Ailis knew she had finally lost the battle, but said, “Ye didna kill him when ye had to fight him; why should I believe that ye would do so now?”
“Because we both ken that ye are trying to gain time. Well, I have no more time to waste.”
That cold statement confirmed Ailis’s decision to surrender. A plan was of little use when it was known by the enemy. Neither could she use Jaime’s life to buy time to wait for a rescue that might never come. No one knew she and the children had left Leargan, let alone where they had gone to. She doubted that they would even be missed for several more hours. Jaime’s life meant more to her than gaining a little time. Ailis could only pray that she was not just delaying Jaime’s fate even as she hurried forward the fate of herself and the children. She glared down at the man who threatened her dearest and truest friend.
“I want your oath that no harm will come to us,” she said. “Your solemn oath.”
Alexander stiffened with outrage and snapped, “We dinna make war upon helpless women and bairns.”
“I didna ask ye for a debate on what ye will or willna do. I asked for youroaththat the bairns will come to no harm whilst they are in your hands.”
A soft growl through tightly gritted teeth was Alexander’s first reply, but then he said, “Ye have my oath on it. Now, get your backsides out of that cursed tree ere I skewer this giant.”
“Someone must catch the children,” Ailis said, trying not to let the man’s obvious fury frighten her. “ ‘Tis too far for them to come down unaided.” Over and over she told herself she had to remain brave before the children, for she did not wish to add to the upset they were already suffering.
It was difficult for Alexander to just stand and watch as the children were lowered down. As he took a close look at them, their relationship to his brother, to the MacDubhs, was clear to see, and he felt himself swell with emotion—an even mixture of a still raw grief and a deep joy. In order to conquer that wealth of feeling he turned his full attention to the slim, shapely, raven-haired woman nimbly descending from the tree and ignoring the offered assistance. The vision also caused something to stir inside of him, but he was almost certain most people would not consider lust an emotion.
The woman was small, yet had a sensual air equal to, even surpassing, that of a voluptuous woman. As she moved to the fallen giant’s side, her walk held an explicit invitation, although instinct told Alexander that it was not only unintentional but unknown to her. Nevertheless, Alexander was immediately determined to accept that invitation.
Jaime sat up, looking a little groggy and his swarthy face reflecting his upset, an emotional turmoil further illustrated by the heavy stutter he spoke with. “Och, m-mistress, ye shouldna have come d-down. I am n-nay worth it. Ye should have s-s-stayed in that t-tree.”
The twins were patting Jaime’s broad back, and little Sibeal held one of his large hands in her two tiny ones in an attempt to calm the distraught man, so Ailis patted Jaime’s dark, curly head. “Nay, I couldna desert ye. Dinna fret so. If it will make ye feel any better, dinna believe I did it for ye, but for myself—for the ease of my own heart, soul, and mind. Nary a one of them would have given me a moment’s peace if I had let ye be slain.”
A frown settled on Alexander’s face as he ordered his men to collect all the items that belonged to the MacFarlanes. It was clear that Jaime was a little slow. It was also clear that even the woman held some affection for the brute. That puzzled Alexander, for it went against what he had come to believe about women. So did her surrender simply because he had threatened the giant. He pushed his confusion aside and considered the problem now confronting him. He wanted the girl, but lust was not sufficient reason to drag her along with them. So, he mused with an inner smile, he had to find another to salve his conscience.
“What are ye to these bairns?” he demanded of Ailis. “Are ye their nurse?”
The very last thing Ailis wanted the man to know was that she was Colin MacFarlane’s niece. Although he had been kind to the children, she could not forget the blood feud between the MacDubhs and the MacFarlanes. She suspected he might not be so charitable to an adult MacFarlane. “Aye, I am their nurse.”
“Ye look a wee bit young to be a nurse.”
“I am twenty. ‘Tis old enough.”
