The Magnificent Rogue

“Why?”

  “He changed.” He added wistfully, “They changed him.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged. “Robert doesn’t like us to talk about it.”

  It was clear that subject was closed. “But you’re kinsmen? Your names are different.”

  “Most of the clans have intermarried. My mother was a MacDarren and married a Gordon. When he died, she brought me back to Craighdhu. She never liked the Lowlands. No Highlander does.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  He made a face. “Too rich and fat.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Aye, you’ll know what I mean when we reach Craighdhu.” He guided her around a puddle. “But we’ll stop overnight with my uncle, Angus Gordon, once we reach the border. He’s not a bad man … for a Lowlander.”

  She was amused at the qualification. “I’ll look forward to meeting him. He’s not fat and rich then?”

  “Oh, he’s rich enough, but his reiving keeps him lean and hungry.”

  “Reiving?”

  “Raiding,” he explained. “He raids the English on this side of the border.”

  “You mean he steals?” she asked in astonishment.

  “Of course. But only from the English,” he added quickly. “He wouldn’t steal from a Scot.”

  “And you believe that makes stealing right?”

  “Well, perhaps not right.” He frowned as if trying to work out the ethics. “But it’s custom.”

  She shook her head dazedly as she thought of how Sebastian would view this calm acceptance of the breaking of holy law. “And do you … reive, also?”

  “Well, not exactly. Not from the English.” He opened the barn door and stepped inside to let her precede him. “Of course, there was that one English ship, but Robert only meant to—Robert prefers to raid the Spanish.”

  “I see.” She did not see at all. She felt more bewildered and uneasy with every hesitant step into this new world where it seemed it was perfectly all right to be an outlaw, as long as the crime was aimed at the right party.

  “You’ll be fine.” She turned to see Gavin smiling gently at her. “It only takes getting used to. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

  “Will you?” Her spirits lifted as warmth flowed through her. Why should she be afraid, when this was exactly what she had wanted? She had fought to free herself from Sebastian and all his restrictions, but if she had escaped him before, she would have been alone. Now she had Gavin Gordon to help her through these first steps. “Thank you.” A warm smile lit her face. “Then you’re right—I’ll be fine.”

  “What do you think of her?” They both looked to see Robert leading Caird and a chestnut mare toward her. “She appears strong and gentle enough.”

  Kate stepped forward and patted the mare’s nose. “She’s lovely,” she said. “What’s her name?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Gavin admitted.

  She frowned reprovingly. “Every creature deserves a name.”

  “Sorry,” he said solemnly.

  “I’ll call her Rachel.” She gave the mare a final pat, and then went around her to Caird and began stroking his muzzle. “How are you, boy?”

  The piebald neighed and nudged her.

  “He’s tired,” Robert said bluntly. “And he’ll get more tired. You said the innkeeper is a good man. We could leave him here.”

  She tensed. “He is a good man, but he would have no use for Caird. How would I know who he would sell him to? You said he could come.”

  “Dammit, you like the mare. Look at them together. She’s young and fit, and the piebald is old.”

  “All the more reason to love and take care of him.”

  “It’s no use, Robert,” Gavin said. “I have an idea the horse may be her Craighdhu.”

  She could feel Robert’s gaze on her back as she leaned her forehead against Caird. He muttered something inaudible and then said to Gavin, “Saddle our horses and put a light pack on the piebald.” He grabbed Kate’s wrist in one hand and the mare’s reins in the other and pulled them both out of the barn into the stable yard. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  His grasp on her wrist was generating a strange heat up her arm, and she tried to pull away. “Let me go.”

  He ignored her. “The horse is going to be nothing but trouble. He’ll slow us down. We can’t afford to be slowed down now.”

  She couldn’t deny that Caird would have that effect, so she merely set her jaw and glared at him.

  “And don’t look at me like that. It makes me want to break you.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Another prerogative of power. You’ll find I don’t break easily.”

  “You’re wrong.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “All women are easily broken in one manner.”

  For an instant she didn’t understand, and then his meaning became clear to her. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  “Aye.” His hands closed on her waist and lifted her slowly to the saddle. “We’ll not see a bed again until we reach the border, and I’d prefer to take you the first time on clean sheets than the cold ground. But don’t tempt me, Kate.”

  She could feel the warmth of his hands through the layers of clothing, and it brought the same burning sensation as his grip on her wrist, spreading upward to her breasts, making them exquisitely sensitive. The response frightened her, and she snapped, “I’m not tempting you at all. It’s your own sinful, carnal nature.”

  An indefinable expression flickered across his face. “Very sinful and very carnal,” he agreed softly. “And very impatient.” He turned to Gavin, who was leading Caird and their own horses out of the barn. “Wager taken. Two pounds.”

  Gavin’s troubled gaze went from Robert’s reckless smile to Kate’s flushed face and then back again. “I don’t like this. I think I want to withdraw the wager. It makes me feel responsible.”

  “No? Too bad. The wager stands. And I intend to like it very much indeed.” Robert turned away. “Carnal sinner that I am.”

