Hannah and the Highlander (38 page)

Panic tightened in her gut. Certainty.

Death was upon them.

Her only regret was that she had never told Alexander she loved him. Bless him, she did, and he deserved to know.

But it was too late—

A looming shadow appeared through the smoke. Relief swamped her … and then her pulse snarled with trepidation.
Alexander.

He'd run into a
burning building
. Was he insane?

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

He didn't answer, other than to say gruffly, “Let me take her.” With great ease, he cradled the old woman in his arms and herded Hannah out the door.

They barely made it. As they burst through, into the fresh, clean, sunny morning, the hut folded in on itself with a great whoosh.

Hannah whirled to watch, although she didn't know why. It was a tragedy. Everything Agnes had, including the timbers she might have sold for a bite of food, everything, was gone.

Alexander sank to his knees and set Agnes gently on the ground. He himself was gasping for breath. There was a slash on his cheek and his hair was singed. His face was pale. The sight made her belly clench.

Agnes moaned, commanding her attention.
Poor dear.
She was pale and shaking. Hannah rolled up her scorched shawl and eased Agnes down, tucking it beneath her head. Her heart still pounded in her chest, but
doing
something helped.

A cursory scan of the yard showed that the men who had incited this mayhem were gone. But for the four of them, the clearing was deserted.

The hut and the barn were gone as well.

There was nothing left.

Absolutely nothing.

The thought devastated Hannah. Agnes had spent her life in this croft, and her mother's mother before her. It had taken centuries of hard work, scraping by, to build what little she had. It was all gone. In the blink of an eye.

“Is she all right?” Caithness asked, sheathing his sword.

“Aye, but she needs water,” Hannah said. She made her way to the well—thankfully that was still standing—and drew out a cup, which she carried back and gently fed to the old woman as Alexander and the duke went to collect the cart standing in the field. Hannah and Alexander would bring Agnes home. To live with them in the castle. It was the least they could do.

When the men returned with the cart, Hannah watched as they carefully lifted Agnes in. The horror of the morning descended, filling Hannah's belly with bile and rage. Her mind flitted through it all. The brutal fist to her cheek, the men's cocky attitudes, the heartless manner in which Olrig's minions had destroyed Agnes' croft, uncaring even if they took a life.

There was a special place in hell for men like this.

If there was a God in heaven, they would pay.

Hannah's gaze fell on her husband, on the burn marks on his plaid, and a fresh fury rose, spurred by an unaccountable panic.

She'd nearly died, but she didn't give a whit about that.

He
had nearly died.

She'd nearly lost him forever.

Dread scoured her soul. Dread, panic, and a biting annoyance.

Which was probably why, when he approached her, arms extended to fold her into a hug, she smacked him.

*   *   *

Alexander blinked and glanced down at his chest. Being smacked by Hannah was akin to being batted by a kitten, but it had still shocked him. His body was shaking with reaction. The absolute terror of seeing his wife run into the flaming hut had liquefied his bowels. His alarm had given him inhuman strength and he had quickly vanquished his opponent, and then, without thought, he'd run in after her.

Why she was angry with him—as she clearly was—was a mystery.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she spat. “You could have been killed.”

Exasperation rose. “Me?
You
could have been killed. Bluidy hell, Hannah. Do you know what it did to me seeing you hie into that cottage?”

“I would have been fine. You should have stayed outside. Where it was safe.”

“
You
should have stayed outside. You should have waited for me to save Agnes.”

“There wasna time and you know it.”

“Children. Children,” the duke interrupted. They both ignored him.

Alexander glared at Hannah. “You are far too reckless.”

“Reckless? I saved a woman's life.”

“And nearly lost your own. I couldna bear it if I lost you, Hannah. You are my life.” He hated the way his voice cracked, hated the weakness, the vulnerability, in his tone. But something in his anguished words reached her.

She stilled. Blinked. Tipped her head to the side. “Did you say, ‘You are my
wife
'?”

