Page 42 of Keeping Kate
“And they are there now, at Inverness?”
He shook his head. “Not now. My parents died years back, and my brother about a year ago. My sister lives in Inverness-shire—Kilburnie is the property—she and her husband and children.”
“But you must be Laird of Kilburnie now, being the only son now?”
“You are quick. Aye, but I rarely go up there. So they run the household and estate in my stead. It is a fine place to raise little ones. And where are you from?” he added casually.
Kate slid him a sour look. ”I am Highland.”
“Will you tell me where, now that I have told you something of where I live?’
She shook her head mutely, feeling a little stab of guilt; after all, he had shared with her, and she had the sense he did not do that freely. She took a sip of cold ale from her pewter cup.
“Well then. And wherever you live, whatever your name, I suppose you still know nothing of Spanish weapons in the Highlands?” He spoke low and deliberately, one finger tracing a wet ring on the table surface.
“I have no information for you, as I have said.”
He leaned in, shoulder to shoulder, his breath stirring her hair. His solid warmth, his presence, plunged through her, and for a moment she yearned for him, for freedom, for more. “Lass, tell me at least one of your secrets, or we will both run out of time, and the Jacobite cause with us.”
She stared, stunned. “The Cause? What do you mean?”
He began to speak but glanced up as Jean approached. Kate frowned a little, wishing she knew what he wanted of her, and suddenly wondering what he truly thought about Jacobites, hidden weapons, and captive female spies.
“All done here?” Jean had the baby with her again, swathed in a plaid blanket, and she moved as she spoke, soothing the child.
“Aye, thank you,” Alec said.
“The food was excellent,” Kate added. “Your wee one is awake again?”
“Aye, and fussy too, but there is no one to watch him but myself. My brother Davey helps in the tavern room at night, but he is out courting.”
Kate nodded, realizing that Jean had little help at the inn. Jean’s father was not to be seen, nor was there another servant, and there were still several patrons even at that late hour.
Alec glanced at Kate. “We had best go upstairs—my love. We are both weary, and we will need an early start tomorrow.”
Love.The soft word sent a delicious shiver through her. “Perhaps we should wait to be sure Jack MacDonald arrives safely,” she said.
“I will save him a dish of stew,” Jean offered, reaching for their pewter plates. Kate stacked them with her free hand to help out, her roped hand wrapped in Alec’s fingers below the table level.
“Kate,” Fraser murmured, tightening his hand on hers.
Glancing up, she saw three redcoat soldiers entering the inn. “No,” she whispered. “Is there another way we can leave the room?”
“Too late,” he murmured.
“Och, more patrons,” Jean said. “Soldiers, too, and Da’s gone to his bed. I will need to see to them.” The child fussed against her, and she swayed. “Captain, you will want to speak with them?”
“Not necessary,” he said quickly. “Go on, Jean. My wife can watch the babe while you tend to your work.” Alec prodded Kate with an elbow.
“Let me take him for a bit,” Kate said, suddenly realizing what Alec intended. The soldiers were not searching for a young mother.
“Och, my thanks. I will be back. If you would like to take him upstairs, I will fetch him soon.” Jean slid the child out of the wrapped shawl that held him and set him carefully in the crook of Kate’s left arm, smoothing the bunting he wore. “There, babbie, I will be right back.” She smiled at Kate and turned away to greet the soldiers.
Kate looked at Alec in alarm, awkwardly supporting the infant in one arm, her other hand still bound to Alec. “I cannot hold this child securely like this,” she hissed, while she balanced the bundled baby, who was surprisingly heavy for all he was small, and who squirmed a good deal. “And you know I will not run off with Jeanie’s bairn in my arms and the soldiers just there,” she clipped out.
“Aye.” Beneath the table, he untied the rope and stuffed its length inside his jacket. Then he lifted and draped the generous folds of her plaid so that it shadowed her face. “Stay quiet.”
“Tell that to the wee lad,” she said, as the baby began to cry and squirm. “I have no experience with bairns.” With her hand free, she was better able to pat the jiggle the child in her arms, but to no avail.
