Highlander's Ransom (30 page)

Gripping her hips, he increased their pace and pulled
her harder down onto him so that he was insider her to the hilt. Her breath
hitched at the sudden shift, and he could feel her start to tighten and spasm.
That was the last straw. He exploded into a thousand pieces of pure light and
ecstasy, bellowing his pleasure as he thrust once more into her. His voice
mingled with hers as she too found her release and cried out her pleasure. They
both hovered in bliss for several more moments, rocking together as they
drifted back down. Spent, she slumped over him, and he turned slightly so that
he could wrap an arm around her as she draped herself across his chest.

“Do you feel differently about making love in daylight
hours now?”

She gave a breathy chuckle.

“I could get used to this.”

His chest rumbled with his own laughter. “I’ll make
sure that you do.”

Epilogue

June,
1307

Alwin twisted her arm behind her and tugged on the
laces of her dress for what seemed like the hundredth time just since this
morning. She would have to ask Stella to help her loosen them a few more
inches. She knew she was being silly, but she didn’t want to ask the castle
weavers to make her a new dress for her changing figure just yet. Part of her
liked the way her dresses hugged her new curves—one new curve in particular.

A smile crept to her lips just at the thought of it:
Robert’s babe growing inside her. She was not only the Lady of the Sinclair
clan and the mistress of Roslin castle, but she was going to be the mother of
the next Sinclair heir. And she and Robert would raise their son or daughter to
know love, acceptance, and happiness. She would give her child the joyful
childhood she never had, and she knew that Robert would be a devoted and loving
father. He was already mooning over her like she was made of the finest glass
from Murano—both treasured and fragile. She wasn’t allowing him to be
too
delicate with her, though. The memory of their bed-rattling lovemaking earlier
that morning sent a tingling thrill through her blood.

She practically sailed from their chamber through the
great hall and the yard, nearly skipping to the northeast tower and up the
stairs to the solar. Humming to herself, she threw open the solar door, only to
halt dead in her tracks, the tune dying on her lips.

Three huge warriors turned to stare at her. One of
them was her husband, but he looked fiercer than normal, his face shrouded in a
scowl and his eyes intense. Burke, standing next to him, was transformed as
well. Normally gallant and chivalrous in Alwin’s presence, he looked more like
a battle-hardened warrior at the moment. Unlike Robert, who wore the same plain
white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and clan kilt that he always donned
around the castle, Burke had on a leather vest studded with metal, and a huge
sword was strapped to his back. He, too, bore a look of strained concentration.

If the appearance of Burke and her husband had
startled her, the third man in the solar downright made her knees knock. He was
just as tall and broadly muscled as Robert, which few men were. Like Burke, he
wore an armored leather vest over a linen shirt, but both the shirt and his
Sinclair-colored kilt were soiled with dirt, grime, and—was that blood? He,
too, had a large sword strapped to him, but it was on his hip, for across his
back was slung a bow and quiver full of arrows. His hair, dark brown rather
than black like Robert’s, was pulled back and tied at the nape of his muscular
neck, and his hard jawline was covered in at least a week’s worth of stubble.
When her eyes met his, she nearly took a step backward before she reminded
herself that she was the lady of this keep. Their steely grey cut her like a
knife. He was strikingly similar to Robert in appearance, but a far dirtier,
deadlier, and meaner version, based on the glare he was shooting at her.

“Look at my wife that way much longer, brother, and
you may find yourself a few teeth shorter than when you arrived,” Robert said,
clearly taking notice.

“Brother?” Alwin had looked forward to meeting
Robert’s siblings, but hadn’t anticipated it to be quite so terrifying.

Before Robert could explain, his brother strode toward
her with the deadly grace of a true warrior. She had to resist the urge for a
second time to back up, feeling as though just being near so hardened a killer
would be dangerous. He surprised her, though, when he halted and gave her a
sweeping bow.

