The Master Of Strathburn

by Amy Rose Bennett

  The man returned his dirk back to his belt. ‘You are a brave lass, Jessie Munroe,’ he said, his eyes returning to hers. She thought there might even be a hint of admiration in the deep blue depths.

  To her annoyance, she felt her cheeks grow hot beneath his close scrutiny. But before she could gather her addled thoughts and respond, the huntsman continued, the warm baritone of his voice as soft as a caress. ‘Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jessie, but you also have a rather large splinter at your temple that should probably be removed.’

  His gaze moved to her forehead as he reached slowly forward and lifted her hair away from the left side of her face. For the first time Jessie noticed her brow was stinging. She raised her right hand and gently probed the splinter, wincing slightly. Her temple was sticky with blood.

  The huntsman gently tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s at your hairline and the wound is quite superficial so it shouldn’t leave any noticeable scar to mar your lovely face.’

  He thinks I am attractive? Surely he’s jesting.

  Even though she was still shivering, Jessie felt her cheeks begin to positively burn at his remark. ‘I suspect you must be a wee bit blind,’ she said shakily, attempting a smile. ‘But nevertheless, I’m ready. Go ahead an’ do yer worst.’ When she closed her eyes to submit to his ministrations, she thought she heard the stranger trying to suppress a chuckle.

  Once the splinter was removed, the man stood up. He was tall, Jessie noted, very tall. Broad shouldered and lean with long, muscular legs. Even if she’d been able, she doubted she could outrun him if she needed to.

  ‘Jessie, I’m just going to leave you here for a moment to help Tobias with the horses.’ He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her. Jessie instantly noticed the smell of damp wool combined with the astringency of pine needles—and another note—the slightly musky scent of the man himself. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, she rather thought she liked it.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he added, bending to retrieve his musket. And then he was gone.

  The mist was growing thicker in the copse. The chill dampness seemed to seep into Jessie’s very bones. Shivering, she drew the huntsman’s coat more closely around herself, trying to absorb his residual warmth. She closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. It was like the fog had penetrated her mind as well.

  As she hovered on the edge of consciousness, she was suddenly plagued by doubts again. She hated that she was now reliant on this handsome stranger. It was unsettling to be at such a disadvantage. It struck her again that she really knew nothing about this man, not even his name. Although the redhaired lad, Tobias, had called him my lord, an obvious mark of respect. But whether the huntsman was a nameless lord or a nameless poacher it really didn’t matter given her present predicament. Refusing his offer to take her to the hunting lodge would be foolhardy indeed.

  She prayed her initial instincts to trust him were right.

  ‘Jessie, you need to wake up, lass.’ The huntsman was back again, speaking softly by her ear, one of his hands gently squeezing her right shoulder. ‘The horses are here.’

  With an effort she prised her lids open.

  ‘Do you think you can stand?’

  Although dazed, Jessie found her voice. ‘I’m no’ sure. I’ll try.’

  ‘Good lass.’

  The man slid his arm around her waist to help her up, but as she started to rise, her temporarily forgotten sprained ankle protested. The sharp, shooting pain was so great she cried out in agony and clutched at the man’s arm and shoulder. Her head swam with dizziness and dark spots appeared before her eyes.

  ‘My ankle … I … I sprained it earlier,’ she gasped.

  The man’s mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. ‘Ah, that explains the missing boot. Do you know where you left it?’

  Jessie looked about and then gestured toward a pile of leaves by the trunk of the rowan. ‘It’s in my satchel, just over there.’

  Still supporting Jessie, the man reached down and snagged the strap with his free hand. Then without another word, he gently swept her up into his arms, as if she were but a child, and carried her out of the copse and across the rocky burn to where Tobias was waiting with two horses.

  My goodness, he’s strong. As the feelings of faintness receded, Jessie became aware of the hard planes of the huntsman’s chest as he cradled her in his arms. He lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all, his hands lingering at her waist.

