Highlander's Ransom (11 page)

“Nay, Alwin,” he said softly, taking a slow step
toward her so as not to frighten her. “Believe me when I say that I do not
desire to hurt you, and I wish there had been another way besides this.”

“Did you know that I would be in that wagon? Did you
attack us intentionally?”

“Nay, though I have been working in that area on and
off for several years,” he said honestly. “I have been conducting
intelligence-gathering missions around the borderlands, trying to learn all I
can about an impending war, and doing everything in my power to thwart it.”

“Why? Do you truly hate the English so much?”

He paused, considering the hurt underlying her
question. “The English have done much wrong to Scotland, but nay, that is not
the reason for my actions.”

“Then why?”

He held her eyes with his. “Peace. We have all lost
far too much to the feuding between our countries. My clan, and most others as
well, long only to rebuild, start families, and grow prosperous for the next
generation. We fight because we must, but our goal has always been peace. And
freedom from the threat of invasion and usurpation.”

Alwin sank down to the floor, all the fight seeming to
go out of her. “But why did you have us married? How does that bring peace?”
Her sudden exhaustion and deep grief tugged at him, but he maintained his
distance, both physically and emotionally.

“Warren will want you back, if for no other reason
than to save face. I plan on negotiating a ransom with him for you.”

A look of horror transfixed her features. “You would
hand me over to him for
money
?” He could see the fury building in her
again, but this time it ran deeper. Before he could speak, she went on. “And
that must be why you’ve arranged this little wedding ceremony as well. You
wanted my dowry, and somehow you knew that my father would only pay it out
after a marriage.”

“Alwin, let me explain—”

“No! Your actions already have! You’re just like
them
!”
she shouted. She pulled her knees into her chest and huddled in a ball in the
corner. Tears of rage and betrayal began flowing down her cheeks. “All you want
is money, and all you see in me is a pawn for you to control! Don’t touch me!”
The last was screamed as he took several steps toward her, reaching out to
soothe her.

Robert felt desperation claw at him in response to her
words and tears. He had to get through to her. She could hate him if she
wanted, but she had to know his real motives and intentions. He knelt in front
of her and took her arms in his hands, giving her a little shake.

“Listen to me, Alwin. You must listen. I won’t ever
let Raef Warren touch you again. I said I would negotiate a ransom payment from
him, not that I would give you over to him. If he has to shell out a huge
ransom, then that money can no longer be used to fund his warmongering. And as
for your dowry, that money too would just be going to Warren. Think of the
lives that will be saved if all that money cannot be used to wage a war on
Scotland.”

He knew she had heard him, but she burned him with a
gaze filled with betrayal and hate.

“Even if I believed all that you have said,” she said
bitterly, “I will never forgive you for the wrong you have done. You have taken
away my choice and my freedom. You have made me a pawn, a bargaining chip for
your own schemes. And in that way, you are just like my father and Raef
Warren.”

He let his hands fall from her arms. His chest
squeezed in fear at the thought of her hatred of him. He tried to push the
feeling away, though. One lass’s loathing was worth the lives of hundreds,
perhaps thousands. He had to live with his betrayal of her, and her justified
abhorrence of him. That was his burden as Laird and leader of his people.

“I cannot change your mind, then,” he said curtly,
standing. “We continue north in an hour’s time. Be ready.”

Chapter 16

Burke could hear Alwin’s angry shouting from where he
stood several paces from the cottage. The men, who had been slowly readying
their horses to resume their travel, turned to him with a spectrum of curiosity
and concern on their faces. He returned them to their tasks with a wave of his
hand, but Paul, who stood at his side, gripped his forearm and stared at the
door.

“Is everything alright, Burke?” he asked.

