Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(69)

Aulay hadn’t noticed Beaty at his side. He glanced over his shoulder—all of his crew was on their feet, watching him warily, as if they expected him to swim out to where his ship had gone down and stay with it after all.

“Break up the casks and crates as they come in, aye? Hide the boats. We’ll walk over the hills to Balhaire. Let there be no sign of where we came ashore. Whoever followed us was quite determined, and I’d no’ be surprised if they return to search for us now that the storm has cleared.”

The effort to hide the evidence of their survival was particularly grueling under a hot sun and with no proper tools. Nothing was salvageable—the salted beef was ruined and thrown into the sea. The bales of wool absorbed so much water they sank on their own.

Two of his men had managed to flee the sinking ship with long guns, and these they strapped on their shoulders in the event a Livingstone or two thought to run. All camaraderie between the two clans had been lost when the Mackenzies lost their ship and their livelihood. Yet in spite of their vigilance, two Livingstones managed to slip away. None of the Mackenzies had the patience to go after them, and no more of the Livingstones had the strength to run.

When the detritus from the ship had been cleared from the beach and hidden away, the group began their trek over the hills. Aulay guessed they were twenty miles from Balhaire, perhaps a little farther. They were exhausted and hungry, and because of a few injuries, progress was slow. Aulay noticed that Lottie was also limping, but she was walking, and declined Beaty’s offer of a staff. She kept up to the pace of the men, save for a stumble here or there.

He kept his distance from her. He could not bear to look at her just now. Over the last several days, he had come to admire her, to even love her. But he could not ignore the fact that his ship, his life, was now completely lost to him because of her. The truth beat a steady drum with the ache in his head, throbbing with each step he took. How could he have thought any different? How could he have bedded the enemy?

They had walked for hours when they came to a small stream where Aulay and his brothers once fished as lads. It was a place to rest and drink.

On the bank of the stream, Beaty removed his hat, wiped his sleeve across his brow, and glanced sidelong at Aulay. “Have you an idea, then, where we are, Captain?”

How odd that he was captain no more. He pointed at the hill rising up across the stream. “Balhaire is on the other side.”

“An deamhan thu ag ràdh,” Beaty said, and shook his head. “I’ve never known a man who had a sense of direction as keen as yours.” He bent down to drink, and Aulay wandered downstream a bit, to a rock that jutted into the stream. Beaty was right. As children, they’d explored the land around them, but even then, Aulay was the one they relied on to see them safely home. He always knew where he was because he always knew where the sea was.

He sat on the rock and tried to comb his hair with his fingers.

“Aulay.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed, then slowly turned his head to look at Lottie. She was utterly bedraggled and still, quite beautiful to him. It was that beauty that had sucked him in, had sent him into a tailspin that had ended with something that felt as close to death as he’d ever come. His heart began to beat with his outrage, and he turned his attention to the stream.

“I am so verra sorry, Aulay. For your loss. For everything. My heart is filled with so much regret.”

He said nothing. Bonny words from a bonny lass. He wished he could despise her, but that was impossible. He loved her, no matter the devastation she’d caused. But he hated her, too. He was so furious that he was blinded by it, couldn’t look at her without feeling his rage ratchet uncontrollably. He flinched when her hand touched his and he involuntarily yanked it away, and ignored the sharp intake of her breath at the slight, the slow release.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, her voice low. “Have I offended you? I meant only to convey my sincere gratitude. I think you are the best man I have ever known.” She smiled sheepishly.

He suddenly wondered why she would say that now? Was it her attempt to smooth things over with him? Because she cared for him? Or because she cared for her own wee neck? “Go,” he said, his voice belying the fury in his veins. “I donna want your damn flattery.”

“Aulay!” she exclaimed. “Will you no’ speak to me?”

“Speak to you?” he echoed, and made himself look at her. “Do you want me to speak to you, Lottie?” he asked, and the dam inside him broke. Raw fury, like so much sewage, began to spill through him. “Aye, I will speak to you,” he said, and rose to his feet, towering over her. “I will tell you that I utterly rue the day I changed course to help you. You have ruined me,” he said, thumping his chest. “Have you no’ taken enough from me? Have you no’ done enough damage to my men and yours?” His voice was rising, and he was quite unable to stop himself from shouting. His thoughts were roiling, and he felt almost outside of himself, as if the demon of his wrath had inhabited his body. Everything he had ever been, ever would be had been destroyed by her.

“Would you now have me soothe your tender feelings and tell you that it’s all quite all right, that as long as you have your way it doesna matter that I and my men have lost our livelihood? That these men canna feed their families now? That your men canna pay their rents? Do you want me to find words that magically change the truth?”