  Kate watched him mount his horse and trot out of the stable yard before she turned to Gavin. “Wager?”

  “It’s nothing.” Gavin smiled at her. “Only another example of my runaway tongue.” He got on his horse. “But it seems you must have a less than discreet tongue yourself. You should not sting Robert until you learn the way to do it without suffering the consequences. Watch me, and I’ll show you.”

  • • •

  Robert set a grueling pace that afternoon. In three hours Kate’s every muscle was stiff and sore. By the time they stopped at sundown at a clearing near a small brook, she had to struggle just to stay in the saddle.

  “I’ll take the horses down to the brook to water them,” Gavin said as he lifted Kate to the ground. “Sit down and rest.”

  She shook her head. “They’re mine. I can do it.” She took the mare’s and Caird’s reins and led them down the path through the forest toward the brook. She knelt and splashed her face, vaguely aware of Robert and Gavin talking a few yards down the bank but too tired to comprehend their words.

  When she lifted her head a few minutes later, Gavin was no longer there, but Robert stood leaning against a tree, watching her.

  She tensed, then deliberately sat back on her heels and straightened her shoulders. “You need not wait for me, my lord. I can make my way back on my own. I was just refreshing myself.”

  “And trying to keep from fainting,” he said roughly. “For God’s sake, don’t lie to me. I know how weak you must feel. I drove you hard today.”

  “I’m not used to long hours in the saddle. I’ll do better tomorrow.” She forced herself to get to her feet and gather the horses’ reins. “I’ll help Gavin to—”

  “Gavin doesn’t need help.”

  “His wound—”

  “His wound is mending.” Robert stepped forward, tossed her up on the mare again, and gathered both horses’ reins. “And he would not appreciate your cosseting
him. He’s a Highlander.”

  “And Highlanders do not care for each other?”

  “We take care of our own. We don’t ask help from outsiders.”

  Outsiders. The word struck a hollow, hurtful note within her. Yes, that was what she was, what she had always been. From the moment she had been born, she had been the one outside looking in.

  “For God’s sake, why do you look like that?” Robert’s gaze was on her face. “Very well, help him. Drive yourself until you collapse. Why should I care?”

  “You should not.” She had made him angry again, but she was too weary to let it bother her. “I’m nothing to you. I’m an … outsider.”

  “You’re more than that. You’re a troublesome woman who—”

  “The queen forced you to wed,” she suddenly flared. “And you’re a lawless pirate who would be hanging dead for the crows to pick if you hadn’t been given the opportunity to marry me. So I’ll hear no more about how much trouble I am.”

  He went still. “I see Gavin’s been talking again.”

  “He says they call you Black Robert. It was kind of someone to tell me what I must face during the next year.”

  “A lawless pirate.”

  “Isn’t that what you are?”

  “A pirate, yes, but not lawless. I have my own laws.”

  “How convenient,” she said tartly. “And I suppose you change them daily to suit yourself.”

  His lips were suddenly twitching. “Not daily. Weekly, perhaps.”

  She stared at him for a moment. The quicksilver change from grimness to humor caught her off guard. “I do not understand you.”

  “Must you?”

  “Yes, I think so. If I’m to live with you, I must come to terms.” She moistened her lips. “You see, this is not what I … I’m confused. Because I hate Sebastian does not mean I hate God’s laws. They are good. And if they are good, then what you and Gavin do is bad. Is that not true?”

  “Quite true.”

  “And yet I like Gavin and find him … good. It is most perplexing.”

  He smiled sardonically. “I notice you’re not having any conflict regarding my humble self.”

  “There’s something about you that makes me uneasy.” That was not the right word for the dark tumult he aroused, but to use another would reveal more than she wished to show him. She frowned. “Besides, I don’t know you. I don’t think you want anyone to know you. Not even Gavin.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” She thought about it. “It may be for the same reason I closed myself off from Sebastian and Martha.”

  “Because they hurt you? I’m not afraid of Gavin hurting me, and I assure you the scamp is never uneasy around me.”

  “No, but there’s something.…” She remembered the touch of wistfulness in Gavin’s expression when he had spoken of Robert and their childhood together. “I think you make him … sad.”

  He looked away from her. “You’re mistaken.” They had reached the clearing where Gavin was kneeling building a fire. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me. He’s kind, but even to him I’m an outsider.”

  “You seem to have become overly attached to that word,” Robert said testily as he lifted her down from the mare. “Did it occur to you that I have little knowledge of you either?”

  “What is there to know?” she asked warily. “I’ve lived with Sebastian and Martha since I was a small child. Surely you can see how uneventful such a life would be. There were no adventures or sea travels for me.”

  “Sometimes you don’t have to travel afar to find adventure. What was it like, living with Sebastian?”

  Loneliness, desolation, fear, everything within her tightening, drying. She met his gaze. “What do you think it was like?”

  His lips tightened. “I can guess, but speculation is never fully satisfying.”

  She said haltingly, “I rose at dawn and helped Martha with the chores. Master Gywnth came at ten and gave me lessons.”

  “What kind of lessons?”

