“Ye canna.” She spoke with the confidence of a person secure in their vocation. “Has there been fever yet?”
“Nay.”
“Good.” The woman hopped down from the stool—truly hopped, as a rabbit would, and William was surprised to find how much taller she’d appeared while seated. As she scurried about the shop, he observed her to be no larger than a child.
And she knew where everything could be located without hardly looking. She ran a gnarled finger over a row of brown bottles before picking one out. It was more of a jar, with a piece of canvas covering the top. A piece of yarn held it in place.
“How much?”
“How much is it worth to ye?”
He snarled. “I dinna have much time.”
“It’s worth quite a bit, then,” she chuckled.
“Give me a price and I’ll pay it.” Every moment he spent haggling with the old woman was one more moment in which the lass was alone. If he returned to where he’d left her and found her missing…
He knew where he would begin when it came time to taste vengeance.
He left the shop soon after, his sporran somewhat lighter but relief making the entire endeavor seem worthwhile. So long as the salve worked, along with the fresh bandages which he’d purchased as an afterthought, it would matter little how the old woman had enjoyed herself at his expense.
He did not take his time in leaving, no longer caring if anyone thought him odd for making haste as he did. In fact, he was willing to believe none of them cared either way about his concerns. They had concerns of their own.
By the time he reached the woods, his heart racing and his eyes searching the shadows, the mist had ended, and the sky above had begun to lighten. He knew she’d be listening hard for him, but that if she were hiding, she would not be able to see. “Tara?” he whispered, for once relieved he did not know her true name.
If any ears but hers were listening, he would not reveal who she was.
If only she would answer.
“Tara?” he whispered, louder this time. “I’ve returned. Where are ye, lass?”
For one heart-clenching moment, he knew she was gone. Someone had come for her while he argued with an old woman over the price of salve. She had trusted him, she’d needed him, and he had failed.
He would never be free of her now, not ever. His guilt would crush him until the day he died, and with good reason. He deserved nothing better.
Then, “William?” Out from behind a cluster of spruce trees came the horse, and its rider.
He had never known such sweet relief. “Och, thank God. Ye met no one, then?”
“No one. I heard you coming…”
“And ye hid yourself. Clever lass.” How he longed to pull her from the saddle and enfold her in his arms, to stroke her hair and murmur words of relief in her ear. The impulse surprised him with both its suddenness and strength.
Instead, he helped her down and was careful to avoid letting her touch the ground with her unbound feet. “I bought a salve and bandages. The healer assured me of the salve’s… what did she call it? Potency. It’s very potent, she said.”
He glanced at her face and found her not looking at him, but over his shoulder instead. He knew not what she looked at, only that her expression was a mixture of fear, loathing and a sort of resigned certainty.
Her eyes widened, and in one smooth movement she withdrew the flintlock from the waist of her trews and aimed it in the direction she stared.
“What are ye doing?” he asked—just before a twig snapped behind him.
“I’m about to shoot the man who followed you from town,” she announced in a cool voice, the pistol leveled and steady.
10
Shana stared at the short man standing not ten feet from where she sat, the pistol trained on his chest.
Whether she would be able to make the shot was anyone’s guess, for she had never fired a pistol in her life, but she was willing to try so long as it meant injuring him—or frightening him away.
He held up his hands, palms out. “No need for that, lassie, for if your man there would merely turn about, he would see he knows me well.”
William stared at Shana, one hand straying toward the dirk at his waist. “And who would ye be, then?” he asked in a steady voice with a steely edge.
“None other than Drew MacIntosh himself, as a matter of fact, and I knew I recognized ye back in town—though I would’ve kept to myself had I known a bonny lass would aim a pistol at my chest.”
William’s body sagged for a moment before a smile spread from ear to ear. He turned, let out a sharp laugh. “If it isn’t the very man himself. Och, but it’s good to see ye.”
“You do know him, then?” Shana was unconvinced of the man’s trustworthiness.
William was gentle as he pressed a hand to the flintlock, lowering it until it pointed to the ground. “Aye, he’s an old friend. A good man.” When she looked to him, searching his face for the truth, he nodded. “Trust me.”
She snorted. “You aren’t the problem. I trust you.”
“She’s a wise one,” Drew MacIntosh chuckled. “Many’s the lass who wished she had not trusted me, though I canna be blamed for having an eye for women.”
William clasped arms with this man. “You’re looking well, though I canna imagine how, knowing ye as I do. It’s been the better part of half a year since the wedding, has it not? I would’ve expected ye to have lost a few teeth by now, or at least to have a blackened eye after leaving a busy harbor town.”
“Aye, well, I’ve been far too busy helping my cousin with his land to get myself into much trouble.” He glanced toward Shana, who still eyed him warily. “I’ve a bit of a reputation for startin’ trouble in taverns. Fighting and the like. But no time for that at the present.”
“Are we that near the land?” William asked.
“What land?” Shana interrupted. This was the first she’d heard of any such place.