“Nae. My
life
.” And she was. God help him. His wife, his life, his love. “Hannah…” Though she was still humming with anger, he yanked her into his arms. The feel of her body, hale and whole against his, was a joy. He stared down at her face; smudged with soot though it was, it was the most beautiful face in the world. “Hannah,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.

He kissed her with all the love and hope and relief in his soul. It was not a tender buss. It was a wildfire, as savage and raw as the blaze that had taken Agnes' home. Hannah's response was just as fierce. Alexander didn't want the kiss to end.

But Caithness cleared his throat.

“We should probably head back. Agnes will need tending.”

Aye.
He was right. With great regret, Alexander released his wife, but he couldn't resist one last quick buss. He stared down into her wide, beautiful brown eyes. “When we get home, Hannah, we are finishing this conversation.”

“I look forward to it.” Her grin was impish and wicked and it sent a lance of lust through him.

*   *   *

When they returned to the castle, Alexander handed Agnes into Fergus' care and the three trooped inside. Hannah was exhausted and aching but couldn't still the trill of relief to be home.

Home.

Aye.
That was what Lochlannach Castle was to her now. Home.

Lana met them in the foyer. “How did it go?” she said with a bright smile. Then her gaze lit on Hannah and her eyes widened. She stopped stock-still and stared. “What happened to you?”

Unbidden, Hannah's hand rose to her hair. Aye, it was a tangled nest—likely singed off in places—and her cheek was still an aching mass. No doubt she looked horrible. Alexander stepped up beside her and curled his arm around her in a show of support that warmed her. She nestled closer.

“Olrig's men burned down a crofter's cottage,” he said in a dark voice.

“While she was in it,” Hannah added.

“How horrible. Is she all right?”

“She's fine.” Alexander frowned down at Hannah. “Hannah ran in to save her.”

Lana gasped. “You dinna!”

Caithness chuckled. “And then Alexander ran in after her. You were both very lucky. I shudder to think what could have happened.” His gaze rounded the company. “I don't know about you, Dunnet, but I should very much like a drink right now.”

Alexander grunted his assent and they made their way into the parlor. Hannah collapsed on the divan while her husband poured three healthy draughts. When Hannah tried to refuse the one he offered, he insisted. “You've had a shock.”

She frowned at him. “Caused by you.”

“Me?”

“When I realized you'd followed me into that inferno. Honestly, Dunnet. What were you thinking?”

He sat beside her and glowered. “I was thinking perhaps I might save my wife from burning to a crisp.”

Caithness sighed. “Are we going to start with this again?”

In tandem, they glared at him. But when Alexander covered her hand with his and squeezed, her ire faded. How could she stay mad? He'd saved her after all. She stared into his eyes and her heart fluttered. “You were wonderful in the fight,” she murmured.

“Ooh. There was a fight?” Lana leaned forward.

“A ferocious battle between Dunnet and Caithness, and Olrig's men. They trounced them.”

“Did they?”

“Aye.” Hannah turned to Caithness. “You were rather impressive as well, which was a surprise.”

The offense on his face was comical. “A surprise?”

“Your sword is quite tiny.”

“It is nothing of the sort,” he grumbled as he resettled himself. “I'll have you know, fencing with an épée is a time-honored sport. And I'm known to be one of the better swordsmen in England.”

“As I said. You were impressive.”

He tugged on his plaid. “Thank you.”

Lana's contemplative gaze landed on the duke, causing his ears to go pink.

“As awful as it was, I'm glad we were there,” Hannah said. “I canna imagine what would have happened to Agnes had we not been there to rescue her.”

Alexander nodded and squeezed Hannah's hand. His thumb made a distracting foray over her palm. “So, Caithness, what do you think of the Clearances, now that you've see the truth of it?”

The duke tore his gaze from Lana's and scrubbed his face with his palms. “It is a horror. Not what I imagined it would be. Not what the lords in London claimed it was. Not in the least. But then…” His attention flickered back to Lana. “Nothing here has been.”

