Highlander's Ransom (25 page)

“You coward.” The words flew from her mouth, but she
didn’t regret them.

He spun on his heels to face her once again, but this
time the flat detachment in his eyes was gone and in its place was a searing
blue fire. “Coward, am I? Aye, I have been a coward to hide behind your skirts
and seek my own pleasure instead of thinking of my clan. But no more—this
liaison as been…entertaining, but we both knew it couldn’t last.”

“That’s what this is to you? An entertaining liaison?
You were the one who had us wed, and you were the one who denied me an
annulment!”

“I acted in the best interest of my clan, which is
exactly what I am doing now.”

“Are you blind? You think a few extra coins are going
to solve all your clan’s problems? If you believe that, then you are a fool as
well as a coward,” she shouted in his face.

His jaw muscles flexed, and a long silence stretched
between them. His next words came out icy cold. “I shouldn’t expect a spoiled
English lass to understand anything about responsibility, duty, or how to lead
people who rely on you.”

She felt her eyes widen, but she wouldn’t back down
from his insults. “Look around you, Robert. Your people are happy and thriving.
There is enough food in the larders, enough coin in the coffers, the farmers
are gearing up for spring planting, and the shepherds are awaiting a promising
birthing season. The only thing this clan needs is for their Laird to be here
more often.”

His temper snapped at that. “How dare you try to tell
me what’s going on in my clan, or what I should do as Laird? You are an
outsider here.”

She gasped, his barb finding its mark. Even if what he
said was true and she was an unwelcome outsider, she still knew she was right
about the state of his clan. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have spent my time
here trying to learn all I can about the clan’s history and affairs. As I was
trying to tell you before, I have been studying the ledgers that prove the
stability of your people, and I have seen for myself that they are thriving.
You are the only one who seems to think that your people are weak and broken.”

Somewhere through the haze of his rage at Alwin’s
insults about his leadership and the sickening feeling he had at the thought of
sending her to Warren, even if he could somehow find a way to get her back, he
registered her comment about the ledgers. Part of him was surprised that she
had gotten so involved—that she cared enough to learn about his people. But the
enraged part wanted to push her away further, to prove to himself that he was
making the right decision in sending her away and collecting the ransom money.
“What are you doing meddling with the ledgers? What gives you the right?
Looking for weaknesses to exploit?”

She looked as if he had just slapped her. “I was
trying to
help
. I naively believed that I would be staying here as
mistress of the household, so I wanted to offer my skills and training for the
betterment of all here.”

“We don’t need your help. We have always taken care of
ourselves, and don’t need some Englishwoman meddling in our affairs,” he said
bitterly. He knew it was wrong to throw her nationality in her face—she hadn’t
chosen it, and he had already seen her show loyalty and caring toward his
people, Englishwoman or no. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from poisoning
things between them. It would make it easier to send her away. Perhaps if she
hated him, if their union meant nothing, he wouldn’t feel so guilty for risking
handing her over to Warren. He had to push down his own feelings for her,
silence the voice inside his head screaming at him that the risk in sending her
away was too great. Even if he hated every damned second of it.

Her grey eyes blazed, and she looked ready to shout
something in response, but then she stilled. He watched as the tension seemed
to drain from her body, the fight leaving her, and her eyes turn flat and far
off. Eventually, she spoke, but her voice was low and barely audible. “You had
a choice to make, and you have made it.” It was almost as if she spoke more to
herself than to him, trying to resign herself to something.

“Aye, I have.” Even as he could feel his knuckles
going white from how hard he was clenching his hands, he refused to let himself
reach out to her, comfort her, or listen to the part of him that knew he was
wrong. This was the way it had to be. Since he wasn’t going to get her dowry
from her father, and Warren wouldn’t pay out the ransom without securing her
first, he had to send her away. He would find some way to get her back, but he
didn’t know how. He had to salvage what little he could from his original plan
to spurn Warren and extract a price for the lass. He couldn’t let his own
feelings cloud his judgment. Alwin was just one woman.

The woman he was falling in love with
. The thought sprung unbidden to his mind, but he
harshly pushed it aside. What good did love do in times of war? How many others
had already been sacrificed, and how many more would lose love, their homes, or
their lives if he didn’t do everything in his power to stop it? He was sure he
was doing the right thing, but then why did it feel so wrong?

Alwin wouldn’t meet his gaze. It was like a switch had
flipped. One minute she had been yelling heatedly at him, and now she looked
like a shell of herself, her spirit evaporated and only a passive husk left. He
had accomplished what he had set out to do. He had poisoned her against him,
and bent her into submitting to his will. A sick feeling was rising in the back
of his throat. “Prepare to depart in the morning,” he managed gruffly, then
stormed past her toward the door before he did something he would regret. The
problem was, even without taking her into his arms and disavowing every cruelty
he had inflicted on her, he was already swimming in regret. Drowning in it.

Chapter 36

As the chamber door slammed behind Robert, Alwin’s
composure cracked. She crumpled to the floor, no longer able to keep her spin
straight, and no longer caring. She had fought for so long against being
controlled, against having her spirit crushed by those who saw her as only a
pawn. But she couldn’t fight anymore. She had thought that she was strong, but
perhaps she was just a fool. She had wanted to believe that things could be
different with Robert, but she had been wrong. He was just like her father, and
just like Raef Warren—power-hungry, greedy, and driven by ego. She was
heartsick at constantly being used by such men. She didn’t even have the energy
to bring up the sobs that sat heavily in her chest. Instead, she just sat there
in a pile on the floor of the chamber, the tears sliding silently down her
cheeks.

