Sarah Gabriel (11 page)

“Many will say we should not be cooperating with them at all. And I’ll make no oaths with a man I cannot trust.”

“You can trust me, you just do not know it. I’ll have your promise, or it’s chains with locks for you.” He shifted the satchel, chains chinking inside.

“That’s not amusing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’ll have your word, now.” His voice deepened from teasing to somber.

“Only until we reach the inn. And only because I’m starving and tired.”

“I’m sure you are.” He walked beside her, his hand on her elbow, leaves crushing underfoot, the air moist and cool. “So we’ll call it a truce.”

“For now,” she warned.

M
oonlight bathed the inn as Alec led Kate toward the stone two-story building. Windows glowed with warm light through red curtains, and a tin lantern burned on a hook beside the door. To the left Alec heard sounds from the stables behind the inn: horses snorting, a groom calling out. He doubted Jack MacDonald would be here yet, and he only hoped the fellow was safe.

Glancing at Kate, he reached down to pull up the plaid arisaid she wore to cover her blond hair. She was too noticeable, Alec thought, with hair like a lantern flame. Luckily, her lightweight, silk-lined plaid was long enough to cover her from crown to knee.

“Best if you’re not easily recognized,” he explained as he opened the door. Guiding her inside, he ignored the glare she sent him, knowing very well she did not want to be with him, and he certainly understood her need to be free.

Her gaze caught his, and for a moment he saw uncertainty beneath her rebellious frown. Setting a hand on her shoulder, he leaned close to murmur at her ear. “I promise no one will know you’re my prisoner so long as you behave. Agreed?”

She nodded, and her next glance tugged at his heart again.

The main room was dim, smoky from candles and tobacco, and filled with voices, music, and the savory smells of good food. Near the fireside, an old man played a fiddle, the plaintive tones wafting outward. Scarred tables and benches were arranged throughout the room, occupied by men and a few women.

Alec quickly saw that some of the men wore coats and breeches and spoke English, while the rest were Highlanders in bulky plaids. He saw with relief that there were no soldiers present.

“Keep quiet, and please keep your head down,” he told Kate.

Hearing his name called, Alec turned. Behind a high counter, the gray-haired owner, James MacLennan, raised a hand in greeting. Beside him stood his daughter, a pretty, dark-haired young woman holding a swaddled infant against her shoulder. Seeing Alec, she smiled and hurried toward him.

“Miss MacLennan, greetings.” Alec removed his
cocked hat, still keeping a firm hand on Kate’s slender shoulder. His prisoner was silent, tucking her head in the shadow of her plaid. Jean glanced toward her curiously.

“Welcome back, Captain Fraser. And welcome to you, Miss—”

“Jean MacLennan—meet Kate,” Alec said, while Kate mumbled a greeting in return.

Jeanie smiled, her pink cheeks, glossy black hair, and dark eyes all sparkle and warmth. All the while, she patted the infant, a squirming bundle on her shoulder. “Is Mr. MacDonald with you, sir?”

“He’ll join us later this evening. We had a slight mishap with our carriage and walked here ahead of him. ’Twill take him some time to repair the, ah, damage.” He smiled. “Your little one is doing well, I hope.” He could not recall what gender the creature was, or its name, though he had been introduced to it during a visit two months earlier. It had been newborn then, he remembered.

He hoped Jack remembered, the thorough rascal.

“Oh, aye. He smiles now, and sleeps through most nights,” she said proudly, while the child whimpered. “He won’t keep you up the night this time, Captain Fraser.”

Kate looked squarely at Alec and lifted a brow.

“I generally hire the room above Jean’s,” he explained.

“We have that room ready for you tonight, Captain. I’ll tell Father.” Jean hastened across the room to speak with the innkeeper, who tapped ale from a keg into a pewter pitcher. The man turned to grin as Alec approached.

“Welcome, Captain. Will you be hiring another room for the lady?” he asked.

Kate began to speak, and Alec squeezed her shoulder. “One will do…for my wife and me,” he said impulsively, knowing he could not chance putting Kate in a separate room. Kate jerked her shoulder under his hand in protest.

“Wife?” The innkeeper looked astonished, while Jean gaped at Alec, who only smiled.

“Bride,” he corrected. “We’ve just been wed.”

“Only just,” Kate muttered.

“So it’s Mrs. Fraser, then! Congratulations,” Jean said brightly, patting her infant son. Her father handed her a key. “Come this way. Will you take the lantern for us, Captain?”

