Highlander's Ransom (17 page)

He took another gulp of ale. Perhaps it was time to change
his plan, he admitted reluctantly.

Just then, a hush fell over the crowd in the hall, and
he jerked his eyes once more to the bottom of the stairs. It was as if his
thoughts had just materialized. And magnified. There Alwin stood. She had
stopped at the bottom of the stairs, seeming unsure for a moment at the sight
of all those strangers staring at her with awe. But her back was straight and
her chin level, and she took a gliding step forward. She wore a fitted deep
blue gown that looked vaguely familiar to Robert, and her soft brown hair, pulled
back around her temples, flowed in loose waves down her back. A circlet of gold
sat atop her head, drawing out the golden strands in her tresses. She hadn’t
spotted him yet, so she must not know where she was going. He stood and cleared
his throat, drawing her eyes.

When her eyes met his from halfway across the hall, he
felt as if he had been punched in the chest. He realized that the gown drew out
the blue from her eyes, and her gaze pierced him. He felt like he was swimming
in their blue depths for a moment. Her eyes were only intensified by her dark
lashes and pale skin, scrubbed clean and glowing faintly pink at the moment. As
she recognized him, her full, rosy lips parted on a little gasp of surprise. He
could only guess what he must look like to her, clean-shaven, scrubbed, and
wearing clean clothes for the first time since they met. Though simply dressed
and a bit tumbled when he had first laid eyes on her, he had always known that
she was a true-born beauty, a lady of refined grace. But he never could have
imagined in his wildest dreams that she could be as perfect as she was now as
she walked toward him.

She continued to approach, seeming to completely
forget her foreign surroundings or the unknown Highlanders all around. Her wide
eyes stayed locked on his, and she glided toward him as if in a trance. When
she reached his side at the head table, he took her hand in his and bent over
it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Turning to his clanspeople, he said in a
loud voice, “My lady wife, Alwin Sinclair.”

The crowd roared their approval and raised their mugs
in a cheer to their Laird and Lady.

At Robert’s words, Alwin felt like she was awakening
from a dream. When she had spotted him from across the hall, she doubted for a
second that it was actually him. He wore a simple white shirt and his red kilt,
with a length of plaid over his shoulder, just as he had looked when she had
first laid eyes on him. But his hair was combed back from his face, and he had
shaved off more than a week’s worth of scruff, which made him look
more…handsome, she admitted. He looked a bit younger and definitely less
frightening, though she had watched as the muscles in his jaw twitched at the
sight of her. She thought at first that he was angry with her for some reason,
perhaps for causing everyone to wait on her arrival. But then she had seen his
eyes, which had burned into her like a pale blue fire. She saw unmistakable
desire in them, and she felt herself being drawn toward him, and the promise in
his eyes, like a moth to a flame.

But then with his words, reality came crashing back.
Alwin
Sinclair
, he had called her, and she supposed it was the truth.
She sat down heavily at his side, sinking into her worrying once again. What
could ever come of their union? After he had completed his plan to collect her
dowry and ransom money, what then? And what of her plan for an annulment? If
they continued on the way they had begun, first with their kisses at Father
Paul’s cottage and outside Mara’s farmhouse, and then up in his chamber, she
wouldn’t be able to get an annulment. She wouldn’t
want
one, a voice
whispered inside her head. But what could a life as Robert’s wife look like?
Would he be gone all the time on raids against her home country? Would she
never know if he were alive or dead? Would he actually want a union with her,
and not just a marriage in name, as she had secretly always longed for? Would
he give her freedom and love?

These last thoughts she pushed away harshly. She had
no business fantasizing about a marriage in which she was truly valued, given
freedom, and loved. All her life she knew she would be wed off to whomever her
father decided. She had let go of her girlish dreams of affection, kindness,
and trust in a marriage—hadn’t she? She realized now that she could never have
such a union with Raef Warren. Only a few minutes in his company had made that
clear. So why should she be fighting so hard to get away from Robert and back
to either Warren or her father, who would hand her over to Warren anyway?

She cast a sideways glance at Robert, who sat next to
her. He had his clean white shirt rolled up around his forearms. She was
becoming increasingly fascinated with his body. It was so different than hers.
Her hand rested on the table a few inches from his. His wrist was at least
twice the size of hers. His frame was tall and broad naturally, but his muscles
were battle-hewn. She had caught a glimpse of several scars on his torso when
he had been standing in the bathtub. But he was also more imposing and
commanding, with the presence of a true leader, than all other men she had ever
seen.

She realized then that it wasn’t just his body that
had been formed over years of training and fighting—it was also his
personality. He was hard, unyielding. He demanded respect and obedience from
everyone—his men, his clanspeople, and now her. But he wasn’t a tyrant. From
what she had seen, he led his people both with commanding authority and subtle
compassion. Even she had been swept up by the combination in him of strength
and tenderness. No, he probably would object to the word “tenderness” to
describe him, but what else should she call it when he gave her his plaid, or
when he warmed her with his body, or when he had held vigil with the widow
Mara. In her fantasies, she had always envisioned her dream husband as a
courtly English knight, well-versed in the arts of flowery words and romantic
gestures she had read about as a girl back in her father’s study. But here was
this hulking Highland warrior who lit the fires of desire within her, despite
his gruffness and even cold calculating side at times. She was drawn to him,
and she respected him, she realized.

Sensing her eyes on him, Robert turned to her and
pinned her with one of those penetrating looks. Thankfully, a servant placed a
plate of steaming food in front of them, breaking their gaze. She busied
herself by reaching for the mug of ale that was placed in front of her and
taking a gulp. Setting the mug back down, she scanned the crowd of people
before her. They were all happily talking and laughing, many seeming to be
fairly deep into their cups already. Luckily the servers were making their way
around the room offering food, and many people began finding a seat at one of
the several long tables that filled the great hall.

