by Shana Galen
Stratford sighed but handed them empty burlap sacks to put under their heads. They both laid back and closed their eyes. With their dirt streaked gowns and tangled unbound hair, they looked like they belonged in the back of the cart, though this farmer probably had daughters who looked more presentable. Still, since Emmeline’s eyes were closed, Stratford gave her surreptitious looks. Even though he’d escorted her to balls where she wore expensive silk gowns and diamonds about her neck, he thought she, lying in the cart with her black hair spread out under her and the dappled sun dancing over her cheeks, was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
She looked peaceful in sleep, for it hadn’t taken her very long to succumb to sleep. Miss Neves, on the other hand, had her eyes closed but was still wide awake. But Emmeline looked like the very picture of repose. He liked seeing her like that, liked not having to worry that she’d catch him looking at her and snap at him with one of her cutting remarks.
He wished she would understand she did not have to be defensive with him. He did not want to hurt her. Except he had, hadn’t he? She’d let down her guard for just a moment, and he’d rejected her.
But how was he supposed to know she would suggest marriage? She couldn’t have been serious, but still his first response should not have been no.
And though he kept trying to apologize to her, what could he really say? I’m not who you think I am? I do want to marry you, but I don’t think you’ll want me if you know the truth? And why need he say any of those things? She hadn’t really meant it when she’d said she wanted to marry him. It had been said in a moment of passion. Women’s minds always went to marriage when their passions were enflamed. But even if Emmeline would marry him, her mother would certainly not approve the match. She knew the truth about him.
Better to stick to the status quo and keep Emmeline at an arm’s length.
And that would have been easier done if she would just go home already.
INES
Ines looked over at Emmeline and knew her friend was already asleep. She wished she could fall asleep as easily. But tired as she was, her body would not relax.
That was Duncan’s fault. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the way he had touched her, the way his rough voice had caressed her, the way he had made her feel.
She wanted to do it all over again. As soon as possible.
And that made her quite wicked. She didn’t need Catarina looking over her shoulder to tell her that.
Did it matter if Ines was half in love with Duncan, had always been infatuated with Duncan?
Probably not. Duncan wouldn’t marry her, and that was what everyone cared about. But at least she had discovered one important piece of information—Duncan did want her.
And she wanted him. And so she was wicked. Ines expected to feel horribly ashamed of the realization that she was a wicked, immoral girl. She waited for the feeling and waited and waited. But she didn’t feel shame or guilt or even remorse. She wanted Duncan to do what he’d done all over again. The rules could go to the devil. Did they really even apply to her? She was a lacemaker. No one cared who she fell into bed with.
Ines opened her eyes. Was she really considering taking Duncan to her bed or going to his bed or, realistically, fornicating on the ground in the woods?
Why yes, yes she was. She smiled.
“What are you smiling about?” Mr. Fortescue asked.
Ines glanced at him. “Oh, nothing,” she said, proving once again what a bad liar she was.
“That wicked, eh?”
She rose on her elbows. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I might have heard a few revealing...shall we say, sounds, in the woods.”
“Are you shocked?” she asked.
“I’ve been in a war, Miss Neves. Nothing shocks me. Furthermore, life is too short to forego what makes you happy.”
Ines glanced at Emmeline, whose chest was rising and falling in an even rhythm. “You should take your own advice, senhor.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
She frowned. “Walked? But we are not walking.”
He laughed. “Yes, I see what Duncan likes about you. But, if I may be so bold, might I give you some advice?”
Ines laid back and sighed. Heavily. “If you must.”
“I suppose everyone gives you advice.”
“It is a favorite pastime, não?”
“Not mine, no. But I do know Duncan Murray very well. Maybe better than almost anyone else. And I can tell you a few things about him.” He glanced up at the box and she followed his gaze to see Duncan surveying the passing trees as though he were poised for an attack by bandits.
“What can you tell me?” she asked.
“He is gruff on the outside, but inside he has a heart like any other man. It can be bruised and broken.”
She waved a hand. “I have seen this already.”
“No doubt. You have also noticed that he has an interest in you.”
“And I in him,” she said boldly.
He shook his head. “Poor Draven.”
She sat. “Why poor Draven? Why not poor Ines? I am the one who has to live with all his rules? Is it so wrong of me to want a little pleasure in my life?”
“I don’t begrudge you or Duncan any little piece of happiness or pleasure. As I said, life is too short. But if you look at this situation logically, if you trace it to its inevitable conclusion, I think you will see what I am trying to say.”
She stared at him for a long moment. He was an attractive man with blond hair and intelligent blue eyes. She thought perhaps he lived too much inside his head, though.
“Shall I spell it out for you?” he asked, raising his brows.
“Spell it?”
He rubbed the spot between his eyes. “Shall I explain myself?”
“You probably should, senhor. I do not know what you speak of.”
“Duncan can’t marry you. His mother wants him to marry an English lady, and Duncan’s mother is a force of nature. Even I have heard of Lady Charlotte, though I have never met her. She has bested the British army. She has a Highland clan eating out of her hand. And she will make sure Duncan does as she wishes. She will never accept you.”