  ‘You’re not going to faint on me again now are you?’ he asked, concern creasing his brow.

  ‘Nay … I think I’ll be fine,’ she replied, avoiding his eyes as she grasped the pommel of the saddle. She was highly aware of the feel of his large, capable hands spanning her torso and was more than a little relieved when he released her to secure her satchel to one of his mount’s saddlebags.

  Thunder rumbled again, louder this time. Jessie shivered as a sudden gust of wind tore at them. Despite the drop in temperature, she clumsily shrugged off the huntsman’s coat and offered it to him. ‘I’m sure you would like yer coat back, Lord …’ She looked down at the handsome stranger, a question in her eyes. After everything that had happened, she really wanted to know this man’s name.

  He met her gaze and smiled, the attractive, undeniably roguish tilt to his mouth making her blush all over again. ‘I’m flattered that you think me so distinguished. But I’m simply Mr Robert Burnley. And you must call me Rob.’ His fingers brushed hers as he took his coat. ‘Thank you, Jessie.’

  The brief contact made her skin tingle in the oddest way and to her consternation, her blush deepened. What on earth is the matter with me?

  Mr Burnley, or Rob as he insisted on being called, slipped the coat back on then unsettled her yet again when he pulled a woollen plaid from the saddlebag. It was the hunting tartan of Clan Grant—a pattern of blue, green and black checks. Jessie had seen a similar plaid blanket in Lord Strathburn’s study. The tartan worn by the local Black Watch regiment also had the same sett.

  Rob noticed her frown. ‘I used to serve in the Watch hereabouts,’ he said by way of explanation as he wrapped the plaid around himself with sure efficiency.

  A soldier then. Her earlier observation had been correct … If Rob could be taken at his word. But even if he had served in the Watch, that was no guarantee she was in safe hands. Jessie had heard many a terrible story about the conduct of both dragoons and Watchmen during and after the Rebellion—tales of rape and pillage and murder that made her feel sick to the stomach. She prayed Rob was the man of honour he appeared to be and didn’t turn out to be a violent brute of a soldier—or a man like Simon.

  All further coherent thought scattered when, with easy grace, Rob swung up into the saddle behind her and put one of his strong arms around her to hold her steady. She noticed he was careful to avoid contact with her wounded arm. His other hand lazily flicked the reins and their horse moved forward toward the sea of impenetrable fog that was gathering on the floor of the glen. Tobias trailed along somewhere behind them.

  It wasn’t long before a light, icy drizzle began to fall. Jessie shivered and at these close quarters, Rob immediately noticed her discomfort as well. He shifted his position slightly in the saddle and wrapped his plaid around her, binding her closer. Part of her knew she should be shocked at the flagrant intimacy of being pulled against him, but in truth, she was glad to be the recipient of the heat emanating from Rob’s lean body.

  To divert her attention away from the disconcerting yet strangely welcome sensation, Jessie focused again on the conundrum that was Mr Robert Burnley.

  ‘Are you acquainted with the Earl o’ Strathburn an’ his family, Mr Burnley?’ she ventured. She hadn’t used his Christian name as he’d requested. She felt she needed to try to return some formality to the situation, given there was nothing remotely appropriate about the way they were seated. With each swaying step of the horse, her back and rump pressed and rubbed up against the man.


  There was a short silence. Rob’s fingers clenched around the reins but he soon answered smoothly enough. ‘Aye, I am. Although it has been some time since I have been in the area. But I’m sure the earl won’t mind that I’m presuming on an old acquaintanceship with the family in using his lodge. And you must remember to call me Rob.’

  They both lapsed into silence again. Jessie’s mind drifted between half-formed thoughts and questions she should ask about the exact nature of Rob’s association with the earl and his family—for instance, was he an old friend of Simon’s?—but she was suddenly finding it difficult to think about anything except her own immediate discomfort. The unsettling physicality of the man behind her, the persistent pain of her injuries and the bone-chilling rain, were all beginning to wear on her.

