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‘Almost.’ He picked up the spade and started to flatten some of graves.
She glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at her. Which was good. She was feeling too raw from his rejection.
‘What do you do with those branches?’ he asked.
The greenery from birch branches, twigs and fern leaves lay as scattered as her thoughts.
Frowning, she concentrated hard before she remembered. ‘They’re to honour the graves. I wanted to give them more than just dirt.’ He didn’t help her as she picked up the scattered branches. ‘Let them know they were—’
She couldn’t finish the thought. It hurt too much to think of her sister. Pained too much to remember how the children had lost their parents. She tiptoed over the graves and placed the branches and greenery over them. She was glad she could hide her face while she arranged the branches. But it didn’t take long. She didn’t have much.
Now she only had the living to worry about. And that included herself. At least until her body stopped feeling this longing for a stranger and her heart stopped feeling this foolish hurt.
She brushed the back of her hands across her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say to him.
‘I prepared the food,’ she said when she could bear the silence no more.
He didn’t answer and she looked up. He was looking at her decorated graves, his brow furrowed, his cheeks hollowed out. He stuck the spade into the ground with unnecessary force, his eyes not meeting hers.
She hesitated before walking back to the camp. He followed her, but when she stumbled at the top of the hill, he did not help her.
* * *
Grief, anger and lust coursed through Robert’s body as he followed Gaira to the camp. The decorated graves were a painful reminder of his past. His grief crashed into his lust. The feelings could not be more different. Hot, cold, pain, pleasure. His anger at feeling anything at all underlined everything.
Worse, his years of abstinence mocked him as he followed Gaira up the hill. He tried to look at the countryside around him, but the slope of the green hills were weak substitutes for the fire of Gaira’s multiple-plaited hair.
He watched as each plait’s swing pointed to every female detail of her: the tapering of her waist, the flare of her hips, the curvature of her buttocks, the lean strength of her long, long legs.
His desire for the woman was too complicated and the situation was difficult enough. He had let Hugh know where he was going, but he was late to return to camp. It was good her dead were buried because so were his obligations to her.
‘It is getting late,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll keep camp again tonight.’
She didn’t break her stride. ‘Aye.’
‘I’ll try not to wake the children when I leave in the morning.’
She stopped so suddenly, he almost walked into her back. When she whirled, her plaits slashed like tiny ropes against his arms and hands.
‘What do you mean when you leave in the morning?’ she asked, one eyebrow raised.
‘I told my men I would be gone for no more than one day. I have been gone for almost two. If I do not return soon, they will come to check on me.’
A crease began in the middle of her brow. ‘Tomorrow I was taking the children and returning to my brothers on Colquhoun land. It is north up the Firth of Clyde.’
He did not see how this pertained to him leaving in the morning, but he knew well where the Firth of Clyde was.
‘That is miles north and across cold water,’ he pointed out. ‘You and the children couldn’t possibly make it that far.’
She did not question why an Englishman would have such accurate knowledge of Scottish territory. ‘That is the plan.’
He turned more fully towards her, waiting for her to finish, to comment their next of kin would be here soon and it would be best if he left as soon as possible.
But all she did was look pointedly at him, as though she was waiting for him to say something. He did want to say something. A blind man could see the danger in her plan.
‘You’ll never make it with one horse,’ he said. ‘Flora is so slender and slight in body and spirit, you can practically see through her. Alec and Maisie are too young for such a trek on horseback.’ He took a step closer to her. ‘What if you run out of oatcakes for Maisie—what will she eat? Creighton will not speak—what if he spies danger, but will not warn?’
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She looked as though she had no idea how to reply to him. He started to walk past her.
She did not move. ‘You are so good at telling me what cannot and should not be done. You have nae say here. Alec may be small, but his determination is strong.’ Her fists clenched at her sides. ‘Maisie’s teeth may still be coming in, but she has some and if we run out of oatcakes, we can grind the meat we have and mix it with water. I’ll make sure she doesn’t starve.’
She took a couple of steps away as if to distance herself from him and released her fists. ‘As for Flora and Creighton, I suspect they were nae always mute and weak. I believe your soldiers had something to do with that, but they survived; they were smart and quick enough to protect Alec, too.’
