Conall: The 93rd Highlanders, Book Two (16 page)

“
Why are you
crying, lass?” he asked softly. He reached up and brushed a strand
of hair off her cheek and then cupped her jaw, his thumb tracing
along her cheekbone. She shook her head silently, but he was
persistent. “Tell me,” he told her, and it was compelling, his
voice and his manner, and she wanted to obey him, wanted to do
anything he asked of her. That was Graeme’s appeal, his secret
weapon. She’d seen Conall react the same way. Conall compelled with
sweetness and a smile, a twinkle in his eyes and a kiss on his
lips. But Graeme demanded with unflinching control.

“
The colonel
came to see me yesterday,” she told him in a whisper.

Graeme didn’t move, but
she could feel him go still, feel the tension in him. “Why?” he
asked, not revealing anything outright to her, but she knew him too
well.

“
I’ve become
a bit of a distraction in camp, apparently,” she said, trying to
make light of it. “He doesn’t want to throw me out, though, which
is good. He’s worried about me if I have to leave camp and fend for
myself, and worried about certain people being unhappy with it if
he does, including his daughter.”

“
Thank God
for Miss McMillan,” Graeme said calmly, “and Brodie for bringing
her.”

Avril looked away and
picked at the plaid wrapped around her and Conall. “He wasn’t sure
what to do with me, though. I told him I’d have enough money for
passage home in a month or two.”

Behind her Conall
stiffened and the arm he had wrapped around her hip tightened.
“What did he say?” he growled, his voice rough from sleep and
something else.

“
He said he’d
leave me be for two months. But if I’m not gone by then, he’ll have
to send me out of camp.”

Conall cursed and sat up,
dragging her into his arms, holding her fiercely. “I won’t let
him.”

“
You’ll have
no choice,” she told him, turning in his hold and hugging him back.
“And truly, Conall, it’s not a terrible thing. You knew I was
saving to go home. You knew I was going to leave
eventually.”

“
Do you want
to go?” Graeme asked, his voice still calm and unemotional. He must
be very upset indeed to sound that way.

She buried her face in
Conall’s neck and breathed in the scent of him, musky and warm and
so delicious. She licked his skin and he shivered.

“
Answer me,
Avril,” Graeme demanded.

“
I don’t
know,” she answered honestly with a sigh. “I’ve been working
towards it since my husband died, haven’t I? I told you I was
going. I guess I do, but then I don’t want to leave you two, that’s
for sure. But it isn’t unexpected.”

“
Damn it,”
Conall said angrily, holding her so tightly she protested with a
murmur. He didn’t relent. “You won’t have to go if you marry me,
Avril. Hell, marry Graeme, I don’t care. Marry one of us! Why are
you being so stubborn?”

She was shaking her head
before he was finishing speaking. “No. We’ve been over this. I’m
fine for here to warm your bed, in the cold Crimean winter, at war.
But back home—and eventually we’ll be back home—I’m not good
enough, Conall. Your father is a laird. Graeme’s is a professor.
I’m no better than a servant, with very little education, no
family, no money, no connections. What would either of your
families say? And now, having been with both of you? They’ll find
out and think me worse than a whore and you know it.”

Conall let her go so fast
she fell back and Graeme had to catch her. Conall climbed from the
cot, throwing the plaid at her. He stood in the cold morning naked
as could be, and despite their argument Avril’s heart skipped. He
was gorgeous. Muscular thighs and chest and arms, a thick cover of
red hair on his chest, his cock still sleep-hard. She remembered
how he’d looked fucking Graeme the night before and she shivered,
her blood hot, her skin flushing. His blue eyes glared at her and
she was brought back to the present.

“
You’re being
stubborn,” he said again. “You don’t know my family.”

“
Yes, I do,”
she said.

He looked startled for a
moment. “That’s right, yes, you do. Some of them, anyway. Have they
ever treated you like less than a lady? Ever treated you as or
called you whore? No. That’s all in your head, Avril.”

