Highland Song (20 page)

Josie stopped. "If he's still crying in a few minutes," Josie said firmly. "Usually his little tantrums go right away once he knows it's time for sleep. I don't want to indulge his every whim."

"I could sing him to sleep." Slade volunteered, reaching for his nephew before Josie could give him an answer.

Josie laughed and gave in to her handsome brother. "It's a good thing you're not around here very much. You spoil your nephew shamelessly."

Grinning broadly, Slade followed his sister into the bedroom. A few moments later, the gentle strains of a hymn floated out into the room, sung by Slade's fine baritone. Josie's clear soprano joined in a few moments later in flawless harmony.

Lainie's breath came in with surprise and pleasure.

"Had the same effect on me the first time I heard them," Stephan said with a smile on his face. "Always had a soft spot for that woman even when I didn't want to admit it."

"They sound like angels, but knowing Slade for the short time I have, I would have to call him a dark brooding angel."

Stephan laughed. "Something tells me you are probably right. I think Slade spent more time gambling and fighting than he did sitting in church singing hymns."

Lainie smiled, the voices claiming her attention. Music had always been a pleasure. Her brothers had always taken great delight in dancing to the sound of the musicians. She closed her eyes and imagined the joyful and sometimes playful sound of the musicians playing the same tune that Josie and Slade were singing.

Lainie left the room and went to her own in search of her recorder. She began playing. The music was far too familiar. Tears formed in her eyes while she remembered a happier time she could never return to. Automatically she took the counterpoint, letting the music from her recorder weave through the simple harmony created by brother and sister.

After a few minutes, the music claimed Lainie, making her forget where she was. The music from her simple recorder soared, skimming between the light of Josie's soprano and the deep shadow of Slade's baritone, enriching both like a rainbow stretched across the sky, bridging the distance between dark and light.

Lainie didn't realize what she had created until the harmony stopped abruptly, leaving her music alone. Her eyes snapped open.

She found herself being stared at by Stephan, Slade, and Josie who must have heard her and come into the room where she was playing. Color rushed to Lainie's face.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Don't be silly," Josie interrupted quickly. "You're music is beautiful. Where did you learn to play like that?"

"Everyone in my family played a different instrument. At night sometimes, we would all play together. Sometimes we would experiment." She shrugged. "None of us could sing."

"Do you know how to play that on the flute? Could you teach me?" Josie asked.

"No time," Slade cut in, waving his hand impatiently. "I don't want anyone in the family getting too attached to Lainie MacPherson. And we're leaving at first light tomorrow."

Josie flinched at the callousness in her brother's voice. "It hasn't escaped me that you're hesitant to involve Lainie in this family. I don't believe for an instant
Lainie
MacPherson is who you think she is. I don't think this fragile, young lady could ever have stolen anything even though she has admitted to that very thing."

The look Aaron shot his sister was meant to tell her not to pursue the topic. He'd said his piece and she should leave well enough alone.

"I'll ride with you to the crossing tomorrow," Stephan spoke into the cold silence that followed Aaron's rough words.

"I'd appreciate that," Slade said.

"I suspect Jericho might be closer than you would want to admit."

"Most likely."

"It leaves you with a back trail to cover and I can do that on my way back home."

Slade took the chair on the other side of Lainie and sat down.

Bracketed by the two men, Lainie felt frankly petite. As she was every bit of five feet, three and one-half inches tall, the feeling was unusual; most of the men she met were barely taller than she was.

Trying not to touch either of the pair of wide shoulders she was wedged between, Lainie reached for the cup of tea Josie had set on the table in front of her.

So did Slade. Their hands collided. Both jerked back with a muttered word--an apology in Lainie's case and a curse in Slade's.

Stephan looked away for a moment but couldn't get rid of the broad smile on his face. "Now," Stephan said, clearing his throat, "you say that the papers Lainie stole were forgeries. And that there were no secrets on them she could have passed on to the men she was riding with. So has a crime been committed?"

Lainie inhaled a deep, surprised breath, staring at each man in turn.

"You didn't tell your prisoner then?" Stephan asked. "That your documents weren't real?"

She reached for the cup of tea once more, hoping the slight tremor in her fingers didn't show. She didn't dare speak.

Her skin burned where Slade had touched her.

"I was well aware of her nimble fingers. I planted the evidence so I could catch her with the stolen papers. But she passed them off. I wanted my own proof before I took her to Bertram."

"Then you have no proof. Which means you have no prisoner," Stephan said.

"Bertram doesn't require proof. I did. He wanted Lainie MacPherson. There is a price on her head, and Bertram gave me the orders to bring her to Edinburgh. He won't sign my release papers until I do," Slade said in a carefully modulated voice. "I want to be done with the army, my time, my duty."

As she listened to Slade speak, she sipped the tea, watching him from over the top of the cup. She didn't mean to protest too rigorously in front of Stephan. She would save that fight for when they were once again on the road.

"But you don't care if the papers are signed by Bertram or the King, do you?" Stephan asked.

"That is beside the point. I was ordered to do a job and I've never failed," Slade said tightly.

"This job seems unjust to me."

"You're not aware of all the facts."

"And you are?" Stephan countered. "It seems you have a purpose of your own regardless of the truth."

Slade laughed. He and Stephan had never seen eye to eye on the subject of the army.

But now that he was wanting out, he was beginning to understand Stephan's feelings. He just didn't like it that Bertram held all the cards.

"It is not the English I despise. It is Bertram. He is a pig with no feelings." Lainie
said,
her voice hollow.

Slade gave Lainie a sideways glance that was just short of an accusation.

"That is nice to know," Stephan said, glancing between the Lainie and Slade.

Lainie gave a little snort then shook her head. The hasty knot she had made at the nape of her neck after giving the baby her scarf came loose. A long lock of her hair escaped and spilled across Slade's hand. The individual strands gleamed in the candle light like moonbeams from the evening sky.

And like moonbeams should feel, Lainie's hair was cool and silky against his skin.

"Sorry," she mumbled, hastily redoing the knot.

Slade said nothing at all. He didn't trust himself to speak. He knew his voice would reveal the sudden, swift pounding of his blood. He didn't want Stephan to see the raw hunger he was feeling and know Lainie had him wrapped around her little finger.

"Well, we can all agree about Bertram," Stephan said.

Once again, he looked intently between Lainie and Slade.

"If we are all right about him," he added after a minute, "you better pray there's another way to satisfy this matter between the three of you and even Lainie's family if they become involved which I believe they will."

"That's why I stopped here before going north. I knew you won't mind if I borrow a couple of good horses to use as packhorses."

"Take whatever you think you'll need," Stephan said. "And get Lainie a mount fit for riding into the highlands. Her pony won't make it."

"I was hoping you would volunteer that," Slade said.

Stephan nodded then said bluntly, "Horses are the least of your problems."

"The weather," Slade answered.

"That's one, but not the worst."

Lainie made a questioning sound.

"The worst problem," Stephan said, "is finding Lainie's brothers along the trail and having them taking issue with Slade calling you his prisoner and probably worse if they think Slade has compromised you. Or were the two of you expecting to see a sign from the MacPherson proclaiming, we don't care about our baby sister?"

"Hell no. I was expecting a fair and dancing bears to tell me why Bertram wants her bad enough he'd put her face on wanted posters and hang them all over the British Isle," Slade spoke softly, yet there was a hard edge to his voice.