The sun was setting behind her, making her hair look licked with fire. The whisky colour of her eyes was shaded a golden tawny. She was all flared anger and determination and she was magnificent. He could not keep from wondering what her hair would look like unbound, what shade her eyes would go when she was feeling emotions other than anger. He could not help feeling a fool for noticing.
‘They’ll make it,’ she confirmed. ‘They’ve grown up despite my trying to protect them.’
She took another step closer to him and he could smell the fragrance of her hair, a mixture of greenery and something sweet, like some berry he’d never tasted.
He tried to focus his thoughts on the children. ‘You’ve come to care for them,’ he said.
‘Aye!’
‘Surely they have kin who would come for them.’
‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ She waved her arms at him. ‘Flora says she has some, but she doesn’t know where. Alec’s too young to know otherwise.’
‘And Maisie?’
‘I know whose kin she belongs to,’ she said. ‘This conversation doesn’t matter. I need to get them to my brothers. It is the only place where I know they will be taken care of.’
He could hardly argue with her on where the children would be safe. It wasn’t as if he could take her back to the English camp, even if she and the children wanted to. The distance to her brother’s land might be dangerous, but he knew of no other place for them, far or near. Still, he repeated himself.
‘You’ll never make it.’
She stepped closer to him, until she was right under his nose, and punched him in the chest. ‘Oh, aye, we will and you’re going to help.’
Chapter Eight (#ulink_5da1770e-e1db-5d35-863d-a1d384c14b07)
All sound was suddenly suctioned out of the air. No, that wasn’t right, because she heard the sound of a bee buzzing past them, the rustle of the wind through the grass. It was just Robert who was quiet.
His eyes never wavered from her; his arms hung almost unnaturally by his sides. Had he heard her?
‘No...’ he breathed.
She clamped down on her quick anger. He had heard her. And his unwillingness shouldn’t have surprised her. ‘Aye, you are. Why did you come if not to do something for a village your fellow soldiers massacred?’
He didn’t say anything. She took a step away from him. Guilt for his country wasn’t motivating him. She would have to try another tactic.
‘The children aren’t safe. They must get to my brothers to receive the care they need. You’re right, we’ll never make it alone. But with your help, your supplies, your horse, we will.’
He still said nothing.
Her anger was quickly drowning in her panic. What if he didn’t help? Could this man, could any man, really just walk away?
‘Where are your feelings?’ she accused.
Something moved in his eyes, a dark shadow that left a strange ache in her chest. She suddenly wanted to soothe him and that didn’t make any sense.
She pressed her fingers under her eyes. It could not be his feelings, but her own making her heart ache. It had to be. He had no feelings, while she was rapidly losing control of hers—losing control of her pride, too. But she’d gladly beg if it would get him to move.
‘You inding shirrow weevil, can’t you see I wouldn’t ask if I dinna have to? You’re our only hope!’
To think she had been glad when he arrived. He had barely helped her before and now he wasn’t even answering her request.
‘Auntie Gaira! I saved you some rabbit!’
Alec, his wild hair flying behind him, bounded towards her. Her heart lifted at the sight of his skips and jumps. Despite everything, children were resilient. And in that, she knew they’d make it. If only the children had a chance.
Stepping away from Robert, she crouched in readiness for Alec to join her. It was so natural, so easy. And there was her answer. They did have a chance. They had her. And with that, she stopped her doubting. Feeling as wild as his hair, she grabbed Alec’s loose hand. Alec squealed and tried to get away.
‘Oh, you saved me some rabbit, did you? Is this the rabbit you saved me? It looks so succulent.’
‘Nae, not me, Auntie Gaira. I’m not the rabbit!’
She poked at him, pretending she was testing his fatness. ‘Oh, you’re a tasty morsel, you are.’
She began to smack her lips and Alec screamed louder. His eyes widened with delight and mock fear.
She could feel Robert watching her, but didn’t spare him a glance. Instead she tossed her plaits and pulled Alec behind her as they ran towards the camp.
* * *
The camp was quiet, except for the slight crackle of the fire and the few insects and nocturnal creatures that scattered and rustled the leaves and twigs around them.
