Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(25)

Of all the things he might have said in that moment, his question caught her off guard. She looked away, realizing that it bothered her to have to admit that no one had.

She heard him mutter in Gaelic and looked back toward him. “Just because I didn’t kiss you back doesn’t mean—”

“It is no’ a shame,” Rolfe informed her softly. “At least no’ yers. It’s mine to admit that I let me temper get the best of me. For that, ye have me apology.”

He straightened up, reaching back down to offer her a hand. She was crouched in the corner, watching him warily, when her senses cleared enough for her to realize she must look like a trapped fox.

She didn’t take his hand but rose under her own power. He nodded slowly, admiration in his eyes that granted her some measure of poise. Was it for the way she failed to cry? She wasn’t sure. But she did know she wouldn’t be showing him any sort of weakness.

There was a pounding of feet. Rolfe looked out into the stable and whistled. “I have her, lads.”

She was grateful he was looking away during that moment of crushing defeat. She clamped her jaw tight as she felt her fingernails digging into the wall behind her. The impulse to turn and break it down was strong but senseless.

So she set her shoulders and faced the men who skidded to a halt in front of the stall. They took her in, shock registering on their faces at the sight of her.

Which pleased her at last because she knew she’d given them hell.

And she planned to do it again.

*

Helen was wringing her hands. She didn’t question Marcus when he came in because she knew his body. He was stiff from long hours in the saddle. Dirt was caked onto his skin, and his boots were covered in mud. His horse eagerly took off toward the stable and a warm stall.

Bhaic stood on the top steps, waiting for his brother to reach him.

“The Gordons had her, planned to burn her as a witch.”

Helen sucked in her breath, as did Ailis. Marcus cut her a quick glance. “Somehow, she managed to escape. Rumor is there were McTavishes in the Gordon stronghold as well, but I’ve no solid proof of it.”

“Rolfe McTavish?” Helen asked in a ghost of a whisper.

Her husband nodded.

“I pray so.” Ailis spoke up, gaining the attention of her husband and brother by marriage. “They’ll just want ransom again.”

“We can nae be certain of that,” Bhaic informed his wife.

“It’s better than the Gordons,” Helen offered, but she knew her husband. He took the welfare of all MacPhersons personally.

He trudged toward the bathhouse, and Helen followed. He shed his clothing as she readied a tub for him.

“I failed her,” he said at last.

“We share the blame.” Helen rubbed a lump of soap across his back. “I should have argued with ye when ye allowed her to train.”

Marcus grunted. “The good Father Matthew should have said something about that.”

“I’d like to have heard it.” She worked the soap into his hair. “Let me see, it is a sin for the wife to argue with her lord and husband…and yet it is a sin to allow a young girl to run wild like a lad.”

“Aye,” Marcus agreed. “It would have been a very interesting conversation.”

One they would never have. He sighed. “We’ll have to wait, to see what news comes.”

*

He’d taught his son not to lie.

Just as a father should.

William McTavish watched Rolfe tug on his bonnet and leave his study.

“Are ye sure ye need to send the lad out?”

It was his senior captain Boyd who asked the question.

“Ye saw her.” William reached for his mug and downed what was left in it. “Hay stuck to her skirts and hair.”

“She was trying to escape. To tell the truth, I can nae recall when I saw such determination in a lass before. Stuffing the bedding into those clothes and sending them out of the window was a fine idea, sure enough. Fooled the men into thinking she’d gone out that way, and all the while, she was just waiting on them to leave the door open for her… Clever.”

William snorted. “I still remember what a woman looks like when she’s been kissed.” He pointed at Boyd. “That lass looked startled down to her garters. Which means she’s a maiden, and Rolfe is… Well…he’s…”

“A man to be proud of,” Boyd offered.

“Aye.”

“An honorable man,” Boyd continued.

“Which is why I’ve sent him off to the Robertsons,” William replied. “I’ll no’ have him near that wench. If she was nae worth something, I’d turn her out and let her make her own way back to MacPherson land. But know this, I will not have me son wed to an English chit.”

Boyd nodded. “It would nae be good, unless she brought a dowry worth overlooking her English blood.”

“There are things more valuable than coin.”

Boyd lifted an eyebrow at his laird’s words. William looked around first, making sure no one was inside his study. “The Earl of Morton stole that girl to use in an alliance with England. She’s a woman now, ripe for marriage. I sent a letter to him to see if he will ennoble me line in exchange for her.”

“The man might just insist ye have Rolfe wed her,” Boyd cautioned.