The heady dream she had been drifting through with
Robert seemed almost as if it had never happened. She had been so naïve, so
willing to trust him, to allow herself to fall in love with him. She had never
been in love before, but she knew that this was it—or had been it. And it
wasn’t just the blaze he lit in her, the way his touch could turn her fiery
spirit into an all-consuming passion. It was the fact that she had been vulnerable
with him, that he had honored and respected her vulnerability and showed her
glimpses of his own. And she had come to respect him. He had been compassionate
and protective of her, and of his clanspeople.

But she must have been wrong, for how could he care
about her and still be willing to turn her over to Raef Warren? Even if he did
manage to snatch her from Warren’s clutches, what would Warren do with her
while he had her? That day, which felt like ages ago, when Warren had attacked them
and struck her face, Robert had vowed never to let the man touch or hurt her
again. And now he would break that vow.

For some reason he was setting up this decision like
it was between her or his clan, his happiness or his duty. Alwin saw it
differently. His happiness
was
his clan’s happiness. His duty was now
her
duty as well. She had tried to show him, had argued and shouted and pointed out
all that she saw and thought, but he wouldn’t listen. And she was too tired to
fight him if he wasn’t willing to fight for her. She had to take care of
herself now.

Alwin wiped the sleeve of her dress across each cheek,
forcing herself to pull her mind together. She would not be delivered to that
monster Warren, no matter how briefly, and Robert wouldn’t listen any longer.
She had to take matters into her own hands. She had to escape.

Chapter 37

Robert barreled through the great hall on his way to
the solar. He needed to quiet his mind, and the only place he could think to go
was to the top of the northeast tower. Somehow the place always calmed him. As
a lad, he had sat at his father’s foot as he scrawled in a ledger or consulted
a book. Though a warrior himself, his father had always reminded him that a
Laird had to do more than fighting; he also had to shepherd his clan, learning
their desires, hopes, and fears so that he could protect and care for them.

Robert cursed and shoved his hair back with his hand.
How well had he been living up to his father’s example about how to be a good
Laird? Alwin’s admonition that he was spending too much time away from his
people was still wringing in his ears. But what could she know in such a short
time with his clan? The images of her eager and proud face at the midday meal
every day for the last week came to him; she had been pouring over the clan
history trying to understand him and his people, and she had even said that she
had been working on the ledgers, which Stella had told him were a tangled mess
more than once. He cursed again, the rising fear that Alwin had been right
beginning to choke him—right about his responsibilities to stay with his
people, about his recent failures as a Laird, about his blindness when it came
to Warren…

He had already crossed the yard and was taking the
stairs to the solar two at a time. He threw the door open and slammed it back
closed, hoping that the solitude would clear his mind and help him sort through
his jumbled thoughts. Instead, he was hit with an instant wave of Alwin’s
scent—roses and warmth. She had been spending so much time up here that her
presence lingered even now. That was the last thing he needed to clear his
head. Her soulful blue-grey eyes swam before him, her rosy mouth turned up in a
playful smile. He could clearly picture those same eyes cloudy yet blazing with
passion. Then the image was replaced with the hollow, flat look she had given
him moments before. What had he done?

He tried to shake the regret from him. He had done
what was necessary. If he had hurt her, then so be it, but he had to do this.
He stomped to the desk and tossed himself in the chair, searching for a clean
sheet of parchment for a missive to Warren confirming their exchange. He would
just have to sort out the details of how to extract her from his keep later.
The prospect of such a rescue attempt seemed ridiculous even to him, though.

His eyes fell on the bookshelf on the opposite wall.
Dust coated some of the volumes, but several were clean. Those would be the
ones Alwin had inadvertently dusted when she had drawn them off the shelf and
poured over the pages, probably swirling a strand of her honey brown hair around
a finger distractedly. Christ, he would drive himself insane!

Suddenly
he heard the door being pushed open, and in the next instant Stella walked
through. She started when she saw that he was in the room.

“Apologies, Laird. I was just coming to collect the
household ledgers. I believe Lady Alwin has been working on them, and I think
she may have left them up here.” She spoke calmly, but Robert was sure he was
glaring at her. He glanced around the desk, noticing the leather-bound volume
perched on the corner. Without saying anything, he picked it up and extended it
to her, which she tucked under her arm before turning to go.

Before she made it all the way out the door, though,
she stopped and turned back. “The mistress has us all practicing a new system
of record keeping. Somehow she thinks she can teach a couple of old bats like
me and Nora a new way of doing things.” She chuckled, then paused before going
on. “The more I think on it, though, the more I see that it will be for the
better. You know I can be stubborn, but perhaps it is time for a change. And
truth be told, though I am stuck in my ways, the lass’s new system will
actually be better for the clan.” She stood in the doorway for a moment longer
before returning down the stairs quietly.

Robert stared after her. There was no way the old
woman could have overheard what he and Alwin had spoken of. Perhaps it was all
written on his face. Stella had been there for his birth, had raised him after
his mother had died, and reminded him of the lessons his father had taught him
in the first few years of his Lairdship. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to
himself, he knew that he’d damn well better listen to Stella.

There had to be another way besides pushing Alwin
away, turning her over to Warren, collecting the ransom money, and then
attempting some futile rescue attempt. Why was he more willing to give up the
woman he was falling in love with than give up the hunt to thwart Warren? He
had been at the chase for too long, and had become blinded by his desire for
vengeance. The realization caused the air to rush from his lungs, and he sat
down heavily on the corner of the desk. Was he really thinking only of his clan
while on all the countless raids in the borderlands? Surely his efforts had
helped, but he was more than a soldier or a raider—he was Laird of the clan
Sinclair. He had let himself become caught up in the hunt, in the pleasure of
inflicting wounds on his enemy, and forgot his larger responsibility to be a
leader to his people.