  “Mathematics, French, geography …” She made a vague gesture with a hand. “The lady … the queen wished me to have the education of a nobleman. That’s why she sent word to Sebastian to buy me a horse.”

  He cast a glance at Caird. “I’d wager she never saw this specimen.”

  “Of course not. She left everything to Sebastian.”

  “Did you study a musical instrument?”

  She shook her head. “Sebastian said music encouraged licentiousness.”

  “Aye, I’m sure it would have made you even more wicked than you are. What did you do after your lessons?”

  She frowned in bewilderment. These humdrum details could not be of interest to him. “I studied the Scriptures all afternoon with Sebastian when he wasn’t traveling the countryside visiting his parishioners.” She had a sudden memory of herself sitting on her stool by the window for many hours, trying desperately to keep upright because she knew the brutality of the punishment that would come if she showed a lack of attention. “When he wasn’t home, I was permitted to go for walks or ride Caird.”

  “Alone?”

  She nodded. “I told you that he didn’t like me to be with the villagers.”

  “Yes, you did.” She could sense an undercurrent of anger in his words. “How could I forget?” He started to turn away. “Sit down and rest.”

  “I can help.”

  “You could,” he bit out, “but you won’t. We’ll be traveling from dawn to dusk tomorrow, and I want you to be able to stand the pace.”

  “I’m strong. I’ll stand the pace.” She brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. “But I don’t see why I should be forced to do so. I see no reason for such speed.”

  “Don’t you?” He stared at her with an expression that compounded frustration, anger, and grudging respect before he turned on his heel and strode toward Gavin.

  She sat watching him as he helped Gavin set up camp. He moved swiftly, gracefully, swooping down on tasks, doing more than his share but not in an obvious way. He let Gavin do enough that he felt useful but not so much that he strained his dwindling strength, and kept him busy with casual conversation so that he was never aware of the disparity. She suddenly realized he had acted in the same fashion on the trail with Gavin. Though the pace had been hard, he had found ways of easing the wounded man’s path.

  We take care of our own.

  She was aware of an aching pang of envy and wistfulness. She was being foolish. These Highlanders and their codes had nothing to do with her. She could take care of herself and had no need of such camaraderie.

  It made no sense. She was so weary she could scarcely lift her head, and yet sleep evaded her. It must be the night sounds that were disturbing her. No, it was not the night sounds. She would not lie to herself. She knew why she could not sleep.

  She shifted in her blankets and slowly turned toward the warmth of the blaze.

  Robert was watching her from across the fire.

  She tensed, waiting for him to speak.

  He said nothing. He just lay there, his dark eyes alert and unwavering, fixed on her with the same expression they had held in the bedchamber this morning.

  Her breasts were lifting and falling as if she were running, and each time they brushed against the blankets covering her, her nipples became harder, more sensitive. The heat from the fire seemed to engulf her, scorching her flesh.

  The silence stretched on. She had to break it. “I … can’t sleep,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  Of course he knew. She had felt his gaze on her for the last hour.

  She closed her eyes.

  “It won’t do any good, you know. I tried it.”

  She kept her eyes closed tightly, shutting him out.

  “The storm,” he said.

  She opened her eyes again.

  “You asked what the hurry was.” He paused. “There’s a big storm coming. I want to be across
the border before it catches up with us.”

  He made no sense. The day had been bright and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. “The rains are past. How could you know there is to be more? There’s no storm coming,” she said firmly.

  “You’re wrong.” He turned his back to her and pulled his blanket around his shoulders. “It’s coming.”

  Gavin reined in on the rise, turned to Kate and pointed to the north. “That’s Angus’s land.”

  Fertile meadows rolled gently before them, and in the distance Kate could see a brick manor house and several outbuildings crowning a small hill. The manor was not splendid, but it appeared both substantial and in good repair.

  “It’s a fine property,” Kate said. “And brick is almost as strong a building material as stone.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Robert said mockingly as he turned to Gavin. “Did I forget to tell you how adamant my wife is on the subject of stone for her future domicile? May I ask why stone is such a passion with you, Kate?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Because it doesn’t burn.”

  “Well, it’s true it’s very difficult to burn.”

  “It’s almost impossible to burn. That’s why Sebastian had the new cottage built of stone.”

  “The new cottage?”

  She nodded. “The old one was built of sod with a thatched roof.”

  “And it burned down?”

  He was looking at her with a faint quizzical smile that contained an element of mockery. She had meant to evade the truth, but he appeared so sure, so confident, that it annoyed her, and she suddenly wanted to jar him. “No, I burnt it down.”

  Gavin’s lips fell open, but to her disappointment, Robert’s expression didn’t change. “How extraordinary. I do hope you don’t make it a common practice. Being without walls could get a bit drafty this time of year.”

  “It was an accident, Kate?” Gavin asked.

  “I did it on purpose. One night after he had punished me I lit the curtains with a candle.” She added fiercely, “He deserved it.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Robert said. “I’m just wondering how he and his sweet wife escaped the flames.”

  She scowled. “I had second thoughts. I went back in the cottage and woke them.”