“Aye, it’s fine, Father. Just a newlywed’s quarrel,
I’m sure,” he said through clenched teeth. Robert had done it this time. He
understood his friend’s motivations, and knew that he sought the greatest good
for his people, but damn the man for hurting an innocent lass in the process.
To make matters more complicated, Burke had noticed the way the two of them had
been drawn to each other like magnets from the start. Their eyes followed each
other when their bodied weren’t plastered together atop Dash. Robert had even
seemed to soften somewhat, showing her kindness and being considerate of her
comforts, what little they were, along this harrowing journey. When Alwin had
been struck by the bastard Warren, Burke had seen a protective side to Robert
that he had never revealed before. And though he did not know Alwin well, he
guessed that she didn’t let just any man wrap her in his arms and allow herself
to fall asleep against his chest.

The shouting had died down somewhat, but Burke could
still hear their voices coming from inside. He secretly hoped that Alwin
wouldn’t bend under Robert’s force of will, that she wouldn’t let her spirit be
crushed by Robert’s disregard and callousness toward her. From what he had seen
of the lass so far, he imagined that the struggle between them was only just
beginning.

The bang of the cottage door as it slammed with a good
deal of force against the wall startled Burke out of his thoughts. He turned to
see Robert storming through the doorframe, looking like an angry bull. He
stomped right by Burke, but as he passed, he said in a low and dangerous voice,
“Not a word.” He kept walking until he was amongst his men, where he silently
saw to saddling up Dash.

All the preparations for departure had been made and
half of the men were already mounted when Alwin finally emerged from the
cottage. Her cheeks were dry, but Burke could see the tear tracks down her
face, and her eyes were red-rimmed and tight. She held her chin steady, though,
and glided over to Burke’s side.

“Although we have a thing or two to discuss, Burke,”
she said tautly, “I would like to ride with you the rest of the way to Roslin
if that would be alright.”

Just then, Robert wheeled Dash over and glared down at
them. “No, that will not be alright. You ride with me, lass.” The deadly calm
in his voice belied the fire and ice warring in his light blue eyes.

Alwin stared up at him, first with disbelief in her
clouded eyes, then with a combination of hate and sadness. Burke caught the
slightest quiver in her lower lip, but then she pressed her lips together to
steel herself. She turned to him and said, “Please thank Father Paul for all he
had done to…help us.” She seemed to nearly lose control again in getting out
those words, but before she could, Robert scooped her up from the ground and
placed her in front of him on the saddle.

Burke rushed to thank Father Paul for his hospitality,
then mounted up with the others, and after a whistle from Robert, nudged his
horse into a trot toward the mountains in the north.

Raef Warren slammed the door of his study in the
curious face of his page. Thankfully, none of his staff had voiced their
questions, but they didn’t need to. They had all witnessed him ride back
through his keep’s gates, with less than a third of the men he had ridden out
with earlier. Those who had returned had been in a sorry state—some were
injured, and most had scrapes and dents in their armor. And Raef was no exception.
Deep red scratches ran down his face and neck from where that little bitch had
clawed him.

He flopped down in the finely upholstered chair behind
his desk and drew a small circular mirror from one of the drawers. He cursed
loudly at the sight of his face. She would pay for each scratch, never mind the
fact that they would heal in a matter of days. It wouldn’t happen soon enough
for Raef, though. Undoubtedly there would be whispers within his walls of his
being bested by the tiny little twit of an English girl, the one whom he was
supposed to be rescuing. Word of her resistance would also be a problem.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Who is it?” he shouted crossly.

“It is Jossalyn, brother,” came the timid reply
through the door’s thick wood.

“Come,” he said with irritation.

His sister eased the door open and stepped into his
study hesitantly. She was carrying a few jars in one hand. “I thought you might
want me to see to those scratches,” she said quietly, keeping her blond head lowered
and her green eyes on the floor. “I already saw to the men who returned with
you. They will all be fine, I think.”

“I don’t need any of your little ointments, sister,”
he said coldly. “Is there anything else?”

