Our son, Calla had said.Saints.Those simple words filled Rebbie with such gratitude, his throat tightened. "Don'tfashover Jamie's future."
"How can I not?" Her eyes pleaded with him to understand the magnitude.
"My father is a member of parliament. He's friends with most of the other members."
"But he hates me."
"Nay, he likes you. In fact, he's outside and he swore if I didn't kill Claybourne, he would."
"Oh." Her eyes widened.
Rebbie forced a reassuring smile, hoping it would help her relax. "He'll take care of it."
"Are you certain?" Calla searched his face.
"Of course." While it was true that his father hadn't liked her initially, he had come around in the last few days. And even if he couldn't officially claim Jamie as his grandson, he would still most likely do anything to help the lad.
"How could you come here alone and put yourself in such danger?" he asked, the rage and fear echoing through him again.
"I'm sure you know why. He threatened Jamie's future."
"Aye, but you could've waited for me to return toDraughon."
She shook her head. "I thought you'd never forgive me."
Before he could respond, a knock sounded at the open door. "Are you both well?" Lachlan asked, his gaze scanning the room.
"Aye. Calla was cut, but I'm certain the bleeding will stop soon. Were any of the men hurt?"
"Naught more than a few cuts and bruises. More guards came after us but we overpowered them. I see you downed Claybourne."
"Aye, he got what he deserved."
"I applaud your aim." Smirking, Lachlan turned and headed down the corridor again.
Rebbie kissed Calla on the forehead. "Thank God you're safe. Let me help you get dressed." He closed the door and found her clothes on the floor. No smock; it was lying in shreds on the bed. Damn Claybourne. He glanced at the whoreson, making certain he was indeed dead.
Rebbie helped her with the remainder of her clothes, being careful of the bandage on her forearm. The blood was already soaking through. After she was dressed, he wrapped another strip of the sheet around it tightly.
"There now." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "We'll take this sheet for more bandages."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Rebbie," she whispered.
"Shh. All is well now." He embraced her, wishing he could tell her how much he loved her, and that he would do anything for her, but words were elusive, and he had no time to think of the right ones. He wanted to get her out of here before the authorities showed up.
He glanced into the corridor and found his friends peering down at several ofClaybourne'smen sprawled upon the floor, blood pooling around their bodies. They'd learned the hard way that no one messed with Highlanders or their women.
"Come." Rebbie lifted Calla into his arms and proceeded out.
Lachlan turned. "How is her arm?"
"The bleeding has almost stopped. Let's get the hell out of here."
"My trunk," Calla said.
"What?"
"I have a trunk of clothing somewhere that I need to bring with us." Her anxious gaze darted about. "It contains the deed to my estate."