“Lady Alwin. My brother has bent my ear with tales of
your grace and beauty, but clearly his words fail to capture reality.”

Too stunned to reply for a moment, Alwin remembered
herself in time to drop a quick curtsy to her new brother-in-law.

“You are too kind…?”

“Garrick, my lady. The middle one.”

“Ah yes,” Alwin brightened, “the warrior archer.”

Garrick raised a dark eyebrow at her, but Robert only
chuckled. “You forgot to convey how fearless your new bride is, Robert,”
Garrick said over his shoulder dryly.

Alwin looked between the two men. Through his smile,
Robert said, “We always teased Garrick about his Norse name and his insistence
to live up to it. Don’t mind him, love, he looks rougher than he is.”

“Perhaps we should test that theory on the practice
yard,
older
brother,” Garrick said with a dangerous smile.

Alwin’s eyes widened at Garrick’s barely-masked
challenge and insult, but Robert roared with laughter and clapped his brother
on the back.

“Aye, it’s good to have you home, brother!” Burke and
Garrick were smiling too, so Alwin breathed easy. Perhaps this was how siblings
treated each other. Or men anyway.

When Robert’s rumbling laugher had died down, the
three men’s faces sobered.

“We should continue our conversation, but perhaps more
privately,” Garrick said softly, and Alwin knew he was referring to her intrusion.
Before she could excuse herself, though, Robert interjected.

“Nay, Alwin can stay. This involves her too, and she
should have a say.” Burke and Garrick both looks uneasy, but Robert’s
authoritative voice brokered no argument. For her part, she wasn’t sure based
on the atmosphere in the room when she had entered that she wanted to become
involved in whatever they were discussing, but she was touched that Robert
wanted her to have a voice. He loved her decisiveness, her stubbornness, and
her willingness to form and share her opinions, not only about how the
household should be run, but also regarding the increased activity by the
English in the Lowlands, and the rumors of Robert the Bruce’s plan to make a
move against them. He listened to her, respected her views—it was better than
the girlish fairytales she thought she could never have. Theirs was a true
partnership.

“As you wish, Robert, but it doesn’t seem right to
upset a woman in her…condition,” Garrick said with a glance at her middle.

Now it was Alwin’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him.
“For your information, sir, I am not made of glass. I am quite capable of
carrying on a conversation, I assure you.”

Her words came out tarter than she had intended, but
to her surprise, Garrick cracked a half-smile and nodded in acquiescence.

“Nevertheless, why don’t you take a seat, love. We
discuss warfare,” Robert said gently.

Alwin walked around to the other side of the desk that
the three men had been leaning over and plopped down in the chair, only mildly defeated
by Robert’s overprotectiveness.

Robert cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we can’t
know for sure where Hewett’s allegiance lies, or if he has funded Warren’s
cause with Alwin’s dowry money.”

Though prepared to discuss the complex intricacies of
politics and the threat of war looming over them all, Alwin had not been ready
for such a direct statement about her father. She sat upright, suddenly alert.

“About a month ago I sent him a missive letting him
know that our bairn was on the way, partly out of courtesy, since I didn’t
exactly ask his permission before our marriage. But I was also curious to see
if he would reveal anything about a lingering alliance between him and Warren,”
Robert continued to Garrick, who nodded, grim-faced.

“I haven’t received word back, but that doesn’t tell
us much. Perhaps he is too ashamed to acknowledge that he’ll have a Scottish
barbarian for a grandchild and has simply cut Alwin from his life.” Alwin
cringed slightly at his words, because they were all too likely. She had tried
not to get her hopes up that her father might respond to the missive about
their child, but some part of her still hoped that he would set aside his greed
and embrace his only daughter. As the days and then weeks stretched, she had
slowly given up that small hope.

