by Sabrina York
“Thank you.” He kissed her again, his expression solemn, and then it broke into a grin. “It will be difficult to keep your secret from him. He’s a clever man.” This, he said with a teasing tone.
“I shall attempt to be verra boyish.”
Daniel chuckled and then winced as she drew her leg over his erection. And yes, he had one. Again. Her smile blossomed.
No doubt they would be tired indeed come morning.
She didn’t care. Because she’d been given a great gift. Her time with him was not done. And that was a magnificent thing.
It was early the next morning when they rose and prepared to undertake the next leg of their journey to the north. Daniel was exhausted—he had not slept much—but he was filled with an invigorating anticipation to see his new home, and a delight that he would be with Pippin, which made up for it.
He and Pippin found Grant in the common rooms, eating breakfast, and after Daniel ordered their mounts to be readied, they joined him. He introduced Pippin as his traveling companion and nothing more. Grant didn’t seem to have an inkling that she was anything other than what she presented. A young boy traveling north.
She was quiet during the meal other than to make token attempts at conversation; he could only assume she was tired as well.
It took all of his attention to remember not to kiss her or stroke her hand or put his arm around her.
This journey might well be a trial indeed.
He contemplated just telling Grant the truth about her; he doubted he had the wherewithal to keep up the subterfuge for very long.
The sun had not yet risen and the trails of morning fog wreathed through the street as the small party headed for the stables where their mounts awaited. As they neared, Grant’s steps stalled. His eyes narrowed. He approached Pippin’s horse and held out a hand. The mare nuzzled him. His gaze darkened as it met Daniel’s.
“Is this your horse?” he asked in a sharp voice.
“Nae. The grey is mine. This is Pippin’s.”
Grant’s attention whipped to her with such ferocity, she stepped back. “And where did you come by such a beautiful animal?” He attempted a casual stance, but his intensity hummed.
Pippin pressed her lips together and then said, “A friend gave her to me.”
“Oh, really?” Grant’s tone made the hair rise on Daniel’s nape. He stepped forward, to put himself between them, even as Grant added, “Do you know what they do to horse thieves, boy?”
It was frightening the way she paled. The way something that could have been guilt flickered over her features. It made Daniel’s gut coil. It would be bad enough to discover that one were abetting a horse thief. Even worse to think that his Pippin might have committed a hangable offense.
“I dinna steal the horse,” she snapped. “I only borrowed it.”
Before he could stay the words, he said, “The way you borrowed the apples?”
She shot him a look that made him flinch. It was threaded with a wounded outrage. She crossed her arms and glared from one man to the other. “A friend let me borrow the horse.”
“This horse?” Grant’s brow furrowed.
“Aye. This horse.”
Grant eased closer. There was a predatory glint in his eye that made Daniel’s belly lurch. “Which friend?” And when Pippin’s expression became mutinous, he added, “Best tell me, boy. Because I know this horse like I know the back of my hand, and I know for a fact she doesna belong to you. Tell me who loaned her to you or I will call the constable and have you arrested for thievery.”
The bloody hell he would. Daniel bristled. His fists closed. He opened his mouth to object, but then Pippin spoke. Only two words, but they poleaxed him.
“Chelsea Grant.”
Holy God. Grant’s sister.
She knew Grant’s sister?
How on earth did she know Grant’s sister?
Grant reared back, apparently as stunned as Daniel.
Pippin riffled in her bag and pulled out a paper, which she waved. “I have a letter.”
Eyes narrowed, Grant snatched the parchment from her hand and scanned it. As he read, he stilled. His lips parted; his jaw dropped. He glanced at Pippin and scoured her with an intense scrutiny, then shot a look at Daniel and paled. His lips worked. He gestured in Pippin’s general direction, sputtering, “But…but…but…”
She propped her hands on her hips and blew out a breath. “It was Chelsea’s idea.”
Grant raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it irreparably. “Good God. That does sound like her.” And then, “Does he know?” For some reason, Grant nodded in Daniel’s direction.
It was then he realized that the letter had revealed her spurious gender.
“He knows,” he said in a growl.
She shot a look at him and his bile surged…because the look she sent him was one of chagrin. Possibly pity. She lapped at her lips. “He doesna know…everything.”
Daniel’s pulse surged. He nearly swallowed his tongue. “What do you mean, I doona know everything?” Of any man in Scotland, hell, in the British Isles, the world, he should be the one to know everything about her. He should be the only one.
Grant crooked a brow at Pippin and when she nodded, he handed the letter over. Daniel read it quickly and…
God.
Oh God.
The earth dropped out from beneath him. His knees locked and he nearly crumbled.
Charles, darling.
Please take charge of my dear friend, Fia Lennox, who has found herself in dire straits since the death of her brother in Waterloo.
The first thing that occurred to him was that her name was Fia. It was a lovely name. But then, there on the heels of it…Lennox.
She was Fia Lennox.
Dear God.
I know you understand her circumstance and that, if the tables had been turned, if you had died instead of Lieutenant Lennox, you would want the same protection for me.