Alec took the glowing lantern MacLennan handed him, and he and Kate followed Jean up a flight of wooden steps to the second floor, and onward to the corner room that Alec usually hired on his trips back and forth between Edinburgh and Fort William. Opening the narrow, creaking door, Jean stepped back, soothing the baby again, who squawked and quieted.

“I changed the bed linens a week ago,” Jean said. “No one has slept here but either you or Jack MacDonald. And most of the time he keeps company elsewhere. It’s three shillings more to change the linens, as you know, sir.”

“These will do,” he said, though Kate made a choking sound. “Can you provide some supper for us? I know it’s past nine, but my wife is famished.” Kate
would need a decent meal after several days in prison, he knew, and he could do with something himself.

“My father would tell you to take bread and cheese tonight, and wait for bacon to be thrown on the griddle after dawn. But there’s mutton stew left, and half a loaf of brown bread. I’ll fix that up for you both and have it ready for you downstairs.”

“Thank you.” Alec fished a few coins from his jacket pocket.

“Will Jack MacDonald want a meal and bed when he returns?”

“I’m sure of it,” Alec answered, “though he may not arrive until morning.”

“I’ll watch for him. Oh, we also have new casks of ale and a good Spanish rum. Captain, and Mrs. Fraser,” she added as she turned to go. Alec held the door open for her.

“We’ll be down directly.” He steered Kate into the room, then slipped Jean the coins, which she fisted against her child’s swaddling.

When he turned, shutting the door, Kate was staring at the bed. “I am not sleeping there.”

Two steps took him to the bed, where Alec sat on the mattress, which sagged and groaned beneath him. He patted the lumpy surface. “It’s comfortable. I’ve slept here often.”

“So I gather.” She folded her arms.

“If you’re thinking I’ll take advantage of you while we’re alone, don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe.” While he craved another night of delight with her in his arms,
he could not allow that to happen. “I give you my word.”

She frowned, brows tight, her gray-blue eyes like captured moonlight. Then she lifted her chin. “You can hire another room.”

“I’m frugal. We’ll share this one. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep there. The bed linens are old, and used.”

“As you heard, I’m the only one who’s slept here,” he pointed out. “Perhaps Jack once or twice.”

“And who knows who else!” She wrinkled her nose.

“I hire the room out for a month or more at a time, since I travel back and forth to Fort William rather frequently.”

“You gave the lass a coin, but did not ask for fresh linens, nor even another blanket.”

“I gave her the coin to keep for herself, not to pay for services, since she turns every penny over to her father. And I will not ask her to do extra work for one short night’s rest here. You’ve just spent days in a prison cell. I would think this would seem a Pasha’s paradise after that.”

“I was raised to certain standards.”

“Oh? A gentle upbringing, I assume. And where was it that you were raised?” He cocked a brow.

“At home, with clean linens on my own bed.” She glowered at him. “As long as we are here, I’d like a bath. A private one.”

He stood and looked down at her. “You can be a fine, spoiled, wee thing when you get a notion in your head. So the mysterious Miss Hell apparently had a privileged upbringing.”

“I just need a bath, not an interrogation. I’m tired.”

“I understand that. At this hour, you’ll have to make do. I won’t ask Jean to heat water and climb the stairs to fill a hip tub for you. She has enough to do, and a small babe to care for, and no husband. Her father runs her ragged as it is. He’s been no less demanding of her since the babe’s birth.”

“Is she not wed? Whose babe is it…yours? Perhaps you should sleep with her instead and leave me here,” she suggested.

“The babe is not mine, I promise you. It’s Jack’s.” He set his hat on the bed, ruffled a hand through his hair, rubbed his eyes. God, he thought, he was more weary than he realized. He wanted to take off his jacket and just go to sleep. But the enticing thought of resting in that bed with Kate gave him more than a moment’s pause.

Potentially a very dangerous night, he thought.

Kate watched him. “So Jack MacDonald is the father?”

“The girl refuses to say, though I’m sure of it. And Jack would marry her, I think. He’s fond of the lass, but he’s not inclined to settle down. Jean has not pressed for it, either.”

“Perhaps she loves him that much,” Kate said quietly. “Enough to give him his freedom.”

He paused to glance at her. “I suppose that’s it. She’s a decent lass. No one holds it against her that she got with child before marriage. We Scots are very good about tolerating missteps within families. How does your family tolerate your, ah, wild ways?”

“Fine, since it was their idea.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “I mean—”

“Aha,” he said simultaneously. “So you admit to a wee bit of mischief.”