“It is also possible that he wants nothing to do with
Warren now that their marriage arrangement has fallen apart. But we can’t
discount the chance that he has aligned with Warren to promote and fund another
war effort. Hewett would be a wealthy and strategic if not militarily powerful
ally for the English cause. We simply can’t know where he stands without
gathering more intelligence.” Robert dragged a hand through his hair in
frustration. Alwin knew that part of him wanted to be out there on the front
lines, but that he didn’t want to risk leaving his clan—and his wife and
child—unprotected and leaderless.

“And we still don’t know what Warren plans,” Burke
said grimly. “We have heard word that he has blathered to anyone who will
listen that his wife was stolen by a Highland barbarian, and that his
messenger, who was sent to negotiate a ransom, was murdered in cold blood.”

“With King Robert’s defeat of the English forces at
Loudoun Hill last month, there seems to be more talk of all-out war from
everyone except Longshanks, who is rumored to be ill,” Garrick added. “It
wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Warren was trying to drum up more
conflict, especially if Edward is on his way out. A shakeup at court could mean
more room for Warren to make an even greater name for himself and expand his
power.”

“And where does Robert the Bruce stand in all of this?
Does he court war as well? If so, it will be hard on our people,” Alwin said.

Garrick gave her a steely stare, and Robert, seeing
it, spoke quietly to him. “It’s alright, brother. She is with us.”

Garrick grunted and finally broke his hard gaze at
her. “Aye, brother. It’s just not every day that I hear concern about ‘our’
cause and people from an English mouth.”

“The English accent grows on you,” Robert replied,
eyes twinkling.

“Are you sure you’re not just growing soft, brother?”

For a second time, Robert didn’t take the bait, only
shot a smile at Alwin. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand,” he said to Garrick,
then gave Alwin a wink.

“If you lovesick bairns are quite through,” Garrick
said dryly, “I can speak to King Robert’s perspective. He knows a head-to-head
confrontation with the English would be suicide for the Scots. They outnumber us,
but their disadvantage comes in the form of a war of attrition. The English
fight stiffly, in rows and with full armor. Because there are so many of them,
they move slowly, and they don’t know this landscape very well. If they launch
a full-scale war against us, we will let them come, but they will be met with
constant harassment, stealth assaults, skimming of their supplies, and surprise
attacks when they’re least ready. The Bruce knows this will be hard on the
people, as all war is, but he believes that by refusing to meet the English on
their terms, we can harrow them into retreat and show them whose country this
is.”

“And you agree with the Bruce?” Robert asked, all
playfulness gone.

“Aye. I would be at his side now as he plans his next
move if he hadn’t granted your request for me to return to Roslin.”

This was news to Alwin. “Why did you send for him,
Robert?”

“Because now that I have resumed my responsibilities
to the clan here, I need someone I can trust to carry on my work in the
borderlands, and I trust no one more that Burke and Garrick,” he replied,
exchanging heavy looks with each man.

Garrick tensed despite the compliment. “As I told you
before, I work alone. I don’t want your man getting in my way and—”

“And I won’t leave your side, Robert. You need me here
as an extra set of eyes and ears, especially now that you are
more…preoccupied.” Burke said the last word carefully, but everyone in the room
knew that Robert had been more distracted with Alwin carrying their child.

“Enough.” Robert’s stern and authoritative tone
reminded Alwin that he was a Laird, and had been raised to be so since he was
born. “This is only for one mission. King Robert only agreed for you to be out
of his service for a few months. He only granted my request because I have
fought against Longshanks for so many years. He also likely understands well
that this mission will help his cause. In addition to gathering whatever
information you can, you are to do anything you can to interfere with England’s
building war effort.” He gave them each another hard look. “Including pursuing
and dispatching of Warren.”

Alwin stifled a gasp behind her hand. Of course, it
came as no surprise to her that Robert would want Warren killed once and for
all. She knew how much he longed to be the one to finally put an end to his
scheming, and get vengeance for all that the power-hungry Englishman had
inflicted on his land and his people. What surprised her was that he was
apparently giving over his desire for revenge.