  Several quiet minutes passed before Rob startled her out of her fog of fatigue with a question of his own. ‘What were you doing up here all alone, Jessie?’

  Her pulse began to hammer and her mouth suddenly grew dry. What should she tell him? How much of her situation should she disclose? ‘I … I was out walking … on my way to Grantown-on-Spey … I wanted to see the countryside. But then as you know, I sprained my ankle.’ Her explanation sounded weak, implausible even to her own ears.

  ‘Mmm, I see.’ Rob paused and the taut moment stretched. ‘So do you reside nearby? You too seem familiar with Lord Strathburn and his family.’

  Rob’s tone of voice was neutral but even so, Jessie fought to control another surge of panic. She needed to think clearly. Although she was alone and essentially defenceless, perhaps if she hinted at an association with the earl’s family rather than revealing that she was only the factor’s daughter, Rob would be aware that she had connections in high places. So far, he had not behaved in an untoward manner; however, she hoped that disclosing this information would afford her some additional measure of protection during the night ahead.

  Although her acquaintanceship with Lord Strathburn had not stopped Simon.

  ‘I … I have been staying at … Lochrose Castle for several weeks,’ she stammered, silently cursing her incoherence; it made her sound like the nervous liar she was.

  Rob’s deep voice was at her ear. ‘And will not the earl and his family be expecting you home then? I wonder why they have let you roam so far by yourself.’

  * * *

  Jessie did not respond. Tension seemed to be vibrating through her whole body; her spine had grown stiff, her shoulders had tensed—indeed, Robert could feel her shivering against him. He’d obviously terrified the girl into silence by making such a point of her isolation. Part of him regretted that this relentless line of questioning was destroying the fragile camaraderie that seemed to be developing between them. But he needed to know if Simon or anyone else would miss the girl and would come looking for her … and in doing so, find him.

  ‘Aye, I expect Lord and Lady Strathburn will be worried by now. They may send out the Watch to look for me,’ Jessie eventually replied.

  What a brave, clever lass she was. ‘Yes, I’m sure they will, Jessie,’ Robert remarked, if only to reassure her that he meant her no harm. Other than what he’d already inflicted on her, albeit accidently.

  And all because I had a stupid bloody craving for venison.

  He couldn’t help but admire her strategy of hinting she had powerful allies who would be looking out for her welfare. Perhaps she was a ward of his father’s. In that case, the Watch and other clansmen would definitely be sent out to search for her. He inwardly cursed. He really didn’t need this. But then, would the Watch or perhaps even Simon be out scouring these upland glens and corries on a diabolical evening like this? With any luck they’d wait until morning.

  The ride continued on at a painstakingly slow pace. The freezing rain grew steadily heavier and the scudding clouds of thick fog made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Every now and again, thunder growled and lightning briefly illuminated the clouds around them. The air was charged with strange currents.

  Robert wrapped his plaid tighter around himself and Jessie, in an effort to share his body heat with her, but it was all for naught. It wasn’t long before both of them were soaked and Jessie was quaking with cold and shock. Despite the abysmal conditions they were in, Robert was astounded to find himself being overtaken by a powerful physical reaction to having Jessie so close to his own body. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the soft, curved swell of her breast rubbing against the inside of his arm as he held her securely on his horse, or the press of her lower back and the firm roundness of her buttocks rocking rhythmically against his groin.

  Christ, what am I thinking? He prayed the girl—for judging by her looks she must be no more than nineteen or twenty—would not notice anything untoward as he began to swell.

  His thoughts continued to race rapidly as his horse trod steadfastly forwards through the driving sheets of rain. As he had done this morning, he wondered about the nature of the relationship between this heartbreakingly lovely young woman and Simon. It was puzzling that she had not mentioned any association with his half-brother when she had already openly acknowledged an acquaintance with Lord and Lady Strathburn. Although she had only provided the barest of facts on that score as well. He suddenly wondered why that should be so.

