Sarah Gabriel (13 page)

She carried the baby to the bed and sat, pushing pillows behind her so that she could lean against the wall and hold the baby in her lap. Then she did her best to appease him as he wailed. She cooed, smiled, spoke softly, and was rewarded with further fretting, while the baby wiggled in its swaddling.

Fraser had pointed out that a male child might succumb to her charm. She was feeling desperate enough now to wish it were so. But her fairy charm did not seem to affect this unhappy fellow any more than Fraser. She could not charm either of them.

“Perhaps the captain is your father,” she muttered. The baby cranked out another quavering wail. “No? Good. I did not really want him to be your da.”

She got to her feet with the child in her arms and paced the room, swaying as she walked, murmuring and patting him. Eventually he grew quiet, his limbs relaxing as he settled his head against her shoulder.

“Soft you, soft you,” she sang in a gentle voice, re
membering a lullaby her nurse had sung years ago, when Kate, Sophie, and Robert had been very small, and the world had held no threats for them. “Smooth you, soft you, how well I love you….”

The baby’s head drooped on her shoulder, and he found his fingers and sucked noisily. Continuing to sing, Kate sat down again and held him, watching his eyes drift closed as he listened to her singsong lullaby. When his breaths lengthened out, she smiled to herself.

With a sense of surprise, she realized she had charmed this small male creature all on her own, without any fairy gift, without the fairy crystal. She had offered comfort, compassion, and a little love, and he had responded sweetly.

However small, the accomplishment pleased her, and she smiled to herself, holding the child close.

H
er voice was like whiskey and honey, smooth and sweet, with an earthiness that sent a sensual shudder through him. Alec leaned his brow against the door and listened, eyes closed, while she sang, soft and low.

More than lust coursed through him—a deep longing, too, so that his heart pounded.

Below, he heard the soldiers talking to each other as they finished their ale and another game of cards. Fortunately, the corporal had been satisfied with the tale of Katie Hell’s escape from the carriage, and no one had thought to question the identity or presence of the young woman with the baby.

After Kate had left the room, Alec had shared a
round of drinks with the soldiers, served by Jean, who sent Alec nervous glances to communicate her concern about her child. The soldiers kept her busy with requests for ale and food, though she served them only bread and cheese at the late hour. When the child’s shrieks had quieted, Jean had relaxed, going on with her work.

Alec had taken his leave of the soldiers’ company as soon as possible, claiming fatigue after a long evening supposedly spent chasing Kate over the hills.

But as he headed upstairs, he heard the corporal ask Jean about hiring out a room for the men to share that night, remarking that there was no more searching to be done in the black of night, with more rain threatening.

Now he stood by the door, eyes closed, until the song ended. He knocked softly, eased the door open, stepped inside.

Kate swayed gently by the window, the infant cuddled in her arms. No harlot, no wildcat hellion, just a lovely young woman soothing a child. He thought of a Madonna by some Flemish painter of long ago: a delicate woman with gray eyes and golden hair, and tender, graceful hands.

Then she turned, sending a shiver through him with a quick, unguarded smile. Alec nodded silently, loath to disturb the infant, and he closed the door silently. He could not help but remember Amy, with her sweet face and dark hair, her serene smile. She had married his brother Edward while Alec had been attending school in Leiden. He had returned to find her nearly a mother. The last time he had seen Amy, she had been holding a
small child in her arms, another clutching her hand, the third rounding her belly.

Her welcome had been warm, but uncertain, her abiding affection implicit in her brown eyes. Could they not be friends as before, her eyes had asked silently, could they not forget the hurt and resentment that had come between them.

But he had never answered her unspoken question. She had gone to childbed a month later, slipping away after birthing a scrap of a girl who had fought to be born. By days and degrees, Alec’s heart had seemed to form a shell. The hurt was a little easier to carry that way.

Now another beautiful Madonna stirred his emotions, golden and fiery rather than dark and quiet. He looked at her silently, his torn heart in need of mending, and no one aware of it but he.

When Kate smiled at him, he sensed compassion and caring in her lovely eyes. He came toward her, entranced, drawn.

“Where is Jean? I hoped she would come fetch him soon.”

“Still serving tables.” He removed his coat, flung it on the bed, and sat, mattress groaning beneath him. When he leaned backward, the headboard whacked against the wall.

“Hush!” Kate patted the child as it whimpered. “Please don’t wake him. It took me so long to get him to sleep. I’m not very good at mothering.”

“You’re doing well enough.”

“He’ll be hungry soon, and he needs new cloths.” She wrinkled her nose.

“A natural hazard with babes. Have you no wee kinfolk?”

“Not close. Many of my kinfolk went to France years ago.”

“Jacobites? Did they leave after the ’Nineteen, or earlier?”

