A Traitor's Touch

by Helen Dickson

  Bending down to her, he reached out his hand and gently cupped her chin, turning her face up to his. Now the grime had been washed away he studied her with fresh eyes. Feeling compelled and at liberty to look his fill, he felt his heart contract, not having grasped the full reality of her loveliness until that moment. The cropped, red-gold hair framed a creamy-skinned visage. The lips were soft and sensuous. She was remarkably lovely. Her beauty was at once wild and delicate—as dainty as sculpted porcelain, her expression full of caprice. But as he watched her, what struck him most was her innocence. Though her slanting, sparkling green eyes fringed by thick, black lashes hinted at untapped wantonness, he could feel the freshness of her spirit—a tangible force as golden as the highlights in her hair. She was the kind of woman who made a man want to fall on his knees at her feet or run like the devil.

  His scorching perusal suddenly became too much for Henrietta. Hot, embarrassed colour stained her cheeks as he met her gaze with a querying, uplifted brow.

  ‘I would be obliged if you would please stop looking at me in that way. Anyone would think you hadn’t seen a woman before. Your critical eye pares and inspects me as if I was a body on a dissecting slab.’

  ‘Does it?’ Simon murmured absently, continuing to look at her, at the soft lips and glorious eyes.

  Her flush deepened. ‘I have imperfections enough without you looking for more. Please stop it,’ she demanded quietly. ‘You are being rude.’

  ‘Am I?’ he said, his attention momentarily diverted from her enchanting face.

  ‘Yes. And if you persist I shall be forced to shout for Annie.’

  Her words brought a slow, teasing smile to his lips and his strongly marked brows were slightly raised, his eyes suddenly glowing with humour. ‘I apologise. But I cannot help looking at you when for the past nine days I believed we were of the same gender.’

  Hot-faced and perplexed, Henrietta almost retorted that she was not a rabbit in the sights of his gun, but she halted herself in time. She had never known a man to be so provoking. She was suddenly shy of him. There was something in his eyes that made her feel it was impossible to look at him. There was also something in his voice that brought so many new and conflicting themes in her heart and mind that she did not know how to speak to him.

  The effect was a combination of fright and excitement and she must put an end to it. She was in danger of becoming hypnotised by that silken voice and those mesmerising blue eyes.

  ‘Are you quite sure I can’t assist you with your bath?’

  ‘Quite sure,’ she stated. ‘Now go away.’

  A chuckle started low in his chest. ‘I should have given you a bath when I first met you.’ Releasing her chin, he straightened up. ‘Come, enough wallowing in the suds. I’ve brought you a toddy. Drink it and I’ll send Annie in to help you get dressed.’

  ‘I’ve a mind to wallow a while longer,’ she answered in a voice dull with fatigue. ‘Could you pour that pitcher of warm water into my bath, please?’ she asked, indicating the receptacle on the floor where Annie had left it. She squinted up at him as tiny runnels trickled through her lashes. ‘I would like to give my hair another wash.’

  Simon did as she bade and poured the water into the tub, catching a glimpse of slender white limbs beneath the suds.

  ‘Be careful you don’t burn yourself,’ Henrietta patronisingly retorted when some of the water splashed his dry breeches.

  ‘I must learn to be cautious of wayward lads and pitchers of hot water,’ he answered, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her remark.

  He watched her rub an eye with bunched fingers, much like a child who found it hard to stay awake. ‘Are you quite certain I can’t be of some assistance?’ he persisted, his voice as soft as silk.

  Henrietta felt a sudden quiver run through her, a sudden quickening within as if something came to life, something that had been asleep before. ‘No—thank you,’ she replied quickly. ‘I think I can manage. Now go away and leave me alone. I will not get out until you have left the room.’

  ‘I’ll not be far away.’ A wicked smile crept over his lips. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Henrietta,’ he murmured, his eyes agleam with a very personal sort of challenge. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to start behaving sensibly now.’

  Henrietta stiffened at Simon’s smooth taunting, but she could hardly take offence at his mild accusation after duping him into believing she was a youth.

  As he was about to slip behind the screen he turned and looked at her once more. ‘If I don’t see you again tonight, I must warn you that the old timbers creak and groan, so don’t be alarmed if you hear anything untoward during the night. The house is called Barradine, by the way, and it belongs to me.’

  With his gaze looking into her large, liquid, bright eyes, she was oblivious to the sight she presented to him. The pure, sweet bliss of her spurred his heart. She was too damned lovely to be true and he could not believe that he had not seen through her masquerade. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the bath, and her hair—all the wonderful shades of red and gold formed a cap of brilliant silk curls, with adorable damp tendrils clinging and curling around her face. The very sight of her wrenched his vitals in a painful knot, and the urge to go to her and pull her into his arms savaged his restraint. If she knew the full force of that emotion he held in check, she would tremble and take to the road on the morrow without him.

  ‘Sleep well, Henrietta. We have much to discuss in the morning.’

  * * *

  Henrietta’s eyelids fluttered slowly open as the morning light intruded and roused her to awareness. The dark blue velvet bed hangings had been drawn back, allowing the light to penetrate her world. A cheerful fire crackled and danced in the hearth.

