Highlander's Ransom (27 page)

Just then she made out Robert on top of her attacker
on the floor of the stable. He had his large, strong hands wrapped around the
other man’s neck and was squeezing mercilessly despite the man’s flailing. The
man on his back began to gurgle, and his thrashing slowed, growing weaker. She
could see the contours of Robert’s powerful arms in the moonlight, his muscles
flexed and exposed past the rolled-up sleeves of his plain white shirt. He
squeezed even harder, and the man beneath him finally went limp, but Robert
kept his grip locked on his throat for what seemed like ages, his jaw clenched
and his eyes like she had never seen them—filled with pure rage, burning blue
fire at his enemy.

Suddenly the stable door flew open again, and the
stable was flooded with light. Alwin blinked and threw up a hand to shield her
eyes. Through her squint, she saw Burke, a lantern in one hand and his sword in
the other. Behind him, she could make out at least a dozen more soldiers
outside in the yard. Taking in the scene, Burke cursed. He thrust the lantern
at one of the men behind him and darted to Robert’s side, but turned in a slow
circle, both hands on his sword, scanning the stable for potential threats.
When he saw no other attackers, Burke lowered his sword and put his hand on
Robert’s shoulder.

Blind with rage and still in the haze of battle,
Robert jerked up and took a swing at Burke. Burke barely managed to duck under
the powerful right hook flying at his head.

“Robert, it’s me! It’s Burke! All is well! It is
over!”

Robert stood panting, the haze beginning to lift as
his eye adjusted and he took in his friend in front of him. Before he seemed to
fully grasp where he was and what was happening around him, his eyes flew to
Alwin in the back of Dash’s stall.

A sob escaped her lips as she realized she was finally
safe. Before her wobbling knees could give way on her, Robert had pushed past
Dash, who still stood halfway in his stall, and rushed to her, slamming his
body into hers in an embrace.

“Are you alright, love? Please, God!” He raised a
shaky hand toward her right temple, and she realized that something warm and
sticky was matting her hair and running down her cheek into the collar of her
cloak.

She lifted her fingertips to her scalp and drew them
back with a sharp inhale of pain. Her fingertips were bright red with her own
blood. “I…I hit my head…” she said in a daze.

Before she could form any more words, he had scooped
her up and carried her into the middle of the stable. He unceremoniously sat
down in a pile of straw, still cradling her.

“Did he do this to you? Did he hurt you anywhere
else?”

She almost didn’t recognize his voice, it was so
strained and rough. She shook her head, then winced in pain. A deep throb was
spreading inside her skull to accompany the sharp pain of the bloodied area on
her scalp. “He tried, but he could only manage this,” she said, somehow
managing to raise a weak smile.

Robert’s face darkened, apparently not appreciating
her attempt at humor. She noticed that he, too, had injuries. A bruised looked
to be forming on one of his cheekbones, and a trickle of blood dripped from a
cut on his lip, but he didn’t seem to be aware of either. Burke interjected
before she could ask him if he was alright, though.

“Robert, what happened here?”

Robert reluctantly pulled his eyes from Alwin to scan
the room. His gaze fell on the motionless body of Alwin’s attacker. She
couldn’t suppress a gasp that rose to her lips at the sight of the dead man,
his eyes bulging from his skull and his tongue lolling from his slack jaw.

“The messenger!” The shock in Robert’s voice caused
Alwin to lean into him even further.

Burke strode to the body, then, recognition dawning,
exhaled sharply.

“He attacked me and said he would—he would kill me,”
Alwin choked out. “He said that Raef Warren had sent him.”

Burke and Robert exchanged a dark look, and Robert’s
arms tightened around Alwin protectively.

“A clever plan, and very like Warren,” Burke said,
keeping his eyes locked on Robert. “He likely never planned to go through with
the ransom exchange at all, and instead thought to…eliminate the source of any
further embarrassment for him. The missive he sent regarding Lady Alwin’s
ransom probably only served to create the opportunity for this attack.”

