A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,67
shot of them. Gair isn’t helping me out of the kindness of his heart.”
“Aye, well, it might end in shooting,” Una said darkly.
Gair and Padruig were no strangers to casual violence, Fiona knew. She also knew they would never betray a Jacobite Highlander. They might bleed that Highlander of all he had and steal anything left, but they were loyal Scots to the bone.
“I’ve come to beg ye.” Stuart made a show of going down on his knees, which only made him slightly less tall.
Fiona’s breath caught. She could go to him, place her hands on his shoulders, lean down and kiss him …
She sucked in air and nearly choked. “Aren’t the Butcher’s men looking for you?” Her words were cracked and dry. “It’s dangerous for you to be in Scotland. Their men hunt everywhere.”
“Aye, but I’ve come this far. ’Tisn’t many more miles to your brother’s home. And I’ll continue playing the servant, a beast of burden.”
Stuart was so far from being a beast of burden that Fiona wanted to laugh. “You might hide from Cumberland, but not from my brother,” she pointed out.
“No matter. I’ll discover if he has the dagger, give it to Padruig—or let Padruig convince your brother to let it go—and be off.”
“Going where?” Fiona could barely voice the question.
Stuart shrugged. He climbed to his feet, towering over her once more.
How had Fiona come to be so close to him? She didn’t remember moving, but now she stood only a yard away.
“Home for now.” Stuart’s words filled with emotion. “Back to my own lands.”
“Where you’ll be caught and captured.”
Another shrug. “I’ll do everything I can to prevent that, but I need to see to my house and people before I leave again. If I do. I’m tired of running, Fiona.” His weariness touched her.
She closed her hands so they wouldn’t tremble. If Stuart continued to stand so near and say her name like that, she’d be lost.
“I can’t take ye to Broc. He’ll kill ye.”
Stuart rubbed his forehead, leaving another black streak. “Well, I’m going with or without ye, love. Be easier with ye.”
Her irritation rose. “Bloody stubborn Scot.”
“Aye, that’s me.” Stuart was inches from her, his big hands clasping hers and lifting them to his lips. “Come with me, Fiona. Ye were so angry when I left ye, that ye might enjoy watching your brother trying to best me.”
Never. Fiona had worried herself sick about Stuart from the moment he’d ridden away from the castle, laughing, rushing off to war.
Fiona pried her hands from his, hoping he couldn’t see how much she was melting. “Never mind. I’ll come with you. My intervention might keep ye alive.” She tried to glower.
Stuart shot her a grin that was like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Even if it doesn’t, I’ll enjoy arguing with ye on the way.” He made an exaggerated, courtly bow. “Ladies. Good evening. We leave on the morrow.”
He turned up his collar, hunched himself down, opened the door, and tramped from the room, becoming one more servant in an inn full of travelers. The door closed, shutting out the noise.
“Ye aren’t truly going to go to Castle Mòr with him, are ye?” Una asked in alarm.
Fiona checked her bag once more, making certain it was securely fastened. “Aye, that I am. What we have to do is on the way, anyway. Stuart or my brother might die if I don’t go with him, and if I have a chance to prevent such a thing, I will.”
“Humph,” Una muttered, but thankfully said no more.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, was bitterly cold but clear. Stuart, with Gair and Padruig, waited in the yard until Fiona and Una emerged. Una was bundled to her ears in misshapen wraps, Fiona in a loose dark skirt, long coat, and scarf.
Gair was ready to set off, clutching a long staff to trudge out of the yard, but Fiona forestalled him. “I must wait for my mount.”
“Ye brought a horse?” Gair asked in amazement.
“I’m certainly not trudging through the snow on foot, sir.” Fiona’s green eyes widened over her scarf, and Stuart smothered a laugh.
One of the lads from the inn brought out a horse from the livery, a shaggy and sturdy mare. The lad moved to boost Fiona into the saddle, but Stuart reached her first. She gave him a startled look as he cupped his hand for her to step into, but she let him grasp her leg and lift her lightly to the mare’s back. Fiona swung her leg