“Aye, no more than two hours from Inverness, which of course ye just left,” he added, looking to William. “I realize ye came in from the north when ye came for the wedding, so ye might not have known how near we are to the town. I came in to fetch supplies.”
“Did anyone else recognize me? Were ye alone?”
“I was alone.” Drew frowned. “What is this? What has ye so nervous?”
Shana wished she could clamp her hand over William’s mouth, but there was no time. When he looked down at her, she shook her head to give her opinion of what ought to happen next. He might know this Drew, but she did not, and she did not trust men.
Except for William, and even that was merely a recent turn of events.
“He is a friend. The MacIntosh family are good people, good friends.” William stared at her. “We can trust them.”
She shrugged. He was determined to lead them into this, wherever it led. The sad fact was, her feet plagued her too badly and she was too relieved he’d returned to care very much by then.
And he had already done so much to protect her. He wouldn’t lead them both astray now.
He pulled Drew aside and explained in low tones who she was and what they were doing together. It wasn’t William she watched. It was Drew. How would he react?
She’d always been skilled at reading the reactions of those around her and understanding them better because of it. This skill had helped her when her family had come to villages and towns, when they’d set up to perform for the men, women, and children who passed.
Being able to understand people, if they truly meant the smiles they put on for show. If they intended to harm her or her kin. This sense had saved them from trouble more than once, she was certain.
She had never needed it more than she did now.
Drew listened with deep intensity. That was the first thing she noticed. He did not just hear. He listened, his body tensing the further William ventured into their story. His lip lifted in a snarl when Jacob Stuart was mentioned, and he spat upon the ground
at the description of Shana’s condition when William found her.
“Is this true? He held ye in a cell?” What had once been a jovial voice, full of laughter and fun, was now tight and menacing. It was little wonder this Drew MacIntosh was a troublemaker. He looked prepared to murder a man with his bare hands.
“That is true,” she affirmed with a nod.
He held her gaze. “He deserves to die.”
She liked him.
“Aye, ‘tis all well and good,” William agreed, “but for now, I have to get her home, to Richard. The guard will protect us once we arrive. ‘Tis only a matter of getting her there before either one of us breaks our necks. And her, with her feet so badly wounded. That was why I took the chance of going to town, that I might find salve for the wounds and something to treat a fever should it come to that.”
“You’ll need somewhere she can rest, and something hot and hearty to get your strength back. Come,” Drew invited. “I know Rufus would be glad to have ye for as long as ye need.”
“I dinna know if that is the best course of action,” William grimaced with a look toward Shana. “I would not wish to put them in any danger. Any of ye, truly. It is far too much to ask.”
“It isn’t at all,” Drew argued. “There is no question to it. Ye need to come with me. Ye need to sleep indoors, before a fire, outside of the rain threatening to fall. She needs to be tended to. Ye both do. I mean no offense, my old friend, but ye look like… my old, old friend.”
Much to her surprise, Shana burst out laughing. It came on like a burst of weather, a surprise storm, and once she started it was impossible to stop. The floodgates opened and out it came.
The two men looked at her with almost identical expressions of surprise, which only made her laugh harder. Helplessly.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks which reappeared the moment she swept them away. It had been so long since she’d laughed. “He does look rather dreadful.”
Drew joined her, but William hardly looked amused. “If only ye knew why. If only ye knew.”
Drew clapped him on the back. “Well, then. My wagon is just inside the tree line—I left it there to finish following ye on foot, and I can put her in back.”
“You can what?” she asked, all hints of laughter now gone.
Drew turned to her. “There is ample room back there, and I’ve traded for furs today among other things. Ye might hide beneath them and be warm at the same time.”
She looked to William for understanding. For guidance. Should she do this?
The unsettling fact was, she disliked the notion of traveling without him at her back. While he would most likely be no more than a few minutes behind her, this was not the same as sharing a horse. He would not be touching her. She wouldn’t be able to feel his heart beating whenever his chest touched her back.
She didn’t know until just that moment how reassuring that brief contact was.
His frown told her he thought along the same lines. “I’ve gone to a terrible lot of trouble to keep her safe,” he told Drew, hands on his slim hips. “I would hate to see ye be the cause of something happening to her.”
So that was it. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. He did not actually care for her—even taking a chance by purchasing salve hadn’t been for her benefit, but for him. She was little better than a possession in his eyes. A thing, just like everyone had always seen her.
“You needn’t bother worrying. I’ll ride in the wagon.” She gave Drew a tentative smile. “So long as you are willing to take a chance on keeping me there. It could be dangerous for you.”
The man merely scoffed. “Danger means little to me. Fact is, it’s been too long since I’ve tasted it.”
William came to her, bundling her up in his arms without warning. “Are ye certain ye wish to do this?” he murmured while Drew tended to the wagon.
She turned her face away, unwilling to look into his troubled eyes. “You said we could trust him.”
“Aye, and ye seemed as though ye disagreed.”
“Which is it, then? Is he trustworthy or no?”
“Aye, he is.”
“So? I see no problem.”
“Why are ye angry with me now?”
