Page 64 of Rose
Rose shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“That’s why I’ve brought her here,” Ian explained, arching his brow at Rose. “To learn how she came to be in London.”
Moira’s gaze darted between the two red-haired MacVies. She cleared her throat, clearly having sensed the current tension. “I will give ye some privacy to catch up.”
“Thank ye, Moira,” Ian said. “And would ye be a dear and send in Ramsay and the Englishman.”
“Aye,” Moira agreed. “I’ll send them in with full tankards. Ye both look like ye could use a drop.”
After Moira left, Ian turned to Rose and quickly said, “I kept yer…er…husband away so ye could meet Moira. She’s always wanted the chance. I don’t know how much he kens about the cause.”
“I’ve told Tristan nothing,” she said. “Not because I don’t trust him or worry that he wouldn’t be sympathetic to our cause. He has no love for his king or the ruling class. But I worried the knowledge could be dangerous, not just to him but also to his family.”
Ian nodded his approval.
“Quickly,” she said. “Before they come. Are ye and Ramsay here on a mission?”
He nodded. “We are.”
She squeezed his hand. “When I see our brothers again, can I tell them ye’re well?” she asked, feeling suddenly anxious for her wee brother’s safety. She was used to her brothers carrying out dangerous missions, but it never ceased to worry her. She knew they risked their lives, but they did it for the cause—they did it for Scotland.
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Do not fash yerself, Rose. I’ll be fine.”
A moment later the door swung open and Tristan and Ramsay came inside.
Rose looked at the three oversized men. “Yer all big as oxen,” she said, chuckling.
Ian motioned to the chair across from him. “Sit down,” he said to Tristan.
Tristan’s calm never wavered despite Ian’s harsh tone. Rose’s heart swelled with pride. A lesser man would have escalated the situation by taking offense. But she knew Tristan understood that, despite his size, Ian was only one and twenty and a protective brother.
Tristan sat across from Ian, giving her brother his attention, and after Ramsay set down four tankards of ale, he sat on Tristan’s left.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “Start from the beginning, Rose.”
She expelled a slow breath, her mind suddenly racing. She lifted her shoulders. “I do not ken how to begin.”
Ian brought his tankard to his lips but paused to say, “Start from the last time I saw ye, waving to me from the shores of our home.”
Rose took a deep breath. “I took the skiff ye made me and sailed away from home.”
Ian stood, bumping the table and spilling the ale. “What do ye mean, ye sailed away from home?”
She knew it had been a foolhardy thing to do. Still his tone made her defensive. “I wanted to do something, something different. I wanted to go exploring,” she explained.
Ian raked his hand through his red hair. “Are ye telling me Jack let ye sail off on yer own?”
Guilt weighed on her conscience. Rose shifted in her seat. “I didn’t exactly ask him.”
“Ye mean ye just left? Ye didn’t tell anyone?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I would never do that. I left a note.”
Ian’s eyes, the same blue as hers, widened in surprise. “What do ye mean ye left a bleeding note?”
She squared her shoulders. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Ye mean to tell me that right now Jack and the others have no idea where ye are?”