  Henrietta elbowed herself up the bed and tucked the pillows behind her. A rattle of dishes came from outside the door, and she clutched the sheets beneath her chin as Annie entered the chamber, carrying a covered tray. Her face broke into a smile when she found the occupant of the bed awake and sitting up.

  ‘Oh, you’re awake, I see.’ The friendliness in her voice was as noticeable as the warmth in her eyes and smile. ‘His lordship said you would be tired after the journey and your ordeal in the storm yesterday and to leave you to sleep in.’

  ‘His lordship being Lord Tremain.’

  ‘Aye, miss. That’s right.’ Annie brought the tray to the bed and removed the cover to reveal a pot of tea and an appetising plate of ham and eggs and freshly baked bread and creamy butter. ‘You look like a young lady who could do with a hearty breakfast. You ate nothing when you arrived, so tuck in and enjoy it.’

  ‘I will. It looks delicious, Annie. I have to say I’m quite ravenous.’

  ‘Eat up then. I’ll see to it that hot water is brought for you to wash and I’ve already laid out the clothes the master has provided.’

  ‘But—what has happened to the clothes I was wearing when I arrived?’

  ‘They’re in the laundry, miss.’

  ‘I see,’ Henrietta murmured cautiously, casting a dubious eye over the female clothes draped over a chair. ‘I—I would prefer to wear my own clothes if you don’t mind, Annie.’

  ‘Oh, no, miss. The master was most firm about you dressing as a lady. When you’re ready I’ll come and help you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Henrietta conceded, reconciling herself to the master’s orders. ‘Then until my own clothes are fit to wear, I shall be happy to wear them.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Annie said, still smiling as she went out.

  * * *

  When she had eaten, hearing the clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobbles in the yard below her window, Henrietta went to look. There were half a dozen gentlemen, all finely garbed, all on horseback and wearing expressions of intent. Where they came from Henrietta did not know, but they entered Barradine with a purpose. It w
as all very mysterious and as usual Henrietta’s curiosity got the better of her.

  She turned her attention to the clothes laid out, surprised to find them remarkably grand. The undergarments were very fine, the gown apple-green damask trimmed at the hem with gold embroidery. A light grey shawl and a pair of dark green slippers completed the outfit.

  Her pleasure as she donned the dress was truly feminine. Before leaving the room she looked in the mirror and contemplated herself with some satisfaction. The dress might have been made for her. The bodice sat well on her slender waist and the colour emphasised the gold highlights in her hair. Draping the shawl about her shoulders, she pirouetted lightly and made for the door.

  She moved silently along the passageway to the top of the stairs, where she paused, standing in the shadows and looking down. The men were huddled together near the huge stone hearth, their worried looks and urgent conversation presaging some bad news. It had been declared that Charles Stuart, the son of the man James Stuart, who had named him Regent, giving him permission to act in his name, had been declared a rebel, a traitor, and a public enemy to the Commonwealth and of England, along with the abettors, agents and accomplices and public enemies.

  ‘What do you make of it?’ Simon asked from within their midst. ‘Tell me what you know. Will it come to a battle?’

  ‘Aye, I reckon it will,’ was one answer. ‘Against long odds and with the support of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, an army has been raised which numbers almost two thousand Scots. Sir John Cope, the general commanding the government forces in Scotland, commands less than four thousand in two regiments. He’s beset with problems.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘His senior cavalry officer has taken sick and he has a lack of gunners to man his artillery. Acting on advice from the government, Cope marched with his infantry to Fort Augustus in an attempt to overawe the Highland clans and nip any rebellion in the bud.’

  ‘And how have the clans reacted?’ Henrietta heard Simon ask.

  ‘Many are evading calls to take up arms on behalf of the government. Our agents have reported that on hearing Charles Stuart is preparing to oppose Cope at Corryarrack, Cope’s turned about and is now marching on Inverness.’

  ‘And the prince?’

  ‘He considered pursuing Cope, but instead he’s decided to march into the Lowlands, which Cope has left almost undefended. The last I heard was that he’s reached Perth.’

  ‘Then I’ll know where to find him when I ride north.’ He looked around at the faces of the men. ‘What will you do if it comes to conflict? Will you take up arms against King George?’

  ‘It’s not that I mind risking my life,’ said the man who had done most of the talking. ‘But if we fail and are captured, they will take my house and land, and I’ll not be there to protect my family.’

  ‘It’s the same for all of us,’ came a gruff reply. ‘But if we don’t do it now, the opportunity to bring the Bonnie Prince to his rightful place may never come again.’

  ‘Then let’s pray the conflict ends with Charles on the throne and it doesn’t come to such a pass.’

  Henrietta stood in the shadows as the men began to disperse. She felt numb and then consumed by panic, as her mind went over what had been said. If, as she intended, she continued on her journey to Inverness, then it was inevitable that she would come into contact with the government army.