Robert’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t attempt to rise,
and held Alwin firmly on his lap. “We will discuss this further later, Burke,”
Robert said in a dark tone. Burke gave a nod, turning to the door. “George, you
and the others are in charge of making sure this vermin gets a burial suited to
one who would attack our Laird and Lady,” he said to the man holding the
lantern and the other soldiers crowded behind him. “One of the stable lads can
see to Dash. It looks only to be a scratch. I’ll send Stella to your chamber to
have her see to both of you,” he said over his shoulder to Robert and Alwin.

Without releasing her, Robert stood and followed Burke
into the yard, where several of the castle’s residents had crowded to see what
all the commotion was about. Taking a deep breath, Robert said loudly, “There
has been an attack tonight. The castle was infiltrated by an assassin posing as
a messenger. He was sent to kill your Lady.” The gasp of surprise from the
crowd quickly turned into a collective growl of anger. Tears stung Alwin’s
eyes. She couldn’t believe how these people had taken her in as one of their
own so quickly, and had already grown protective of her. They are following
their Laird’s example, a voice whispered inside her. He was still cradling her
to his chest as if she weighted nothing, warming and shielding her with his
powerful arms.

“The assassin failed, however, and is dead, due in no
small part to your Lady’s bravery,” he said in an unwavering voice. Those
gathered heartily rumbled their approval. Without waiting further, Robert
strode through the crowd, which parted respectfully for them, toward his
chamber.

The chamber door was already open and a swarm of
servants moved in and out by the time they arrived. Inside, Stella was shouting
orders and directing the hustling servants. When she caught sight of the two of
them entering, her brow settled into an even deeper frown.

“Bring her over to the bed, Laird. Gently now.”

Alwin’s head spun as Robert lowered her onto the bed,
worry clouding his eyes.

“I’m alright,” she said, trying to push up onto her
elbows. The room spun and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Get me water and a cloth. And get all these damned
poeple out of the way!” Robert barked at Stella.

Alwin heard the older woman tsk quietly, but then she
gave the orders, and soon, Alwin felt a cool damp cloth being pressed to her
temple, where the sharp pain seemed to radiate from.

“It looks worse than it is, Robert,” Burke’s voice
floated from somewhere nearby. “Head wounds always bleed a lot, but with rest
she should be fine.”

Robert didn’t reply, but the gentle pressure on her
temple vanished briefly, and she heard him exhale with relief, then return the
cloth to her head. She felt as if her limbs were sinking into the bed, heavy as
lead. She fought against the swimming darkness, but felt herself losing to its
swirling pull.

“It’s alright now, lass. You’re safe. And I’m never
letting you go again.” His husky whisper close to her ear was the last thing
she heard before the darkness pulled her under.

Chapter 40

For what must have been the millionth time, Robert
dragged his hand through his hair and turned to walk the six paces back across
his chamber. He had started pacing after Alwin had been asleep for eight hours.
First he had done it out of impatience for her to wake and prove to him that
she would be alright. Then, after about a day and a half, he had counted his
paces to occupy his mind and keep himself from going mad with worry. Now, he
paced because he felt completely useless and helpless in the face of her
continued slumber. If—no,
when
—she woke, he would be there at her side,
albeit bedraggled and exhausted. He had barely managed to swallow a few bites
of food that Stella had forced on him, which tasted like dust and did nothing
to relieve his anxiety. He had also caught a few intermittent winks of sleep in
a chair he had pulled up to the bedside where Alwin lay, pale but still
breathing steadily. He had reassured himself that such a blow wouldn’t kill
her, but as the days had stretched on, he began to fear that perhaps when she
did awaken, her mind wouldn’t be right. The village healer had been called away
a few days before Warren’s messenger had attacked to help deliver a child for a
peasant family living on the very edges of Sinclair land. Apparently there had
been complications, for she had still not returned. Stella, who had stepped in
for the healer many times before, stayed calm and level-headed as always, but
even her steadfast reassurances to Robert that all would be well had done
little to ease his mind, or still his feet from pacing.