Robert’s fingers grazed her arm and she jumped at the
contact. He had cut some of the meat on their shared plate, and was holding a
forkful up for her to eat. She glanced between the fork and him, hesitant to
partake in this intimate ritual. But they were married, after all, so finally
she leaned forward and took the forkful of meat into her mouth. It appeared
that several other clanspeople had noticed the gesture as well, for a pleased
rumble of satisfaction rose in the air.

Alwin blushed and lowered her eyes, embarrassed at
having to carry on with these marriage rituals so publicly. Seeing her
embarrassment, Robert gave her some reprieve and turned to his left, where
Burke sat. The two men chatted for a while about household matters. It sounded
to Alwin’s ears like they were having some trouble keeping the castle ledgers
straight. Apparently, Stella and the head cook had different ways of recording
and keeping track of things, and it was creating problems. With Robert gone so
much, Alwin gathered, he hadn’t had time to sort it out yet.

She took another sip of ale and let herself return to
her own thoughts. She needed to talk with Robert about what his plan was. She
had wanted to ask him so many questions in the last few days of the journey,
but had been torn by her anger at his actions and her own nervousness over
arriving at Roslin. Resolved, she turned back to him and laid her hand on his
forearm. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and his muscles twitched at the
contact. He turned to her, questioning in his eyes, but also a hint of heat.

Leaning in, she spoke so that only he could hear. “Is
your plan the same, Robert? Will you ransom me and then collect my dowry?”

He raised a dark eyebrow at her bold question. “I sent
a missive to Warren this evening informing him that if he wishes to save his
reputation, he will pay for you.”

Her face fell at his words. It was too late, then, to
call off that portion of his plan. She hated the way he was using her, and that
he played into the fact that Warren apparently saw her as nothing but a matter
of pride without missing a beat.

“When will you get his answer?”

“A few weeks, or perhaps sooner, seeing as how this is
a fairly urgent and delicate matter for him,” he responded coldly.

“And what then? What happens after he pays you?”

“Then I will contact your father informing him of our
nuptials and demanding what is my due.”

She felt herself growing angry with him once more.
“That was not what I meant. What will happen to me—to us—after you have
completed your scheme?”

She saw a shadow cross over his eyes for a moment,
then the cold, calculating look returned. “That is not your concern just yet,
lass.”

She wanted to scream at him, but pressed her lips
together and tried to cool her nerves. She decided a different tack. “Do you plan
to tell your clan how we came to be married?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll tell them the
truth, but perhaps not all of it.”

As if on cue, a large, stout clansman stood, swaying a
bit on his feet. He raised his mug to the high table where Alwin, Robert, and
Burke sat, and bellowed, “Pray tell, my Laird, how you met and married this gem
of an Englishwoman! Surely there was some trickery involved for you to secure
such a beautiful lass!”

Several in the hall chuckled and responded with ribald
calls of their own. Robert glanced over at Alwin and noticed that the color had
drained from her face and she had lowered her head in shock and embarrassment.
Robert cleared his throat. “Well, Rufus, your whiskey seems to have made you
see clearer for once. I first saw Lady Alwin in the borderlands, and I knew
then that I had to have her.” At his words, Alwin’s eyes shot from her lap to
his face. He was being careful with his words, but told the truth in a way, she
supposed. Yes, he had to have her—for the money she would bring. But he
continued, shocking her even further. “And you’re right, Rufus. She
is
beautiful, and I’m sure I don’t deserve her.”

All in the hall laughed and cheered at that, and
several hands dragged Rufus back down to his bench. Alwin couldn’t stand
another minute of this humiliation. She had gone along with the celebration of
their farcical marriage, not wanting to set the clan against her right from the
start. Secretly, she admitted to herself now, she had also longed to see Robert
again. She didn’t know what he stirred in her, but she yearned to explore it
further with him. She had endured the wedding rituals of sharing a plate and
eating what he cut for her in front of the whole clan. And then she had had to
sit there while some drunken clansman prodded into the disastrous events that
had brought her here. But to listen to Robert compliment her, to hear what she
thought was sincerity in his voice even when just moments before he had coolly
reiterated his plan to use her, was too much. She stood, feeling her cheeks
burning and her eyes brimming with tears, and rushed toward the stairs that
lead back to the privacy of the chamber.
His
chamber, she reminded
herself, only deepening her humiliation. She ignored the quieting of those
gathered in the hall, and the eyes following her. She dashed up the flight of
stairs, but only made it halfway.

Chapter 25

Robert’s strong hands wrapped around her waist and
spun her around. She gasped but kept her eyes down, not wanting him to see the
tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Lass…” he began, but seemed to falter. Instead of
speaking, he gripped her chin and raised it. She was a few steps above him, so
their eyes were level. She forced herself to meet his stare, not wanting to be
the coward she was acting at present. She didn’t guard herself, but let him see
the hurt, confusion, and embarrassment she felt. She thought she saw him
flinch, but couldn’t be sure.

“You should rejoin your people,” she said, her voice
thick.

“Alwin, I know this is difficult for you. If it could
be any other way…”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, and don’t make
promises you can’t keep,” she choked out.

“I didn’t lie in the hall,” he said heatedly. She knew
he wasn’t just defending his honor and veracity. Based on the intensity in his
eyes, he was referring to his declaration about her beauty and how he didn’t
deserve her.

“But what of my future, my life? What will come of
this ruse?” she demanded.

She saw that he struggled, his brow knitted and his
eyes stormy. One of his hands was still firmly around her waist, and the other
held her chin. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she could see which side of
him had won his internal battle a moment before his mouth closed on hers.