them as they continued down the road.

  “Ye insist on finding out just how far I’m willing to go,” he replied in an ominous voice. “My reasons for doing as I do are my own. No one else’s. If they do not meet your approval, that is not my concern.”

  “I only wished to understand.”

  “Why?”

  When she spurred the horse to trot faster, hoping to get away from him, he kept pace.