She shook her head and backed toward the door, but
hesitated and seemed to search for resolve. Finally, she spoke again, trying to
hold her voice steady and clear this time. “Perhaps your people would respond
better to you if you let them see me for healing. While you were gone I went to
the village and treated a boy who—” Her voice was cut off as his fingers
wrapped around her throat. He had flown from his seat in a flash and now
squeezed her neck with one hand. She tried to swallow her fear—he had done the
like before to her—but couldn’t get her throat to work properly.

“Keep your thoughts inside your pretty little head,
Jossalyn, unless you want me to dash them from you with my fists,” he hissed in
front of her face. “You are not to go into the village, and you will assist
only those I tell you to.”

She nodded as best she could, but he gave her neck an
extra squeeze before releasing her. She scurried out the door and shut it
quickly behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more.

If only his intended bride had been as easy to control
as his sister was, he thought with frustration. The little hellion had fought
back, which Jossalyn had given up doing long ago. He forced himself to cool his
thoughts, though. He needed a plan, something that would cover this most recent
misstep and reposition him to lead the English to victory in Scotland—slowly
enough so that he could skim some of the plunder off the top for himself.

Perhaps he would have to consider Alwin Hewett a loss,
he thought with a sigh. The idea of giving over a ransom to a Scot—a Sinclair
in particular—grated. He simply couldn’t do it. He might as well announce to
all in England and Scotland that he was weak, couldn’t keep his woman under
control, couldn’t even outsmart or outmaneuver a Highland barbarian. But
perhaps he could still turn this situation in his favor yet. He sat down in his
chair once more, and, smoothing his hair and silk breeches, he pondered the
possibility of arranging for her death.

Chapter 17

Alwin sat rigidly in the saddle, trying to keep space
between herself and Robert. She had scooted as far forward as she could without
sitting directly on the pommel, and kept her back rod-straight so as to avoid
contact with the apparently indifferent Scot behind her. A knot had long since
settled in her lower back, and she had to distract herself yet again by raising
her ire. The uncaring, controlling, manipulative…man! She had begun to trust
him in the short time that she had been with him—been kidnapped by him, she
reminded herself. She had been a fool to think that a barbarian who had
slaughtered dozens if not hundreds of men, and who had likely been thieving
from the English for years, would treat her as anything more than a pawn in his
scheming. Why had she believed that he could be trusted? It was a sign that she
was a naïve and silly girl. She had thought herself strong because she had
stood up to her father a few times. She cursed herself, grief replacing her
anger for the hundredth time this evening. Now she could see the truth. She was
easily duped by the tiniest gestures of kindness he had granted her. She had
longed to believe that underneath his gruff and cold exterior, he was
honorable, brave, strong, and kind. He had likely sensed her growing trust,
perhaps even the pull he seemed to have over her, and had used it against her.
This thought brought heat to her face and the sting of tears to her eyes yet
again. Aye, he had even used his kiss against her, making her think for a
moment that there was a spark of genuine desire between them.

She inhaled a lungful of cold evening air to clear her
thoughts. The sun was just setting behind one of the many mountains that had
replaced the forests and rolling hills of the borderlands and Lowlands. They
traveled in the open now, since there were only low shrubs, thickets of
heather, and jagged rock outcroppings to move between. She guessed that they
had crossed over into the Highlands; not only had the landscape become more
rugged, but also the men seemed a bit more at ease with their surroundings.
Nevertheless, they maintained a quick pace, and Alwin wondered if they were
going to ride through the night again.

She had her answer a few hours later. Robert wheeled
his horse off of the line they were making northward, and their group moved
west for several minutes. Alwin noticed a lighter colored blob emerging in
front of them through the early night darkness, and as they drew nearer, she
realized that it was a large outcropping of pale rock. Robert halted them in
front of the rock, which Alwin guessed stood over twenty feet high. He
dismounted and pulled her down after him, then took her by the elbow and guided
her even closer. He moved with assuredness despite the darkness. For her part,
she stumbled several times, only staying upright because of his firm grip on
her elbow.