“Any mischief I have committed was mostly with you.” Kate folded her arms. “I can easily understand how Jean got into her dilemma. Jack MacDonald is a true charmer.”

“Is he? I suppose so. What of me?”

“Chaining women is not very engaging.” She turned to look around the room. “Tell me, will Jack accept responsibility for his child?”

“Jack acknowledges it, but taking responsibility is another matter.” Alec shrugged.

“Then do you trust him to return with the carriage?”

“Don’t look so hopeful. He’ll be here. Jack keeps his word, once given. But in the matter of ladies, he can be a fickle soul and avoids giving his word like the plague. As for your bath,” he went on, “there’s a basin and pitcher in that corner, where you can wash up.” He indicated a table that held a large ceramic pitcher and a wide bowl. “We can ask for hot water later. If I know Jean, what’s there now is clean, and the towels will be fresh, too. I pay an extra fee to have clean towels and plenty of soap and water on hand—though I’m not so particular about bed linens, since I’m hardly here to use them, and the room is not hired out otherwise.”

Kate wrinkled her nose, then walked toward the washstand to peer into the white pitcher. A thick chunk of soap sat in a small dish, and a linen towel was folded beside it. On the wall above the stand hung a small, round, cracked mirror. She glanced there, lifted a hand, and dropped back her shawl, so that her golden hair
tumbled over her shoulders. Pouring a little water into the bowl, she washed her hands and rinsed her face.

At the simple sight, Alec felt a strong urge rush through his body—straightforward lust, he thought, nothing more. She held no real magic over him, he tried to tell himself.

But when she removed her cloak and tossed it aside, when she lifted her modesty kerchief away to pass the linen towel over the exposed tops of her breasts, he felt that magic begin to work.

And realized he was staring. He glanced away, fiddled with the lantern, slid open the horn plate, lowered it again. The flickering shadows and golden light only made her seem more beautiful, more lush and perfect, when he glanced her way again.

She sent him a little glance. Interesting how her eyes could look like precious silver one moment and storm clouds the next, he thought. She turned her back, and he turned away.

He heard more water sloshing in the bowl. Then the splashes stopped. “Captain Fraser, I do need some privacy.”

He stood, his back discreetly turned. “I’ll be just outside the door. There’s no other way out of this room,” he added pointedly, as he left.

Standing in the dark, narrow corridor, he heard further splashing in the bowl. When it stopped for a decent interval, he knocked and entered again.

Kate stood by the dresser with her skirts hiked, one bare foot propped on the bed while she slid a dampened towel along her calf. Alec glimpsed her slim,
shapely limbs—taut and smooth, skin like cream—before she dropped her skirts in a flurry.

He spun away, heart pounding so that he felt as if he were under a spell. She was fey and beautiful, her scrubbed face glowing, her hair in damp tendrils. Alec felt stunned, though he tried to convince himself that he could resist whatever power she seemed to have over men.

He waited in silence while she splashed further, then he heard her pouring the water from the basin into the slops bowl, and pouring fresh from the pitcher. Then he felt the towel slap over his shoulder.

“Your turn, sir.” She breezed past him to sit on the bed, rope-sprung mattress creaking even with her slight weight.

At the bowl, Alec rinsed his hands and face and splashed his neck, grateful the water was cool. He felt hot enough already, hot to the core of his being. He removed his red coat and matching waistcoat to stand in his rumpled shirtsleeves and the wrapped and belted plaid that he so often wore, its dark blues and greens hiding the grime of his constant travels.

He did not turn but felt her gaze upon him. In the small, clouded mirror hung above the washstand, he glimpsed her, a lovely creature, fairylike in the dim glass.

Washing his hands thoroughly, then raking his fingers through his hair to comb it, he tugged at the queue with its black ribbon—he rarely wore even a bag wig, for he hated the itch of the things—then paused to cover his eyes with his palms for a moment.

“Tired, Captain?” she asked.

“No,” he answered curtly, though he was. He generally kept matters to himself. He straightened the banded collar of his shirt and turned.

“Shall we eat now?” she asked, sitting up eagerly. She stretched her arms high, as if savoring the feel of hands free of irons. Her breasts shifted deliciously under the stiffened bodice that elegantly defined her slim torso. Standing, she rested her hands at her waist, fingers tapping.

Alec stared, feeling again the sudden burgeoning in his body. He would have to suppress that if they were to spend a night together in this room, in that bed.