“Before.” Ruark raised the tumbler of whisky to his lips, his eyes on the unkempt cousins. “I would have let her split the bastard’s gullet if he had not had the lot ofyouin chains.”
Sitting beside Duncan, Jamie was watching Ruark cautiously through a lank fringe of blond hair, then he quietly tended to his meal. She had not seen Ruark and his younger brother exchange one word, though Ruark was always near and the boy seemed to steal an occasional glance his way. Rose felt strangely akin to Jamie. Perhaps because he and she both were out of place in this room filled with oafish bewhiskered men. Or perhaps because he seemed a little lost despite the manly show of bravery he’d exemplified all day. Or maybe in some small way he reminded her of Jack.
Then, bellies full, they were horseback again.
A rain-dampened, subdued and smaller group arrived at Stonehaven near midnight. Rose had never been so glad to see a structure as she was to see the old baronial estate. It rose from the sea of fog that hovered over the countryside, a brilliant amber beacon visible only at first as small dots of light through the red ash trees. Lights burned behind every window. Torchlight up and down the drive glowed dimly in the mist.
She looked over at Jamie, riding just ahead of her on a dun-colored gelding, his blond head bobbing listlessly with the horse’s slow gait. He was barely staying in the saddle. Every time he’d nodded off, she’d wanted to reach her hand out to him, but the boy, for all his twelve years, considered himself a man and like most men, she suspected, would not appreciate interference from a woman. A Sassenach woman at that.
As she rode through Stonehaven’s arched iron gates surrounded by darkness and fog, the reasons for her feelings did not matter. He’d got sick shortly after leaving the inn, and hadn’t kept anything down for two hours. Now, he looked as if he would fall off his horse. Clearly, something was wrong. Then suddenly he was toppling.
“Stop!” She dropped from the horse to catch him, but Ruark was already off Loki and running toward Jamie.
Ruark caught him before he hit the drive. Rose dropped to her knees on the ground beside him, testing his face for fever. His skin was chilled to her touch. She stripped off her cloak and wrapped it around him.
She swung around and glared at those who had climbed down from the horses and stood around dumbly. “Get some water, for pity’s sake,” she ordered.
A skin of something liquid was thrust into her hands. After pulling off the stopper and smelling the contents, Rose was satisfied she was giving the boy water.
“I do no’ feel well, Ruark,” she heard the boy say as the first shouts from the direction of the house sounded.
“Aye,” Ruark said gently, a chuckle in his voice. “ ’Tis probably the ale ye drank at the inn,a’bhrarhar. Can ye walk?” Rose glared at Ruark. How can you be so heartless? she wanted to shout. She did not believe Jamie suffered only from the drink Duncan had given him at the inn. The boy was exhausted and ill nourished.
“Aye, he can walk,” Duncan said, coming up behind her, a dark looming shape in the darkness. “The lad is no babe to be shamed.”
Rose pushed herself to her feet. “Do not be ludicrous. Can you not see he is ill?”
“He is a Kerr. He does no’ need your coddling, woman.”
Ruark gave Jamie a hand up to stand. “He may be aKerr. But he has proven himself enough these last months, Duncan. Sometimes even a Kerr needs the help of another.” He looked down at the boy, who stood on legs as wobbly as a newborn foal’s. Angus put a firm warning hand on Rose’s shoulder, stopping her from moving forward to help him.
“Your mam will be down the drive at any moment,” Ruark said to the boy, an unspoken question in his voice.
Over Ruark’s shoulder, Rose glimpsed those filtering out of the house, now hurrying down the drive toward them. Julia’s heavy satin gown flared about her like a peony as she ran.
“Mam,” the boy whispered, newfound strength in his voice.
Throwing off the cloak, Jamie struggled up the hill on his own volition to meet the human onslaught coming toward them. Jamie had recovered for the moment anyway, and for now, he was twelve years old again and in his mother’s loving arms. Watching the happy reunion, Rose felt a surge of bittersweet feelings, yet comforted to note that there still existed loving families in this world. She should not be jealous but she felt exposed and awkward.
The other men who had ridden through the gate with them began to move toward the stables, taking Loki, leaving the more intimate reunion to closer family members, which Rose was not. Angus remained behind with her, and from their place in the shadows said, “Ye did right not interfering, lass.”
Only because he’d prevented her from doing so, Rose thought. “In my world, a person is not afraid to give or accept aid from another,” she said. “He is only a boy.”
“The lad is old enough to be hanged for his misdeeds. Ruark, more than most, understands. In our world, noKerr should be carried on his back to his own front door unless he is dead. Especially in front of the men.”
Rose didn’t much care for Ruark’s world and thought it in need of compromise. But she understood.
“Strength lies as much in perception as action,” she said quietly.
Angus clapped her on the back as if she were one of his clansmen. “Aye, ye be remeberin’ that yourself, and you’ll do right among us, lass, even if ye do come from Hereford’s stock.”
Rose glared up at his gruff face, but he was already looking to the needs of his horse and bending down to reach the reins.
She turned to look for Ruark and found him on the drive in conversation with Duncan, though conversation might be the wrong word. Ruark jabbed a finger in the middle of Duncan’s chest, their harsh whispers growing in strength.
“What happened this morning with Duncan?” she asked worriedly, remembering the exchange between Colum and McBain earlier.
Angus saw where she was looking. “Hmpf. There be history between those two, lass,” he said. “You best stay clear of it and go inside. Ruark will find you when he’s done with Duncan.”