“After the ’Nineteen. Most of us left then, with my father. My sister returned earlier this year, and she’s already wed and expecting a child by year’s end. Now I will have a little experience to lend her. An hour’s worth, at least.” She smiled, tucked her head against the baby’s head.

His heart melted, but he only lifted his eyebrows. “A sister? And what would her name be?”

“Would I tell you?” She laughed, rubbing the infant’s back, pacing. “And you? Do you have wee kinfolk?”

“Two nephews—my older sister’s sons—and three small nieces…the daughters of my late brother.”

“Then you have ample experience with children,” she said, coming closer as she held the baby in her arms.

“Not a whit. I avoid them like a plague, haven’t visited for months—
oof
!” Alec opened his hands as Kate deposited the infant in his arms. “What the devil—”

“Do not swear. He listens carefully, so watch what you say.”

“He’s two months old,” Alec pointed out. “He doesn’t understand the language yet. Blast,” he said, feeling the bundled behind resting in his hand. “It’s wet.”

“I’ve no extra clothes. What do you have in that satchel, besides chains?” She went over to his canvas bag. “Clean shirts?”

“One washed by your own hand, or so you claimed at the time. But that’s good Flemish lawn,” he protested, as she rummaged in the bag and pulled out the shirt.

“It can be cleaned,” she told him, shaking it out.

“The hell it can, a baby could turn that stuff to saffron, and it would never come clean.”

“So you do have experience!” She crowed with glee. “Only an expert would know that.”

“I have better experience with almost anything than bairns, my dear. Jeanie won’t be long. This wee beastie can wait. Put that shirt back—look, he’s fine.” He jiggled the child, who regarded him with such a bewildered expression that Alec chuckled. “He resembles the wee monkeys I saw in the Tower zoo…which means you are Jack’s bairn for sure,” he told the baby playfully. The tiny creature grimaced, and Alec laughed again softly. Kate tipped her head, watching them.

“I think Jack is quite handsome,” she said.

“Most women seem to think so,” Alec remarked.

“I think you are, too.” Her eyes sparkled.

He glanced up and smiled in return, could not help it. He felt bespelled again. She dazzled him, without benefit of silks or jewels or deliberate allure. A natural, indefinable quality about her fascinated him. He wanted to savor the sight of her, and savor more of her—much more.

He turned his attention to the baby, who burped. “Oh, aye. There’s definitely Jack in this lad.”

“I hope Jack turns up soon, and safe. I feel responsible, since he led the soldiers away from us. But they’re here this evening,” she added. “Does that mean he’s come to harm?”

Alec frowned. “Honestly, I’ve wondered about that myself. But none of the soldiers mentioned an accident involving the carriage, and that’s encouraging. Jack has friends throughout the region, so he could have gone somewhere for the night, planning to meet us at dawn. There’s naught to do but wait.” The baby began to squirm, tiny fists waving, face reddening. “Here, Kate, take him,” Alec said. “Matters are about to get worse, I fear.”

“He’s yours for now.” She stretched, yawned. “Are you sure he’s Jack’s and not yours?”

“Of course not. I don’t go about bedding innkeepers’ daughters. Laundresses, on the other hand….” Helifted a brow.

Had he been made of steel, the searing glance she sent him would have melted him to the core. He pursed his lips, finding that he was enjoying this all too much.

Kate sat beside him, mattress sagging so that she leaned against him. “He’s so calm now that you’re holding him.”

“It’s because he’s just done his business,” he grumbled.

“Not that—I meant that your hands are large and strong, and your voice is deep and quiet, and you’re so…steady and calm. He feels secure in your keeping.”

Alec glanced at her, a little surprised.

“You’ll make a good father someday. Won’t he?” she asked the baby, taking the tiny hand.

The world seemed to go still around him. Alec sensed the warmth of the child and of the woman beside him, and he inhaled against the pull on his heart. This was what he had wanted for so long—a woman by
his side, an infant between them, himself protecting them, at peace. That possible future had been taken from him, all at once, years ago, and he had not recovered the capacity to dream of it again.

Somehow Kate had cast another spell over him that led him back to those dreams. He exhaled, shook his head. “
Och,
this laddie does not care who has him. He only wants his needs met.”

“We’re all like that,” she said, stroking the baby’s head.

“Aye,” he murmured, keenly aware of her shoulder against his, her hip beside him. God, he thought, this ease and comfort between them felt so good, so natural. He frowned slightly.

“If Jack is the father, will he and Jean marry?” she asked.

“Ask them,” Alec said, shrugging. “It’s their business.” He spoke too sharply, and Kate must have felt it, for she rose abruptly and walked away. Going to the window, she looked outside, profiled chin lifted with pride and a spark of temper.