Gaira wrapped her arms tighter around her and watched as the fire’s flames dimmed. She could not sleep. Her thoughts wouldn’t let her alone. And they, just like the fire, dimmed and scattered in different directions.
She thought of the children, now fast asleep, and how she was getting them to her clan. She thought of what was to become of them and her if they were caught by her betrothed.
She thought of Robert, who hadn’t said a word since Alec had interrupted them. But she had been aware of him watching her, watching the children. Watching her.
She had no idea what his thoughts were when she returned to camp and had played with Maisie, combed Flora’s hair and made sure Creighton ate enough rabbit to fill his growing body.
She tried not to care about his thoughts as she cleaned up dinner, banked the fire and wrapped the children in her shawl to keep them warm in the night’s chill.
She no longer felt frustrated at him or even hurt. She just felt confused. He acted and behaved like no man she had ever known.
He had seemed almost angry at her asking. Not angry because her request was an inconvenience, but angry because her request had brought him pain. But instead of giving her reasons, he had watched her all evening.
Even though he was on the other side of the fire, she still felt Robert watching her, which meant, he, too, was not asleep. That knowledge, probably more than anything, was why she still couldn’t get to sleep.
Restless, she sat and began to unplait her hair. It had been cleaned before she had carefully plaited it, but the plaits pulled at her head and she wanted to be free from their confinement.
She had not heard him move, but rather she felt him move. It was as if he had sat up, his watchful eyes now intent, focused.
On her.
Suddenly uncoordinated, she unwound her hair with uneven tugs until it was loose enough to comb.
With trembling fingers she massaged her scalp to relieve the sharp prickles. But Robert was watching her and the prickles spread, tingled across her sensitive shoulders and lower through her body and legs.
Shaking, she grabbed her comb. Raising it, she stroked the comb through her thick hair to unravel the coils.
She heard Robert stand and move behind her. But he did not speak and neither did she.
The air around her grew warm, thick, and her heart began to beat in an unfamiliar rhythm. She stroked the comb through her hair again, letting the teeth bite from her scalp through the ends and out.
He inhaled sharply.
For a moment, she held the comb suspended, then, lowering it, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry I woke you.’
‘I have questions.’
His response was such a direct contrast to what she was feeling. She waited, but he didn’t say anything more and he didn’t return to his side of the fire.
Unsure what else to do, she slid the comb through the rest of her hair, setting the coils free. But it wasn’t enough to loosen the tension and she massaged her scalp, fingering her way through the heavy curls. Her hair felt wilder somehow, her fingers noticing textures she’d never felt before. Just as she’d never felt a man’s gaze as she felt Robert’s gaze. Just as she’d never felt her breath quicken as if she’d burned herself and kept her hand in the fire nonetheless. She felt like her hair, freed but still coiled.
‘How did you find the children?’ Robert’s voice was hoarse, unfocused.
Unbalanced, it took all her concentration to understand the question. He wanted to know about the children. Not this...unknown breathlessness.
She could talk about the children. He had helped her bury the dead and hunt more food. Her breath returned to normal. He deserved some of the truth.
‘I arrived maybe only a few hours after the English left,’ she replied.
He sat down beside her, his legs bent, his arms and hands hanging loosely between his knees. He was not touching or facing her, but it did not matter. She felt him beside her.
‘In my hurry down the hill, I hurt my ankle, but I still walked through the valley.’ She did not want to describe what she had seen. He had been to the valley, he knew what was there.
‘I heard Maisie before I saw her. She was in the last hut and under some torn blankets and an upturned chest. They were unwashed horse blankets. I guess the English dinna want to bother with them.’
Even though she had not seen them, she had no doubt it was the English who had destroyed Doonhill. She clenched the comb and let the sharp points press into her palm.
‘I grabbed her, held her. She had been my only hope. There was nothing else...salvageable.’ She breathed in raggedly. ‘I went back up the hill to get my spooked horse. He was near a small copse of trees. By then my ankle hurt and I was grateful he had not gone any further.’
‘That was when I saw movement in the trees. I was scared—I knew the English had just left. But it was the children. Flora holding Alec’s hand and Creighton standing with his fists at his sides.’
‘You did not mention your kin.’