Making the turn at the door, he began his six paces
back toward the bed. Glancing down, he cursed a few choice words in
frustration. A faint line from the door to the side of the bed was visible in
the finely woven rug, revealing the path that he had worn with his pacing. The
cost was nothing to him now, but Stella would likely chide him for the dozenth
time for his useless worrying. He must be strong, Stella had told him
repeatedly, for both Alwin and the clan. For some reason, though, Robert no
longer felt that he could be strong without Alwin.

“Does Father Frederick know you have such a foul
mouth?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Robert had flown to
the bed and fallen on his knees at its side. Before him, he saw what he had
longed for, dreamed of for these nightmarish four days. Alwin’s grey-blue eyes
fluttered open, locking on his. They looked just like the winter sky of the Highlands
after a storm. A small furrow appeared in her brow, and he took her hand.

“What is it, love? Are you in pain? Tell me what I can
do.”

“The light,” she said, her voice a bit scratchy from
disuse.

Instantly he was at the window, closing the shutters
then pulling the furs to block out as much light as possible. Then he resumed
his kneel beside the bed, his large hand engulfing her delicate one.

“How long was I…” A dry cough interrupted her, and he
reached for a cup of water on the table next to the bed. As gently as he could,
he lifted her head slightly and tipped the cup toward her lips. She took a few
tentative sips, then gulped greedily, draining the cup.

“Four days,” he replied as he refilled the cup and
offered her more. When she had drained it again, he lowered her back to the
bed, then asked tentatively, “Do you remember what happened?”

She creased her brow again, her eyes drifting around
the room. “I was going to the stables, then—” She inhaled sharply. “Then that
man attacked me. And Dash—Is Dash alright?”

Her concern for the animal made something ache inside
him. He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“Aye, lass, Dash is just fine. He’s practically healed already. If anything, he
is getting spoiled rotten. I have sent a stable lad to feed him extra oats and
an apple every day for protecting you.”

The corner of her mouth inched up as her eyes followed
his lips. “And then you were there, and you…killed that man.” She swallowed,
dropping her eyes.

Robert clenched his jaw. “Aye. He was an assassin sent
by Warren. He acted as a messenger to get into the castle, but apparently aimed
to kill you.” The reality of the man’s attempt, and Warren’s actions behind it,
had sunk in, but he feared the way she seemed horrified that he had killed
another with his bare hands. He wouldn’t apologize for it, though; he had done
worse in battle, and would tear anyone who threatened her limb from limb with
his teeth if he had to.

Seeming to read his mind, Alwin gave his hand a little
squeeze. “Robert, I hope you do not think that I judge you. That man meant to
violate me and slit my throat. I don’t know how to thank you.”

His eyes flew to hers, seeking confirmation of the
truth of her reassurance. Her large stormy eyes met his unflinchingly, her soft
gaze filled with something that made his heart clench.

“You don’t need to thank me. It is I who owe you. I
must beg your forgiveness for my…” He forced the words out past his shame. “For
my unconscionable treatment of you. I was a blind fool. I let my desire for
revenge cloud my judgment, and you had to pay the price for it. You were right,
Alwin. I see now that my clan needs me here, not off raiding and seeking
vengeance against Warren or the English. And I have wronged you by denying your
choice in all this. I have acted like a blockheaded barbarian, which I am sure
you think I am. I hope that perhaps with time you can someday come to trust me
again. I swear I will never let harm come to you again, and I will never be the
one to hurt you.”

He kept his eyes locked on her face as he spoke,
looking for some sign to tell him if he could ever hope to regain her trust—her
heart. She belied nothing, though, and a laden silence stretched between them.
Finally, she spoke, keeping her voice carefully flat.