“I do not know why I am still here with you,” she said. “I should have escaped when I had the chance.”

“Don’t be silly. You would not have left the child alone.”

“No, but I could have found a way. You’re disagreeable as an old bear of a sudden. It was so nice for a moment…” She paused, fingers tapping the windowsill. “And if I stay with you, I’ll just end up in prison. I should just walk out right now while you’re holding that bairn. No one would stop your
wife
,” she bit out defiantly, turning, glancing at the door.

“You could ask a ride from Grant’s men,” he suggested, his own temper stirring. “Or you might try that window, though it’s a long way down in the dark.”

She pursed her mouth in silent irritation and seemed about to reply. Then a knock sounded at the door, and Alec looked up on instant alert. Kate whirled and put a hand to her bodice.

The door creaked opened and Jean peered inside. Alec felt a sense of relief—not only would she take her infant off his hands, but Kate would have to stay for now.

“Captain Fraser—you’re here, too. Oh, my laddie,” Jean crooned as she entered and saw her child in Alec’s arms. Holding a bundle of clothing under her arm, she deposited that on the single rickety chair in the room and took the baby from Alec. He stood, arms folded, and smiled.

“Thank you for watching him,” she said, cuddling her son.

“He was no bother,” Kate replied. “We enjoyed watching him.”

Alec nodded. “Jean, I’ll remind you that we plan to leave early tomorrow, once Jack comes. We want to keep our departure a secret should the soldiers ask where we went.”

“Do you want me to pretend I know nothing?” Jean’s brown eyes gleamed. “Was your wedding a secret one? Has Mrs. Fraser’s father sent out the military to search for her, is that why you want to avoid them?”

“Something like that,” Alec said, glancing at Kate.

Jean smiled. “
Och
, I understand. Dinna worry, the red soldiers are below stairs, so you will likely not see
them again if you stay up here tonight, then leave very early.”

“Good,” Kate said quietly.

“I nearly forgot—I brought something for you,” Jean said, reaching for the bundle. “You’re so kind to watch my bairn, and I wanted to help you. I know you’re stranded with the carriage being broken and all, and while you wait for Jack. But here—this gown and these things do not fit me so well since the child was born. I thought perhaps they would fit you.”

Kate accepted the things and undid the linen toweling that was knotted around the garments. She pulled out a chemise and a few other garments of embroidered cotton, then drew out a long-sleeved gown and attached bodice in a deep, rather glorious shade of red. She gasped and held the dress against her.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Kate smiled. “But I cannot accept it.”

“I tell you, ’tis too tight for me now and will only gather dust. Jack gave it to me two years ago, and I’ve only worn it a few times, to dances on market days, and to a holiday concert in Perth…but now…” Jean shrugged. “The color is very fine on you, with that hint of copper in your hair. And the red puts some roses in your pale cheeks. Captain Fraser, what do you think?”

Alec tilted his head as he studied Kate, who glanced at him almost shyly over the draped bodice of the gown. Dark as rubies, the red fabric lent a warm glow to her ivory skin and made her golden hair seem all the richer. “I like it very well,” he said.

His mind elaborated how beautiful she would look in
the gown, then he thought about taking it off her again. He cleared his throat, sat up. “She’ll look like the queen of all the fairies in that thing, gowned in scarlet and gold.”

“Aye, it’s true,” Jean agreed.

Alec leaned his shoulders against the wall, feeling relaxed, enjoying the moment, “That’s a generous gift, Jean. We’ll replace the dress with something new. Do you prefer red?”

“Oh! I love red, but it’s not necessary—”

“Nonsense. I’ll have something sent from Edinburgh.”

“I would be happy to help choose it,” Kate ventured. “Provided I’m…free.” Her glance met Alec’s.

Jean turned, set her hand on the door handle. “When Jack MacDonald arrives, I will let you know.”

Kate came toward her, and Alec stepped toward the door to open it for Jean and stand guardian so Kate did not try to escape. “Thank you, Jean,” Kate said. “And good night, little one. I don’t think I’ve heard his name,” she added.

“John Alasdair MacLennan. I call him Wee Jack.” Jean smiled.

“Ah,” Kate said, “it suits him.”

Jean bid them good night, and Alec then shut the door after her, turning. Kate busied herself folding the gown neatly, along with the underpinnings Jean had given her. She glanced at him.

“What now, Captain Fraser?” she asked.

“You could put that dress on if you like,” he murmured.

“I would if you let me go,” she retorted. “You could
get a quick glimpse as I left the room and the inn and your life altogether. How would that be?”

“Always bargaining. Perhaps you do have some fairy magic, as they say of you in the propaganda sheets.” Alec bent down to pick up the canvas satchel and lifted the irons from it in a heavy, clanking mass.