Daniel’s fingers closed on the letter. He stared at Pippin—Fia—through a shimmering haze. “Your brother was Lieutenant Lennox?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but lord help him, he needed some confirmation from her. Something.
She nodded. “I’m sorry I dinna tell you, Daniel.”
Something in his gut lurched. “You knew?”
“When I saw the chessman. Aye. I knew it was Graeme’s.”
Oh lord. He felt faint. Something howled in his head. It might have been the devil laughing.
Damn the house in Dunbeath. Damn any pittance of inheritance. None of that would make any difference at all. None of that could change anything at all. No fortune, not even a fucking castle could make up for the fact that he was not worthy of her and never would be.
Because he was a horrible man.
He had seduced his best friend’s sister—his innocent sister—a girl he was honor-bound to protect.
Hell. He had not merely seduced her. He had debauched her. On the ground. In an orchard. In a bathtub. Time and time again.
And she? She had given herself to the man who was responsible for her brother’s death. When she realized the truth of it—as surely she would—she would walk away and never look back.
And he couldn’t blame her.
Funny how one little revelation could change everything.
The swiftness of it, the absolute and utter finality of it, made Fia’s head spin.
The look on Daniel’s face left no doubt in her mind she’d been right to keep her true identity from him. And wrong at the same time. The little lie had bought her a little more time with him, but it was clear he was done with her.
His jaw had firmed, his features tightened, his nostrils pinched. The revulsion in his expression as he studied her with cold eyes was horrifying.
Even worse, there was no chance to speak with him about it. About anything.
Once Charles realized who she was, and assumed responsibility for her, he didn’t waste any time becoming dictatorial. Chelsea had warned h
er, but Fia hadn’t realized just how overbearing he could be.
The first thing he did was insist—insist—she not ride Blaze. He rented a carriage and tied the mare to the back and nothing Fia said would change his mind. Not even her insistence that she preferred to ride.
“Nonsense,” he said in response.
He said that a lot.
Fia didn’t like the carriage. She didn’t like the way it jolted on the rutted road, she didn’t care for the isolation and boredom—as both the men continued to ride—and she most especially did not care for the smell. But when she opened the window and poked her head out, Charles scolded her.
Scolded her.
She was a grown woman, for pity sake. Chelsea should have put that in the letter.
He even had the temerity to suggest buying her proper clothes, but Fia put her foot down at that. For one thing, trousers were much more comfortable when traveling.
Beyond all that, Fia was frustrated. She wanted to speak to Daniel—in private. His reaction, when he’d realized who she was, who her brother was, had ripped her to shreds. Fear raked her. Fear that he was furious with her for keeping that secret, fear that he wouldn’t be able to face her now that he knew. Fear that he was in pain. With each step, each breath, he drifted further and further away.
But there was no opportunity for conversation. For one thing, he rode outside, and for another, Charles was ever present, hovering over her like a father hen.
When they stopped at the first inn in Urray, Charles bustled her in as Daniel tended to the horses. Chelsea’s brother had Fia ensconced in a private room with supper and a bath before she knew what had happened. And while she did appreciate the bath, it was hardly glorious. She was all alone. She wasn’t even allowed to dine with the men. Charles insisted the common rooms in the evenings were not a fit place for a woman of her stature.
The argument that Fia no longer had any stature didn’t seem to penetrate his thick skull.
She would have crept to Daniel’s room once the shadows of night fell, but she overheard the conversation between Charles and the innkeeper, and she knew her two traveling companions were sharing a chamber.
Damn.
Damn and blast.
Frustration railed.
She tried to force herself to sleep so she could rise early, preferably before Charles, and have a chance to talk to Daniel alone, but she couldn’t. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling terribly alone and bereft, trying desperately not to notice the music and laughter wafting up from below.
At least someone was having fun.
The Urray inn was a busy one. The dining hall was bustling and filled with rough and ready men tucking into a hearty meal. Daniel and Grant were no different, although Daniel found he had little appetite. While he was thankful Charles had insisted Fia stay in her room and away from this boisterous crowd, he missed her.
It occurred to him that he might just as well get used to the misery.
Their glorious affair was over. He tried not to think on the fact it should never have happened in the first place. He tried to ignore the howling evidence of his perfidy.
It occurred to him, rather belatedly, that he should have pressed her for her real name when he realized she wasn’t a boy. Hell, he should have pressed her for the name of her dead brother when they spoke of Waterloo. But in truth, he hadn’t asked because he hadn’t wanted to know her brother’s identity. At the time, he’d been wreathed in apprehension that the name would be a familiar one and that would have scraped him raw.
As it turned out, it would have been familiar indeed.
Had he known she was Lennox’s sister, he would never have touched her. He wasn’t sure if he should curse his ignorance or celebrate it.
“Well,” Grant said as he lifted his tankard of ale. The word sliced between them like a saber.
Daniel tried not to flinch at his tone. “Well.”
His friend pinned him with a sharp look. “How long have you been traveling with her?”