  * * *

  The big case clock in the great hall was striking ten o’clock when she went down the curved oak stairs. Glancing at the windows, she saw the heavy clouds loitering overhead heralded more rain. Simon stood close to the hearth where a fire blazed, taking off the dank chill. In repose his expression was tense as he considered the information brought to him earlier.

  Displaying a calm she did not feel, Henrietta studied him surreptitiously as he watched her walk across the hall towards him. A world of feelings flashed for an instant across his set features when their eyes locked, but it was the expression of immense concern Henrietta saw that touched her the most, replaced at once by one of polite enquiry. His long, muscular frame was attired in the clothes he had been wearing the night before. He had the look of an adventurer and appeared most worldly, yet his whole body was tensed into a rigid line, as if he fought some private battle within himself.

  Despite the days they had spent on the road together, it was like coming face to face with a stranger. Now her masquerade had been stripped away their attitudes towards each other had changed completely and it concerned her, especially when those thoroughly blue eyes searched her own. She had not realised how brilliant and clear they were. In some mystical way they seemed capable of stripping the lies from whatever had passed before. It was all she could do to face his unspoken challenge and not retreat to the safety of her room.

  Chapter Four

  Simon watched Henrietta approach. Ever since he had left her he had tried not to think of her and to concentrate on the arrival of the men he had arranged to liaise with here at Barradine, but now he became consumed with anxiety and was unable to think of anything other than what he was to do with this young woman who had insinuated herself into his life and threatened to disrupt it.

  Last night when she had revealed her true sex he had been taken unawares and his sudden passion for her had been torn asunder by guilt and his conscience. He had lain awake almost the entire night. He could not stop thinking about her. When he shut his eyes she was there and when he opened them she stayed with him. Such sleeplessness was unusual for him. He rather hoped that in daylight she might not be as he remembered.

  He was mildly irritated with himself. He certainly did not need his life complicated by a woman. Perhaps the half light of the moment of her bathing had helped create a fantasy—but it wasn’t so. In daylight her charm seemed all the greater.

  Nothing was more obvious to Henrietta at that moment than those eyes that immediately took in every detail of her appearance. The clothes he had instructed Annie to pick out for her to wear belonged to his mother. The dress was a perfect fit and, as slender as she was, Henrietta was not without womanly curves. She was a sight that caused his heart to lurch in admiration and something else that appealed to his baser instincts.

  He must stop now, before things went too far for him to draw back. Because she was not the kind of sophisticated, worldly woman he usually sought it made her more alluring, more desirable. She was nothing like the glamorous, experienced women who knew how to please him, women who were mercenary and hell-bent on self-gratification, whose beds he sought only to leave the moment his ardour was spent.

  It could not continue. In the past hard logic and cold reason had always conquered his lust—with Henrietta he knew it would be different. He had to purge her out of his mind before he was completely beaten—and if he continued to have her near him he would lose the battle. He was in danger of becoming enamoured of her and he would not permit that. The stakes were too high.

  He tried to concentrate on the next stage of his journey, but in his state of relaxed ease he was more inclined to dwell on the amazing—and perverse—quirk of fate that had caused this girl to be ensconced in his house. It would have been far better if he were alone, but now that she was here he couldn’t just ignore her and pretend she wasn’t there.

  ‘Thank you for the clothes,’ Henrietta said. ‘Who do they belong to?’

  ‘My mother, but don’t concern yourself. I know she would be happy for you to wear them.’ He pulled two chairs close to the hearth. ‘Come and sit down. We need to talk.’ Silently she did as he bade, sitting awkwardly on the edge of her seat. He raised one brow in enquiry. ‘How are you feeling this morning? Better, I hope?’ he said, sitting across from her and lounging with one booted foot resting casually atop the opposite knee.

  ‘Yes—much better.’ He nodded, which left Henrietta wondering why he was adopting this cool, remote at
titude to her. Was it possible he was ashamed of the way he had behaved towards her when he had intruded on her bathing, or was his desire for her so great that he couldn’t bear to be close to her? Despite the complications it would bring, she secretly hoped it was the latter, but the way he was looking at her made her discount it. Her eyes met his.

  ‘You said you want to talk, Simon? I think I know what it’s about. I suspect you want me off your hands and deeply regret encumbering yourself with me in the first place.’

  Henrietta expected the words to get a reaction, but except for a hardening of his eyes and a muscle that began to twitch in his jaw, there was none.

  ‘What is done is done and I have to consider what sensible action to take. One thing is certain—you cannot continue on your journey alone and where I am going I cannot take you with me.’

  ‘So you are to dismiss me as though I am an untouchable.’

  Untouchable, Simon thought wretchedly. She was certainly that and must remain that way. While ever they remained in the same house she was too much of a threat to his sanity. Everywhere he turned she would be there to ensnare him and when she was absent his need to see her would make him seek her out. He was furious with himself for feeling like this—for wanting her. He’d never realised that sexual desire for a woman would become a complication. Better that they were apart altogether, before she disrupted his whole life.

  ‘Not at all. Despite not knowing anything about you, I feel a deep sense of responsibility which cannot be easily dismissed. Which is why I think the sensible thing would be for you to remain at Barradine for the time being.’