“Perhaps I can win her over. I am charming, sim?”
“You are charming, but you are not English. And Lady Charlotte cannot be charmed. I don’t want to see you with your heart broken. It might be better if we all just turned around now and went home. Duncan can go on without us.”
Ines looked away, pondering what he’d said. She could go back to London now. That would be the safe path. Her heart would not be broken. Her heart would be untouched. But she did not want a heart that was untouched. She wanted a heart that felt all the emotions. And if pain and loss was to be one of those, then she would take it. To lead a life avoiding anything that might ever give her pain was not to live at all.
“I am willing to risk the pain, senhor.” She looked at Emmeline. “But perhaps you are not?”
He stiffened and turned away. “I was trying to help.”
“You were trying to use your—what is it? crafty?—yes, crafty way to convince me to go back to London. That is what you want, sim?”
“If you go back that does benefit me, but that does not mean it is not also the right thing for you,” he said.
“Oh, senhor, you are good.”
He closed his eyes with a look of frustration.
“But I am crafty too. And you will have to make better strategy than this to convince me to turn around.”
“I have no doubt I am up to the challenge.”
That didn’t make Ines feel any better. Because, more than ever, she wanted Duncan Murray. She had thought that one kiss would be enough. But that kiss had only stoked the fire of her desire. And then when he had touched her last night—well, she must feel that again. Ines understood what Fortescue was telling her. She would be burned. She had been burned before.
<
br /> Catarina had often been exasperated with Ines—as had Ines’s mother—because Ines had been the sort of child who had to test everything herself. No one could tell her she would lose her ball if she threw it in the pond. She must see for herself and cry when her toy sank to the bottom. No one could tell her the coals in the fire were hot. She must see for herself and inevitably burn her hand.
It had been the same way with lacemaking. Catarina would tell her a pattern would not work, but Ines must try it on her own and waste hours of effort only to discover what Catarina had said was true.
And Ines knew that Duncan Murray would never love her, and his mother would never allow her to marry him. He could never be hers.
But that didn’t stop her from wanting to try. That didn’t stop her from risking scorching her heart. She must learn for herself.
She glanced at the Highlander again. He was so handsome with his loose brown hair and strong jaw. He was brave and honorable and exciting. He was everything she had always wanted, and he was worth all the risks she had taken and would take. If it meant he would touch her again, she would burn her heart until it was a black, shriveled thing.
Unfortunately, for the next several days there were no opportunities for stolen kisses or embraces. Ines existed in a twilight world of trading one cart for another, one farmer or tradesman for another. She was given food and drink. She was able to sleep, if uncomfortably, and she was steadily moving northward. She had stopped looking at the passing scenery. It all melted together in her mind. There was nothing to see. Duncan and Mr. Fortescue made sure they traveled on roads that were rarely used to make it more difficult for Draven and his men to find them. Duncan said he would not be surprised if he arrived home to find Lord Jasper sipping tea with his mother, waiting for them.
Ines was not certain who this Lord Jasper was, but she was a little afraid of a man who could move so quickly when the journey seemed to take them years.
Finally, late one night, when they had coaxed a Scottish merchant returning home with an empty cart to allow them to ride with him, Ines was shaken awake. She’d been asleep, her head on Emmeline’s lap. Ines looked up at Emmeline to see her blinking the sleep away as well. Duncan was pointing behind them at the landscape bathed in a soft morning light.
Ines sat. “What did he say?”
Emmeline rubbed her eyes. “I’m not certain.”
Fortescue, who had been riding in the front with the merchant called over his shoulder, “He said tell England goodbye. We’re in Scotland now.”
Ines sat and stared into the darkness. She didn’t know how anyone could see to stay on the road, much less note that they had moved from one country to another. But if Duncan said they were in Scotland, they must be. He looked absolutely elated. He sat, back straight, arms tight on the side of the cart. She could see anticipation in every line of his tense body. She touched his back, and he jerked to look at her then relaxed.
“I’m well and truly home now, lass,” he said with a smile.
Oh, how she liked that smile. She wished he would smile like that more often.
“How long until we reach your village?” she asked.
“Oh, a few days, if the weather holds and we don’t encounter any problems.”
Ines frowned and drew back. “What sort of problems?”
“Nothing for ye tae worry aboot, lass.”
But, of course, that was not at all true.
Thirteen
EMMELINE
“We’ll just be a few minutes,” Emmeline called over her shoulder as she and Ines moved into a wooded area to attend to their needs. When she was finished, Emmeline found a small brook and knelt beside it, plunging her hands into the cold water. She braced herself for the sting before splashing icy water on her face. Ines crouched beside her and did the same.
“Why is Scotland so cold?” she asked. “It is summer, não?”
Emmeline smiled. “I remember when I was a little girl visiting my grandmother in Cumbria. It was cold there too until July or August. In a few days you will be used to it.”
Ines wrapped a blanket one of the farmers had given her around her shoulders. “Duncan does not mind the cold. He does not even wear an overcoat.”
Emmeline sipped water from her numb hands then stood and tucked them into her skirts to warm them. “That is because we cut his overcoat off him.”