Ah yes. He knew this was coming. It had probably been simmering all day. “A week. A little more.”
“And?”
Holy God. Was Grant looking for a confession? He would not get one. For one thing, it was none of his damn business. Daniel narrowed his eyes and snapped, “And what?”
“I see the way she looks at you.”
“And how is that?”
Grant snorted. “She’s besotted.”
Was she? What a lovely prospect.
Grant’s glare, not so much. “I consider myself her guardian now. The letter and all,” he said, though this was hardly a shock, given his proprietary manner with her; it made Daniel’s hackles rise. If anyone had call to be proprietary with her, it was he.
“She is her own woman.”
“I’m aware of that.” Grant smiled, but it wasn’t a smile. Not really. “I think it only fair to warn you. I intend to be diligent in my protection of her.”
Daniel bristled. He hated being warned. Especially about this. About her. Besides, he had been diligent in his protection of her—most of the time—and he resented the inference that he had not.
Grant ignored his outrage. Though it was possible he hadn’t noticed it. It had been turned inward, after all. “She is Lennox’s sister.” Daniel hardly needed reminding. It still howled through his soul. All day, he’d struggled to make some peace with it. “That alone marks her as a woman to be treated with honor.”
“I have treated her with honor.” Something of a lie.
“I’m sure you have, Sinclair. You always were an honorable man.” Thank God Grant’s intensity eased. “But given the glances flying between you, I felt it needed to be said.”
Was it wrong for his impatience to simmer so? Were roles reversed, he’d be grilling Grant with the same rhetoric. “And now that it’s said?”
His friend shrugged. “We drop it.”
Excellent. Daniel didn’t want to hear about it, think about it, stew about it anymore. He refilled their tankards. He nearly spilled the pitcher when Grant said, “So, how did the two of you come to travel together?”
Hell. So much for dropping it. “She was robbed and had no money for food. I fed her.” There. That was honorable.
“I see.” Grant glanced down and traced the lip of his glass. “Did she tell you how she came to be traveling alone on the road? The letter dinna say.”
“She dinna share much of that, other than to say she was running away from a place she dinna want to be. She, ah, mentioned being accosted there.”
Grant’s muscles bunched. “At the school? At Dunready’s?”
“I assume.”
“Hell.” His expression went feral. “My sister is at that school.”
“You’d best ask her about it.”
Grant nearly growled. “You’d best believe I shall.”
The conversation faltered then, which was a blessing…and a curse. For the rest of the evening and well into the night, Grant was in a foul mood. Neither of them got much sleep at all, but for very different reasons.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Fia tried to wake up early, with the hopes of finding Daniel alone in the common rooms, but she failed. For one thing, Daniel wasn’t there. For another, Charles already was. He sat at a table by the fire, attacking a plate of ham and eggs as though it were a dread enemy in desperate need of hacking. He looked like a disgruntled beast, with a tight, fierce expression and hair that stuck up in all sorts of wayward directions. Dark circles arced beneath his eyes and he grumbled to himself under his breath.
She considered taking another table, but Charles saw her and waved her over. When she hesitated he glowered.
As she took her seat, he pinned her with a look; she winced at his intensity.
“Fia,” he barked with no preamble whatsoever. “Why did you leave Dunready’s?”
She blinked. Annoyance rippled in her gut. “Good morning to you too,” she said in a syrupy voice. A maid brought
her a plate and she lit in. Charles’s frown hardly dissuaded her at all.
“Good morning. Why did you leave Dunready’s?”
She sighed. “Must we discuss this now?”
“We must.”
“I’m eating.”
“Sinclair said you were accosted.”
Fia pointed at her plate with her fork. “Eat-ing.”
“I must know. Is Chelsea in danger?”
Of a sudden, her irritation with him evaporated. His fury wasn’t directed at her. He was simply worried about his sister. As he should be.
Fia set down her fork. “Chelsea is quite safe, Charles. He would never bother her. Or any of the other girls. ’Tis only the servants who have to worry.”
Charles made a strangled sound. “He?” And then, “He who?”
“Blackbottom’s nephew. He has an unfortunate penchant for taking what he wants from the helpless within his reach.”
His brow darkened. His fists closed. “I canna have my sister at an establishment that employs such a creature.”
Fia tried not to laugh, but it burst from her anyway.
This earned her a scowl. “What is so funny, pray tell?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Judging from what the other servant girls told me, such creatures are everywhere. They see the working class as fair game.”
“That is utter ballocks.”
Fia stiffened her back and folded her hands in her lap. She met his eye. “Is it?”
The flush rising on his cheeks made clear he knew it was not. It was not ballocks in the slightest. “I shall bring Chelsea home at once.”
Was it wrong to feel a trill of excitement at that? She’d missed Chelsea these past weeks. It would be lovely to see her again.
Daniel joined them before Fia could respond, and he stole all her attention. As horrible as Charles looked this morning, Daniel looked worse. It was as though neither man had slept a wink.
“Good morning, Daniel,” she said. “How did you sleep?”