“
No, it
isn’t,” Graeme said, and Avril felt justified even as she went cold
with disappointment. “Perhaps about your family and mine, Conall,
but the rest of world will see her that way if circumstances are
known. You know that as well as I do. What we have here is not
conventional, nor accepted. If people were to find out about you
and me, that we are intimate, we would be shunned as well. This is
not an easy decision. Surely you see that?”

“
So you would
leave me as well?” Conall asked, aghast. “Am I the only one who
thinks what we have is worth keeping? That I’m worth
keeping?”

“
Conall,
that’s not what we’re saying at all,” Avril argued, reaching for
him.

He grabbed his kilt and
began wrapping it around himself. “Yes, it is. When you boil it
down it is. Well, I think you’re both wrong. I think this is worth
keeping and worth fighting for. I think I am, and you too, Avril,
and you Graeme. And by God, I will fight for it. But I’m so bloody
mad at the two of you right now I can’t even look at you.” He threw
on his jacket and buttoned just enough buttons to keep it on. Then
he sat to pull on his hose and boots and spats.

“
Running away
is not the answer,” Graeme said calmly. “Talking about it is. Don’t
you think Avril has the right to voice her concerns? To hesitate to
change her life so drastically?”

Conall grabbed his sash
and his sword. “Change her life drastically? And how is that a bad
thing? You heard her. She’s poor, no family, no connections,
nothing. Marriage to either of us would be a fine thing for her,
and you know it. It’s better that anything she could have hoped
for.”

Avril gasped at his
hurtful and rude words. “Oh it is, is it?” she spat out. “And
you’re such a prize?” she asked. “Always running away when you
don’t get your way, like a child with no care for anything but your
own wants and needs. And what prospects have you got? Fourth
son”—she shook her head—“or fifth, or whatever you and Brodie are,
and a career in the army? I’ve already lost one husband to a
Russian bullet. Do you think I’m in a hurry to lose another? Or
both of you? Did you ever stop to consider that?”

Conall pointed at her
with the hand that held his sword in its scabbard. “You can tell
yourself those lies if it pleases you, but you know damn well
you’re just scared. Scared to try to better yourself and your
situation by marrying me or Graeme. Afraid you won’t measure up.
Well, I’m telling you that you measure up. I wouldn’t have asked
you if you didn’t. I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else says
about you, me or us.” He gestured between the three of them. “I
love you both and I want to be with you, and I’m willing to make
whatever sacrifices necessary to make that happen. You two are the
ones who refuse to take a chance.” He stalked toward the door and
then spun around to face them. “And you think I’m a child, do you?
Well, I suppose I haven’t proved myself to you yet, then. But I’m
getting damn tired of being the one who always has to prove himself
and the only one who’s fighting to keep us together.” He turned and
walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Avril was suddenly
overcome with tears, a sob escaping as she buried her face in her
hands. He’d left. Again. No matter what he said, he’d left. And in
her heart she knew it was for the best and that he should stay
away, but it hurt.

“
Ah, Avril,”
Graeme said and hauled her back into his arms, resting his chin on
the top of her head. “He’s young and hotheaded. He’ll come to his
senses.” He kissed her temple. “But he’s right, you know. This is a
chance, a big one. I’ll understand if you decide not to take it. I
won’t like it, but I’ll respect it.” He pushed her away and stared
into her eyes. Tears were still running down her cheeks and she
sniffed inelegantly, making Graeme give her a little lopsided grin.
“I think you’re worth fighting for,” he told her, “and Conall too.
But I’ve learned fighting for something doesn’t always mean you win
the fight.”

Graeme turned at the
sound of fast-approaching horses. He was on Cathcart’s Hill,
watching the Russians through a lens again. He’d been here almost
every day for the past two months. Bored out of his skull with the
waiting and wondering, and yet hoping against hope the Russians
stayed just where they were and didn’t cause a fuss. He wasn’t
ready to face another charge, dodge a hail of bullets and a wall of
bayonets. Love took the fight out of a man, he supposed.

