Highlander's Ransom (24 page)

By the time the evening meal was ready, Alwin had already
developed a system that incorporated both Stella’s running financial accounting
and Nora’s date-specific records for food. She had even rewritten the last
month’s accounts using her new system just to make sure it would work. Now all
that remained was instructing both women in the new system, though in all
likelihood, it would be primarily Alwin making the decisions and keeping the
records on household affairs. The thought brought a pinch of apprehension to
her as she wound her way back down the spiral staircase toward the great hall.
She still felt nervous at the idea of taking over an entire household, but, she
reminded herself, unconsciously straightening her spine, she knew what she was
doing, and she was smart, capable, and a quick learner even if she did make a
mistake or two. She surprised herself by realizing that she was no longer
nervous at the prospect of staying here at the Sinclair keep. In the short time
that she had been here, the clan had embraced her. There was a sense of
wellbeing that suffused this place. The larders were full even at midwinter,
the people were happy—and then there was whatever was developing between her
and Robert. She didn’t want to be overly naïve and call it love, but she was
coming to trust in not only their passion for each other, but the ever growing
respect and consideration toward one another, and that led her to feel hopeful
at the prospect of a happy union.

A girlish grin crept to her face, and she didn’t mind.
She glided into the great hall, her eyes searching for the ruggedly handsome
face of her husband. She found it, but it was clouded with a deep frown. When
his cold eyes met hers, a shiver of premonition rushed through her.

Chapter 34

Robert wiped the sweat dripping down his face with the
back of his bare forearm, then returned his hand next to the other to grip his
sword, poised and ready for Burke’s attack. The two men circled each other
slowly, waiting for an opening, but both were too well trained and too familiar
with each other to give anything away easily.

“I thought you would have been a bit less timid to
fight me, Burke. You seemed ready a week ago. What happened? Lose your
bollocks?” Robert said, trying to get a rise out of him.

Burke didn’t take the bait, and instead just quirked
his mouth. “Aye, well, we know where to find yours at least. I wonder where the
Lady has stored—”

Robert’s sword came crashing down on Burke’s. Burke
blocked, but just barely. Robert didn’t care that he had fallen for Burke’s
teasing—aye, everyone in the clan could see plainly that he was smitten with
his new bride. But he wouldn’t let Burke go any further in his taunt in front
of the rest of the men. He turned Burke’s block into a bind, winding his sword
up and over his opponent’s and pushing both blades down toward the ground until
both tips rested on the dirt of the yard. Robert moved forward lightning fast,
thrusting his shoulder into Burke and knocking him off balance. The men
surrounding them in a circle rumbled their approval. Burke stumbled back, but
quickly regained his balance, grinning widely.

“Aren’t you the one always bellowing at us to never
reveal a weakness to our enemies?” Burke quipped.

Just as Robert was about to reply, a whistle from the
top of the curtain wall overhead alerted the men below that a rider approached.
Instantly, the playfulness in the yard evaporated, and Robert and Burke,
opponents a moment before, were striding side by side up the stairs to the top
of the wall. When they reached the top, the head watchman turned quickly to
reassure them.

“A messenger, Laird.”

“Open the gate to him, John, but keep a lookout.”

“Aye, Laird.”

As the singular rider drew near, the portcullis was
raised. The road-weary man and horse entered the yard, and the rider flopped
off the animal, clearly exhausted. Robert approached and clasped arms with the
messenger, then shouted over his shoulder, “Get the man some food and drink!”

“Thank you sire. Lord Sinclair, I presume?”

Robert frowned. The man was English, and even used the
Anglicized title of Lord instead of Laird. He clearly hadn’t spent much time
delivering messages in Scotland.

“Aye, I am Laird here. You must have ridden hard from
England to deliver your message,” Robert said carefully.

“Yes, sire, from the borderlands.”

That was enough to confirm what Robert suspected. This
was Raef Warren’s messenger. His stomach turned to stone. He knew that the
missive in response to his ransom demand would come any day now, but now that
it was here, he no longer relished its contents. He wasn’t even sure what he
wished to hear from Warren anymore. For some reason, Warren and his scheming
had mattered less to Robert in these last several days.

“Come, let us discuss this further in private,” he
said to the messenger, guiding him inside the keep.

He knew Alwin was in his solar, so he led the
messenger, along with Burke, into a small meeting room just off of the great
hall. After Stella discretely delivered a mug of ale and a platter of food and
the door was securely shut behind her, Robert turned to the messenger with icy detachment.

“It is safe now. You can deliver the message.”

The messenger slipped his hand underneath the dusty
leather surcoat he wore, and after a moment of rummaging, extracted a sealed
and folded parchment. Warren’s seal. Robert broke it with more force than was
necessary and unfolded it to reveal the short missive. Resisting the urge to
crumple it in his hand, he instead passed it to Burke, who flicked his eyes
over it quickly but didn’t reveal his thoughts in front of the messenger.

“Thank you. Your duty is complete. You are welcome to
stay the night and take any refreshment you require for yourself or your
horse,” Robert said to the messenger stiffly.

The messenger bowed and exited the small room, leaving
Robert and Burke. Once the heavy wooden door was closed firmly, Robert swore.
Burke’s eyes were steady on him.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, Robert? For
Warren to agree to a ransom?”

Robert raked his hand through his hair. “Aye, this is
what I wanted when I wrote to him.” He didn’t bother saying that now he wasn’t
so sure that he wanted the same thing anymore. Burke knew his mind and could
see as plainly as anyone else that what was growing between him and Alwin was
more than the typical politically advantageous arranged marriage. But the game
he was playing was dangerous. He had known all along that inflaming Warren’s
pride and going for his coffers could be a double blow if it worked, but that
was assuming he could keep Alwin safe and out of Warren’s grasp. He had always
relished the idea of depriving Warren of whatever it was that he wanted, but
now it was more complicated. Now the thought of Alwin in Warren’s hands—in his
bed—made him sick and blind with rage.