“Then ye are to come with us. I will have need of a nurse to tend the children, and there is none at Rathmor.” He grasped her by the arm and frowned when she did not immediately fall into step at his side.
“What of Jaime?” she asked as she fought the tug he gave on her arm.
“What of him? He can stay here.”
“I didna surrender to save his life just so that ye can leave him to Colin MacFarlane’s fury. ‘Twould be a certain death for Jaime.”
Alexander knew he was making a mistake even as he looked into the eyes of the three children. Just as he had expected, the plea he could read upon the children’s face was his undoing. It was undoubtedly foolish to take such an admirable fighter into the very heart of his stronghold, but Alexander knew he could never tell the children that he was going to leave the brute behind to an uncertain and, most assuredly, unpleasant fate.
“Very well,” he snapped, irritated by his own weakness. “He may come with us if he swears to cause no trouble.”
Jaime hesitated only long enough to exchange one long look with Ailis, then managed to utter the promise Alexander had demanded. Alexander’s men eyed the huge man warily as he mounted. The MacDubhs did what they could to disguise any signs of their presence. They swept the ground with branches to obscure their tracks, patted down any turned-up earth, and even cleared away any horse droppings. The last thing Alexander needed or wanted was to be caught up in a mad race for the safety of Rathmor.
Alexander sat the young girl Sibeal on his horse in front of him while the twins were mounted together on another horse. The somewhat haughty-appearing nurse rode alone, and astride, much to Alexander’s appreciative amusement. He wrenched his gaze from her slim stockinged legs and signaled the start of the ride back to Rathmor. He ordered his men to keep the horses at a steady, ground-covering pace, yet one that would not tire the animals out too quickly.
It had all gone far too well for his liking. Alexander could not believe his luck. It made him uneasy. Except for a multitude of bruises and a possible broken bone or two, he and his men had gained their objective with very little violence. He had been prepared to attack Leargan itself, hoping that the advantage of surprise would compensate for his small force, but he was pleased that he did not have to take that risk now. Nevertheless, he could not shake the feeling that trouble and complications aplenty waited just around the corner. He cursed himself for a superstitious fool and concentrated on getting back to Rathmor before his remarkable good luck ran out.
As Ailis rode along on her sorrel mare, she felt relieved that her ploy of claiming to be the children’s nurse had worked. She suspected the man had very little knowledge of such things; otherwise he would have realized that she was too young to hold such an important position in her clan. She prayed that none of the children would give her away. It was enough for now that her quick, sharp look had silenced them. She did not like to force them to lie, but the truth now would only cause them all a great deal of trouble.
Although there had been sporadic violence between the clans, she had no idea why the MacDubhs should want Mairi’s illegitimate children. They could not possibly know what she had only suspected. Yet stealing the children had clearly been the MacDubhs’ plan. She could not believe that the fair-haired leader who had spared Jaime’s life could be so vile as to harm children. Ailis hoped that she was not letting the man’s handsome face blind her to his true nature.
There was only one thing she was sure of, and that was that she faced rape at the hands of the beautiful if grim-faced man who led the MacDubhs. A chilling shudder ripped through her when she had finally realized who he was—Alexander MacDubh, the most famous and feared member of the MacDubh clan. From a very young age she had been taught what the man looked like, a description it had been easy for any young lass to recall. Those tales of a beautiful man, altered by grief from a charming courtier to an embittered, cold-hearted raider, had always fascinated her and won her sympathy. As a young girl, she had suffered from a confusing mix of a need to see such a beautiful man and a dread that she might some day get her wish. Dread was what she felt now, for she had caught a glimpse of a familiar look in his rich blue eyes, a look she regrettably knew all too well. Alexander MacDubh desired her. Now that she was his prisoner, he could simply take her whenever he wished.
The arrogance of it annoyed her even as the inevitability of it chilled her. She would have no allies at Rathmor; Jaime would only be slain if he tried to come to her aid. Her true identity would certainly not help her. It could easily inspire an even harsher treatment.