“Have you … reconsidered your decision?” This Lana asked in a soft voice.

“Yes. Indeed I have. I cannot be a part of what we saw today and I certainly do not want to be the cause of such suffering. I shall have Dougal send missives to all my barons, ordering them to cease and desist all Clearances immediately.”

Hannah nearly deflated as relief gushed through her. Her family, her lands, her people … all safe. It was a glorious moment. She glanced at Alexander and they shared a smile.

“And Dunnet?” she asked the duke, though her gaze still tangled with her husband's. “Will he remain as laird?”

The duke took a sip of his drink and sighed. “I must say, I owe you an apology for that, Dunnet. I came here so arrogant. So full of myself. So sure I knew everything. But I didn't. I didn't know anything.”

“You owe me nothing, Your Grace.”

The duke blew out a breath. “Please. Call me Lachlan. If we're to be friends moving forward, it is only fitting.”

A warm glow rose on Alexander's cheeks. “I would like that.”

“Well,” Lana said. “Since we're all being so charming and friendly, I have something for you, Your Grace.” She stood and crossed to the sofa where he sat and perched next to him, pulling something from her pocket. The necklace. With a smile, she handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, a somber expression on his darkly handsome face. When he took it from her, he covered her hands with his and gazed into her eyes. His throat worked. “Thank you,” he said.

She fluttered her lashes. “For the record, I would probably have given it to you anyway. Because it meant so much to you.”

He narrowed his eyes on her, but a smile played on his lips. “Minx,” he murmured.

The two stared at each other for a long while and, to Hannah's surprise, the familiar trickle of annoyance did not skirl through her belly. Upon reflection, she rather liked the duke. He'd proven himself to be an honorable and fair man, and though his sword was rather tiny, he certainly handled it with flair. And he had eschewed his lace. Indeed, he looked fine in his Sinclair kilt with a manly smudge of soot on his face.

Should some romance happen to flare between him and her sister, it might not be so terrible. In fact, it might come in handy having a duke in the family. So when Lachlan stood and asked Lana if she would like to take a walk in the garden with him, Hannah didn't squawk as she once might have done.

But she did send him a narrow-eyed warning glare.

She wasn't a fool.

Once they were alone, Alexander pulled her into his arms. “Shall we go to our rooms?” he asked. “I believe we have a conversation to finish.”

She rumpled her brow.
A conversation?
His saucy expression reminded her.
Oh. Aye.
“Let's,” she said, tugging him to his feet. Together, they made their way up the grand staircase of their home, his arm around her and her head tucked against his chest.

“I'm so pleased with the way everything worked out,” she said.

“Mmm.” His murmur rumbled through her.

“That he changed his mind about the Clearances, certainly, but also that he willna be replacing my baron.” She went up on her toes and kissed the underside of Alexander's chin. “I have a fondness for my baron.”

His eyes glinted. “And I have a fondness for my baroness.”

This was hardly a declaration, but then, she had vowed to herself that she would not expect too much of Alexander. And fondness was, indeed, a start.

When they entered his room, she turned to face him. “Alexander, I'm sorry I frightened you by running into the cottage. I shouldna have been so rash. I promise to be more circumspect in the future.” Surely there was no call for him to chuckle. “I am a baroness. I shall endeavor to act like one.”

“And how does a baroness act?”

“She is reserved and elegant. Remote, perhaps.”

He snorted. “But I love you the way you are.”

Her heart stalled. She gaped at him. Her lips flapped. “You … you … you l-love me?”

“Ach, Hannah Lochlannach. I do. I love you.” His arms tightened around her and he kissed her on her nose. “I love everything about you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and everything in between.”

“B-b-but…” she sputtered. “I'm plain.”

“Not a bit of it.”

“And plump.”

He nestled closer. “I enjoy that verra much.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am stubborn,” she offered in a warning tone.