And Warren was demanding just that.

He had written that he would require proof that his
beloved betrothed was unharmed, and that therefore the exchange of money would
only happen after Alwin had been delivered to his keep. Worse, the missive said
that Warren had already informed Alwin’s father, Lord Hewett, of his daughter’s
abduction, and Hewett had vowed not to pay out the dowry. The bastard! Robert
was sure that Warren was trying to find a way to both collect Alwin and not
deliver the ransom money. Instead of a meeting face to face to facilitate the
exchange, he would hide behind the walls of his stronghold like the coward he
was, locking Alwin away with him. And he couldn’t be sure whether or not Warren
was lying about Hewett’s knowledge and refusal to pay the dowry, but either
way, Robert’s plan was crumbling.

“Perhaps you can renegotiate the terms of the
exchange,” Burke said quietly.

“Perhaps.” Or would there be a way to present Alwin to
Warren and make the exchange, but pull her out of Warren’s grasp somehow before
he could touch her? Robert’s mind churned, trying to come up with some
alternative. He doubted Warren would budge on the details of the exchange, so
his original idea to take the ransom money without delivering Alwin would no
longer work. Warren had also been holding his castle in the borderlands for
several years, despite the battles swirling around him and several efforts by
the Scots to retake it. It was unlikely that Robert, Burke, and a few of their
best men could simply storm the castle and retrieve Alwin once she was
delivered. And Warren had seen her, so a stand-in wouldn’t work. What if…what
if he simply gave up his pursuit of the ransom money?

Suddenly he felt a cold sinking inside him. How could
he think of such a thing? His clan was counting on him, not only for the
security that so much money would provide, but also because dealing such a blow
to Warren would hinder his ability to incite more war. That would be money that
Warren couldn’t use to provide supplies to English troops, or fortifications on
his keep. And he would lose face and standing with the nobility at court. He
could no longer bend their ears about launching another campaign in Scotland if
they were all laughing at him behind his back about his loss of a bride and the
emptying of his coffers.

How could he let his selfish desire for one woman
cloud his duty to his clan, to his country? He and Alwin had shared a few
nights of passion, and he admired her character, but he had more to think about
than just their regard for each other. He couldn’t seek his own pleasure at the
cost of his people’s. Even as he told himself all this, though, a voice in his
head screamed at him that he would be making the biggest mistake of his life to
turn away from Alwin and whatever it was that was growing between them. He
pushed this voice harshly aside. He had to do something to salvage his plans in
the interest of his people.

“I am Laird,” he said aloud, almost to reassure
himself that he had not only the power to make his own decisions but the
responsibility to look after the best interests of his people.

Burke raised his brows, a look of worry on his face.
“What are you planning, Robert?”

Without answering, Robert stepped around him and
through the door toward the great hall. It was time for him to face up to his
responsibility. Just as he reached the head table, he caught a glimpse of
Alwin’s radiant smile as she approached, though it slipped when her eyes met
his. His heart clenched. He had to do this, even if it meant ruining them both.
He would become the monster, close his heart against her so that he could get
through what he needed to do next.

Chapter 35

Alwin approached Robert cautiously. When she reached
him, she extended her hand toward his arm, longing to feel his strength, but
she recoiled when she searched his eyes, finding only a detached iciness in
their pale blue depths. He crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to build a
wall between them.

“I have much to tell you about my day,” she began
hesitantly. “I think you will be pleased when you hear of it. I have been
working to create a new system for the ledgers and—”

“Silence.” His voice was low enough for only her to
hear, even surrounded by clanspeople preparing for the evening meal, but it
held such a jagged edge of ice that Alwin inhaled sharply.

“Robert, what is—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he wrapped a large
hand around her arm and drew her toward the stairs leading to their chamber.
Once inside, he released her arm, but loomed over her.

“When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it,”
he bit out.

She forgot her shock in the swell of anger his words
and tone brought on. “I am not your subject or your serf to be ordered about. I
am your wife!”

“You are my captive.”

Her blood instantly went from heated with anger to
chilled with dread. “Then what has the last fortnight been? I thought we agreed
to make a
union
.”

“That was a mistake. I kidnapped you for one reason,
and one reason only.”

All traces of the lover she had been getting to know,
the honor-bound man, the caring leader, were gone from him. In front of her
stood the terrifyingly determined, cold-hearted warrior she had met all those
weeks before along the road. “What are you saying?” The feeling of dread building
in the pit of her stomach told her she didn’t want to know the answer.

“Warren has agreed to a ransom. Unfortunately, he
insists that you be delivered to him before he will pay out. You will be
transported tomorrow morning. We will do everything we can to extract you from
his hold, but the exchange must happen first,” he said flatly through gritted
teeth.

It took her a moment to register the full weight of
what he was saying. As she stood there with her mouth open, he turned his back
on her, and she was left staring at the broad, muscled planes. Like a stone
wall. He was sending her to Warren to collect the ransom money. She would be
transported…like so many goods. Just as her father and Warren had done. He had
said they would try to rescue her, but only after she was back in Warren’s
grasp. She meant nothing to him—or not nothing, but only money, a bargaining
chip to get what he really wanted. And all the intimacy they had shared? The
passion? The quiet conversations spoken in bed in the early hours of the
morning about their families, their fears, their hopes?