Emmeline was beginning to think she would need to do the same with her dress as it was ruined beyond repair. It had once been white, but now it was dingy with dirt and green with stains from grass. A few spots were soiled where muddy paw prints had landed. As if summoned by her thoughts, Loftus raced by her and plunged into the brook. Emmeline winced at the splash of water, then could not hold back a laugh. The dog looked to be enjoying the swim immensely. But Emmeline could only imagine that she would soon smell like wet dog, among the other unpleasant smells she had accumulated these last days of travel.
“I must have a bath soon,” Ines said, rubbing her arms to warm herself.
“I was thinking the same thing. I want a meal as well.”
“Oh, sim! A warm meal and a warm bath and a bed. We will have all of that when we arrive at the home of Duncan.”
Emmeline hoped that would not take long. She had been doing her best to avoid speaking with Stratford the past few days, but it was not easy when they were constantly together. And she was constantly reminded of what a fool she’d made of herself—suggesting marriage. She was such an idiot! She’d thrown herself at the first man who found her attractive and stirred her desire.
But, of course, that wasn’t true. She’d known Stratford for years. It seemed so natural for their relationship to change as it had. Natural to kiss him. Natural to touch him. Natural to think of marrying him. Which was ridiculous because the whole reason she had run away was to escape all the talk of marriage. But it seemed she’d been running away forever.
“How many more days until we—” she began. “Loftus!” Emmeline frowned as the dog’s ears pricked up and he trotted to the bank of the brook and then away from her. “Loftus!”
“Let him go,” Ines said. “He has probably scented a rabbit. He will come back to us when he tires of the chase.”
But Emmeline heard Loftus growl, and she had not heard him do that since the day she had rescued him. She moved deeper into the woods and finally caught sight of him. The fur on his back was raised, and he had his mouth open and teeth bared.
Emmeline knew better than to speak now. She felt Ines stop beside her, the other woman also sensing that silence was best. “A wolf?” Ines whispered.
Emmeline shook her head. There were not wolves in Scotland. Were there?
Emmeline turned to look into the trees, studying the shapes and colors for anything amiss.
And then she saw it—a splash of red where there shouldn’t have been one. The shape slowly came into focus for her. It was a man with red hair. He had a dun-colored cap pulled low over it, probably to hide the color, but it was too bright to conceal. He was crouched near a log, a bow in his hand with an arrow nocked.
The arrow pointed at Loftus.
“Call yer dog off, Sassenach, or Angus will shoot him through the heart.”
Emmeline gasped and moved only her eyes to see the man. His voice had come from her right, where Ines had been standing, and now she saw he had one arm around Ines’s shoulders and a knife to her throat. Ines looked pale and shaken, her already wide brown eyes even wider. But Emmeline also saw a trace of exhilaration in her expression. That girl certainly loved an adventure.
Only this adventure would see her killed.
“I can try,” Emmeline said. “I only acquired him a week ago.” Had it been only a week? It felt like years had passed. “He might not listen to me.”
“Pray he does.”
Emmeline cleared her throat. “Loftus!” she said in her sternest voice. “Loftus, want a treat?” That usually caught his attention, but this time he did not even look her way. “Loftus!”
she tried again. This time his ears twitched, and she knew he had heard her. “No. Come here.” She patted her leg. Loftus eased back again, but his attention remained on the man called Angus.
“Loftus!” she all but yelled. Surely Murray or Stratford would hear her and come to investigate. If they did not and she did manage to call Loftus off, what would these men do? Emmeline had no idea if there were only two of them or more. And what were they doing hiding in the woods? Were they bandits? Escaped criminals? Poachers?
“Loftus, come.”
Finally, thank God! The dog looked at her, his expression clearly one of annoyance. He did not want to be called away, but he was, at his heart, a dog who wanted to please. “Loftus, come!” she said again.
Moving sideways, never taking his eyes off the man with the bow and arrow, Loftus started toward her.
“Good job, Sassenach,” the man said as Loftus whined then sat at her side. Emmeline grabbed the fur at the scruff of his neck to keep him still, though if he really wanted to attack, she wouldn’t have been able to hold him back. She might outweigh him, but he was all muscle and strength.
“You may release my friend now,” she said.
“After ye hand over yer purse and any baubles.” The man’s eyes, all that were visible as he wore a scarf around the lower part of his face and a hat over his brow, slid up and down her. Clearly, he could see she wore no baubles.
“I’ve already had my purse stolen,” she told him, using her best authoritative tone. “I have nothing of value, and neither does my friend. Let her go.”
“Ye might have nothing of value, but she’s a bonny wee thing. I think we’ll take her with us. Ye want her back? We’ll make a trade for her. Tell yer men to meet us at the old crofter’s cottage, a mile to the east at sunset.” He began to drag Ines backward, and Ines’s eyes widened. She began to struggle, but the man nicked her with his dagger, and she went still again.
“You should not have done that,” Emmeline said. “Her man will kill you for touching her. He will tear you limb from limb for drawing her blood.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but she knew they were true. Ines was the sort of woman men would kill for. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even get herself abducted.
