The Magnificent Rogue (12 page)

“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.”

“Bad judgment,” Gavin murmured.

“I had reached only my tenth year,” she said in her defense. “I was angry, and I knew they deserved it, but I couldn’t let them die. It would have been a sin, and I would have been like my mother.” She added defiantly, “But I’m not sorry I did it. I’d do it again.”

Robert smiled. “I believe I’m beginning to realize why Sebastian found you so ‘unsettling.’ ”

“It’s easy to condemn me now. You weren’t
there
.”

“We’re not blaming you, Kate,” Gavin soothed gently. “Except for your lack of foresight.”

“You’re hardly the one to talk,” Robert said. “I remember how squeamish you were at your first blooding.”

“But I’m sure you weren’t squeamish at yours,” Kate challenged.

“Death is never pleasant, nor is it to be taken lightly.” His lips tightened grimly. “But some people deserve to die. I’ve been wondering what punishment Sebastian invoked on a child of ten to push you to those lengths.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t consider the punishment deserving of such an action on my part.”

“No? Why don’t you tell me and let me judge?”

“I don’t like to be judged any more than you do,” she said.

“And you don’t like to talk about your ‘uneventful’ life with Sebastian. What did you do to deserve punishment?”

She tried to shrug carelessly. “He caught me looking in Master Brelam’s window one evening.”

“Master Brelam?”

“He was the baker. His cottage was on the outskirts of the village.”

“And why were you peering into his window?”

“Why do you think? Because I liked to do it.” She bit her lower lip before bursting out, “It was a long time ago. None of it matters now. Why are you asking me these questions?”

“I have a curious nature.”

Gavin said with a frown, “She’s right. It’s none of our concern, Robert.”

“Perhaps not.” Robert smiled sardonically. “But I want to know. If she didn’t want to answer questions, she shouldn’t have told us about burning down the house. What was so fascinating about this baker’s cottage?”

“Nothing.” She saw him lift his brows and said, “They were … they laughed a lot. It was pleasant to see them. He was a young man, and his wife was scarcely older than I am now. I’d go to the cottage at supper-time and watch them prepare their meal. They had a little boy who crawled around the kitchen, getting in their way.…” She shouldn’t have mentioned that night. Over the years she had tried to block out the desperate hunger that had driven the child she had been to that window. Yet now the memory came back to her as if it had been yesterday. The cheerfully blazing fire in the hearth, the young man with fine, straight hair and a broad smile, and his wife who looked at him with confidence, not fear. “I’d never seen … I didn’t know it could be like that. I didn’t do any harm. I just wanted to see them.”

“And what did Sebastian do when he caught you?”

“He dragged me into the house and made me apologize to them and admit my sin.” She swallowed. “I was so ashamed.”

“What sin?”

“Avarice. He said I lusted after what they had.”

“And did you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She had wanted to drink in the love, the trust, and that wondrous lack of fear. She had wanted to fill herself with it, secrete it away to comfort her in Sebastian’s cold, barren house. “I couldn’t stop crying. They were very kind. They told Sebastian that it was natural for children to be curious. He wouldn’t listen to them. He knew me. He knew why I was there.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “He took me back to his cottage and beat me until I couldn’t stand, and all the while he did it, he told me over and over that what I’d seen in that house would never be for me. I’d never have a home or people who would care for me. I wasn’t worthy. I must reject all thoughts of such a life and resign myself to the knowledge that my destiny would always be with him.”

“Christ,” Gavin uttered.

Robert said nothing, staring impassively at her.

The impulse that had led her to confide in him had been a mistake. The memory of that hideous night was terribly hurtful, and she already felt too vulnerable and exposed when she was with him. She looked away from him and said, “We stayed at the inn until Sebastian received a sum from the lady to rebuild the cottage. It was while we were there I got to know Carolyn.”

“And then he built in stone,” Robert said. “Did he suspect you did it deliberately?”

“I told him I did it.”

“Another mistake. I imagine your punishment was even more severe.”

“That didn’t matter,” she whispered. “For the first time I didn’t feel helpless. I had
done
something.”

“You certainly did,” Robert said dryly. His gaze went to the manor house in the distance. “Let’s hope Angus doesn’t raise your ire.”

“You know it’s not the same,” she said. “I would never do anything like that to any but an enemy.”