Brodie and Douglas
climbed down off their horses at Graeme’s side, their faces grim.
Graeme felt a cold seep into his bones, the sort of cold that never
went away. “Tell me,” he said simply, bracing for the
blow.

“
He’s gone,”
Douglas said. “With the Zouaves.”

“
The
Zouaves?” Graeme asked in confusion. “What is he doing with the
French?”

“
Those damn
crazy Frenchmen are storming the Russian works again,” Douglas spat
out, throwing his cap on the ground in disgust. “Conall got wind of
it and he’s going with them.”

“
Tonight?”
Graeme asked. “Or now? When are they going?” He looked around,
wondering where to go first.

“
Ask him,”
Douglas said, glaring at Brodie as he pointed at him
accusingly.

“
I told you I
don’t know,” Brodie said angrily. “And why shouldn’t he go?” He
crossed his arms and glared at Graeme. “I know what happened this
morning. You don’t accuse a man of not being a man and expect him
to take it lying down.”

Graeme clutched his
constricted chest, an involuntary move as his heart began to ache.
“He went to prove he’s a man? I know he’s a man, the bloody
fool!”

“
I’m not
going to pretend I don’t know what’s going on between you,” Douglas
said. “I’ll say this once—this is on Conall’s head, not yours. He’s
man enough to know foolishness when he’s about it.”

“
Tell me how
he came to go with the French,” Graeme demanded of Brodie. “Tell me
everything.”

“
He came to
see me at General Raglan’s headquarters,” Brodie said reluctantly.
“I was there with Colonel McMillan and his aides. The French
General, Canrobert, was there with some Zouaves, talking about
making some surprise attacks on the works, just to prove to the
Russians that they could take them if they wanted. French nonsense,
really. Conall heard them and asked to be allowed to go with them.
General Raglan laughed and said if he was so eager to fight he
should go. He gave him to the French, telling them he was one of
those fierce Highlanders from Balaclava, and the Russians would
probably see him and run.”

“
The works?”
Graeme asked. “Where? Which one?”

“
I don’t
know,” Brodie said. “They hadn’t decided yet.”

“
You bloody
stupid fool,” Douglas said, cuffing Brodie on the side of the head.
Brodie yelped and danced out of his way.

“
What?”
Brodie asked defensively. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To fight the
Russians? It isn’t as if Conall didn’t survive an advance of the
entire Russian cavalry at Balaclava. We all did. Those Russians
don’t know how to fight.”

“
They know
how to fight, you idiot,” Douglas told him in disgust. “Balaclava
was a mistake on their part, a bad decision by a bad officer. They
learned their lesson there. One fool wearing the Black Watch isn’t
going to stop them from killing the lot of those damn French, and
Conall in their midst. In this weather, one bullet is all it takes
to kill a man. Once he’s down in this cold they’ll just leave him
there to freeze. If you weren’t so busy toadying up to the colonel
and his daughter you’d have been out on patrol and seen the frozen
bodies lying about. That’s what the Russians do with their own dead
and dying even. Christ.” He spat on the ground. “It’s the damn
Zouaves I’m more worried about. A more suicidal, mad bunch I’ve
never seen. They’ll attack a regiment with only two men just for
the fun of it.”

Brodie had gone pale at
Douglas’s tirade. He turned to Graeme. “Is it true?” he asked in a
horrified whisper.

“
Yes,” Graeme
told him, terror making him incapable of speech or even clear
thought. “I have to go find him,” he said. “I need to get my
things. I have to tell Avril I’m going.”

“
Take my
horse,” Brodie said, passing him the reins. “I’ll make my way to
the colonel’s house and try to find out where they
went.”

“
No,” Douglas
said harshly. “I know someone on the French side, a woman, who can
help us.”

“
Who?” Graeme
demanded, swinging up into the saddle. He ignored the discomfort of
riding in a kilt.

“
A
cantiniere
,” Douglas
said. “A sutler who sells spirits. She knows everything that goes
on in that army.”

“
A French
army barmaid?” Brodie asked in shock. “What can she tell
you?”