She offered no response, as they had reached the wagon and Drew was waiting with furs pulled aside for her to nestle beneath. “Now, never ye fear. There is no reason for anyone to stop my wagon. I’ve become what ye might call a respectable citizen, and everyone knows and likes me.”
“That canna possibly be true,” William snorted.
“I’ll have no more of that out of ye,” Drew grinned. “Come on, now.”
Shana crawled into the wagon, curling herself up atop a fur before Drew lowered several on top of her. Except for her head, she was completely covered.
“See? No one would even know a wee thing such as yourself was there.”
She nodded, glancing at William for confirmation. His face was a mask of doubt and grave concern. His jaw worked as he nodded, fighting against things he did not wish to say.
Worrying over his possession, more than likely. Just the notion that he saw her that way made her face flush with unvoiced fury. He was fortunate they were riding apart from each other, for his ears would be ringing otherwise.
“All right, then,” Drew announced. “Time to cover ye completely. Take care ye remain as still as ye can, now. I’ll look over my shoulder from time to time to make certain you’re covered.”
“Thank you,” she murmured just before he draped another fur over her head. She was in the dark again, as she had been in the cell, though at least she was comfortable now. Very comfortable, in fact. Warm and nestled snugly.
Were it not for the out of control pounding of her heart, she might have been quite content.
The men muttered something to each other which she could not make out before the wagon’s slight swaying told her Drew had climbed up behind the team. “Steady now,” he murmured. “Off we go.”
This was the worst time of all. This was breathing as slowly and gently as possible to keep herself calm. Staying as still as she could so as to avoid moving the furs.
What if someone stopped him? Even a friend, someone passing on the road. Much could happen in two hours. And William would, of course, ride well behind them, careful to keep anyone from thinking they had anything to do with each other.
Please, help me. Keep us safe. She repeated this, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer. As always, she imagined her mother’s face, loving eyes, a gentle smile. She imagined her mother holding her, imagined the rocking motion of the wagon was really her mother’s loving embrace, rocking her the way she’d rock a bairn.
And she behaved as a bairn would, by falling asleep.
* * *
When male voices rang in her ears, she woke with a gasp, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized she might have given herself away.
“Dinna fear, lass,” Drew called back. “We’ve arrived. Stay where ye are, however, until we’re in the stables.”
“Thank you, thank you,” she whispered behind her hand. She’d never meant it so much.
Soon enough, Drew lifted the furs from her and she sat up. They were, indeed, among horses in a stone building with a thatched roof. “Welcome to the home of Rufus MacIntosh,” Drew grinned, then nodded to a man standing beside the wagon.
He looked a good deal like Drew, though he was taller, broader. “I would be Rufus,” he explained. “My cousin enjoys speaking for me. ‘Tis happy I am to have ye here.”
“Happy?” she whispered, arching a disbelieving brow. “You know who I am, I take it?”
“I do. My cousin already shared the tale. And I would never refuse William Blackheath, or anyone under his protection.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Down the road. He should be along soon. He kept quite a distance all the way.” Drew held out his arms. “Come. I’ll help ye into the house. Willi
am has the salve he purchased in town, but ye shall need your feet washed, for certain.”
“Davina can help with that,” Rufus suggested. “My wife. If you would rather a strange man not be the one to treat your wounds.”
“You do not need to trouble yourselves.” Even so, Drew lifted her in arms surprisingly strong for a man of his small stature and carried her from the stables to a house just beyond, walking past a garden and through the rear door.
They entered the kitchen—warm, the ceiling hung with dried herbs and ropes of onion which she supposed had been grown just outside. A handful of wildflowers sat in a jug on the table, which stood near the cheerful hearth. A pot sat over the fire, and the scent coming from it made her mouth water.
A lovely place. The sort of kitchen she would want for herself if she had a home of her own. Nothing grand. Just enough.
Into the room came a young woman whose eyes widened at the sight of a stranger in her home. “Davina, this is a friend. Another friend is on his way, William Blackheath. Ye remember him, of course. He came all this way for the wedding.”
Davina gave him a distracted nod, her gaze still on Shana. “What would your name be, then?”
A flush crept up over Shana’s neck and over her cheeks. “You can call me Tara,” she whispered, suddenly uncertain whether this was the best course of action. Rufus MacIntosh and his cousin—who still held her in his arms, her feet dangling high above the floor—might have been good friends of William’s, but that friendship did not extend itself to this shrewd woman.
Then, just as suddenly as she’d appeared, her frown turned to a smile. “Welcome to our home. Ye look as though you’ve had a tough time of it.” She looked at Drew. “Put the woman down, for the love of all that’s holy.”
“Ye dinna believe me strong enough to carry such a slight thing as herself?”
“Och, ye know I would never think such a thing.” The way she rolled her eyes as she pulled out a chair told Shana this was a woman she could trust. She might even have liked her already.
Drew lowered her to the chair, and she murmured her thanks as Davina got to work examining her feet. “Fetch me a basin of clean water,” she asked no one in particular, not looking up. Rufus did as she asked.
Highland Temptations: Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 25