  Was she having an illicit love affair with Simon? Surely if she was in an acknowledged union with his brother, she would have said so.

  And what was she really doing out here alone, in the middle of nowhere, with only a satchel containing a few pieces of food, some guineas and underclothes? He’d discreetly looked into her bag before he’d secured it to the saddle. He found it difficult to believe that she’d been up here in this forbidding landscape for a pleasurable stroll.

  There had to be another reason. He considered again what he had witnessed between Jessie and Simon this morning by the loch. Perhaps they had arranged a clandestine rendezvous at the hunting lodge. That could explain Jessie’s foray up here. Indeed, Robert had used the lodge for such assignations a few times in his youth. It was secluded; the perfect place where lovers could meet without fear of being disturbed.

  However he again dismissed the notion that Simon would be anywhere about at the present moment. When he and Tobias had left the lodge mid-afternoon to go hunting, neither of them had seen a soul in the glen until they’d encountered Jessie. And unless Simon had changed dramatically in the last ten years, it was not likely that his lily-livered half-brother would be up here, particularly in this weather. He had neither the guts nor the stamina and would have turned his tail homeward at the first spot of rain for fear of catching a cold.

  The memory of Simon kissing Jessie savagely, possessively intruded into Robert’s mind again. Anger surged and he resisted the urge to pull Jessie harder against him. Don’t be an idiot, Robert. You don’t know her. She’s not yours.

  He had no idea why he was so envious of Simon’s claim on Jessie. But at this point, it would be useless to examine his completely irrational feelings. He needed to focus his energies on working out how this unexpected turn of events—injuring and now taking care of Jessie—would affect his plans to reunite with his father, and then ultimately his chance at securing a pardon. One thing was certain, given the appalling weather and Jessie’s condition, there was no possibility of him returning to Lochrose tonight.

  At long last Robert noticed the shadowy forms of trees through the driving rain and blanketing fog. They were not far from shelter now. Jessie’s head had lolled back against his shoulder some time ago. He suspected that she’d passed out rather than fallen asleep. Regardless of the risk to himself and now regrettably Tobias through association, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d taken the right course of action in assisting the girl. He couldn’t have left her at the burn, wounded and in shock. Especially not in this weather. Indeed on a night like this she could easily die from exposure.

  But the dilemma he still faced was, what was he going to do with Jessie now? Rescuing damsels in di
stress had not figured into his plans whatsoever; especially damsels that may be in league with his half-brother. She was undoubtedly a canny lass. Even though she had been in considerable pain and shock, she had unerringly noticed Tobias’s slip when the lad had referred to him as my lord. They both needed to be extremely careful about what they said around her. He would need to remind Tobias later to only ever refer to him as Rob.

  But that brought to mind the question, did Jessie know of the notorious Jacobite, Robert Grant—the long-lost Master of Strathburn and erstwhile Viscount Lochrose? That after all this time, he was still a wanted man with a price on his head? Now that he had returned, would she also see him as a direct threat to Simon’s future claim to the title of the Earl of Strathburn?

  He was not sure how far he could trust Jessie Munroe, if at all.

  Chapter Four

  When Jessie next opened her eyes, it was to find that she was soaking wet and the coldest she had ever been in her life. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably in her head and her arm and ankle both throbbed in time with her heartbeat. A scratchy woollen blanket covered her and her cheek lay against a greasy sheepskin rug. She must be at Lord Strathburn’s hunting lodge.

  Rob was directly in front of her, kneeling before a small fireplace as he prodded the logs and kindling with a poker to encourage the flames to take purchase. In the flickering light, she could see he was also dripping wet.

  Biting her lip to stop herself from whimpering, Jessie pushed herself up to a sitting position with her good arm. A wave of dizziness assailed her and the room—a bedroom by the look of it—tipped crazily for a moment, but then thankfully, everything righted itself. The small space was sparsely furnished with an armchair and a solid looking but simply carved four-poster bed. A large wooden chest stood at its foot.