Chapter Five
“Are ye mad?” Philip said, kicking at a bale of hay.
“I couldna leave her there,” John said. He leaned against the wall of the small barn near the cottage, watching his cousin pace.
“She’ll discover who ye are. Ye’ll be finished.”
“I keep the mask on whenever I’m near her. She hasna seen my face. I deepen my voice a bit. If we were to run into each other at court, she wouldna recognize me. I think.” John ran a hand over his face, relishing the slight breeze that blew across his skin.
“I still say you are mad,” Philip insisted.
“What would ye have me do?” John asked, his patience wearing thin. “Leave her to bleed into the dust?”
Philip’s frown was nearly a pout. He sighed. “Someone would ha’ come along, eventually.”
John’s brow quirked up, and Philip reluctantly smiled. “Fine,” Philip said. “But you canna keep her here. And we must leave. We’ve never stayed here for more than a night or two. Much longer and we’ll attract attention. Besides, the meeting is set for the day after next. Our man willna wait if we are late. There are people waiting for these supplies, the coin…”
“I know,” he said. “I think…I think I should take her with us.”
Philip’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “John…”
“I stitched up her arm. She’s young and healthy but is far too weak yet. And I dinna like the fever. I canna leave her here to fend for herself.”
“Nay, but ye could send the lass on her way. She has her own people at her own home who can care for her.”
“Aye, and if I thought they’d actually do so, I might consider it. But ye know her father. The man is a greedy, selfish bastard who’d sooner hasten her death along than do what he could to heal her. She’s unmarried with no children. If she dies, her father will inherit the estates her grandparents left her. Do ye really believe he’d no’ welcome that? And now with Fergus in his pocket…” John had to stop and contain the rage roiling inside. “Him being at Barrington Manor last night was no coincidence. I’m more certain than ever they are working together. Why else would Dawsey wed his daughter to a landless, titleless bastard, if not to control her dowry lands through her husband? The daft wee shite doesna even realize Dawsey’s made a puppet of him.”
“Been thinking on this, have ye?”
“Aye. And I’ll no’ leave her to their mercy.”
Philip sighed. “Glenlyon is a week’s journey.”
“Not much farther than her own home. And she’ll receive much better care at Glenlyon.”
“Aye. And then she can go straight to the King’s Guard and not only identify you but lead them right to the door of our kin. Is that what ye want?”
“O’ course not. And I wouldna take her to the keep. Perhaps to one of the cottages. There are a few secluded ones where no one will disturb us, and she can heal while being none the wiser as to where she is.”
“Oh? And what of you? Will ye keep that mask on the whole time?”
John frowned but nodded. Philip snorted. “That’ll be comfortable.”
John ignored that. “Where’s Will?”
Philip grinned. “Dinna worry about him. I’ve set him to enough chores it’ll be months before he has any energy or desire to go on a job again. And I’m holding onto his pistol until he’s a little less heavy on the trigger.”
“Good thinking.”
“I dinna like this plan, John. It’s dangerous. For her and us.”
“I ken that well. But I’ll no’ leave her behind.”
“Then we should leave immediately. Traveling with the lass as she is will take longer. We canna miss our contact.”
“Agreed. And I dinna want to take the risk of her worsening.”
Philip slapped his hat against his leg and shook his head with a sigh. “You take the lass on to Glenlyon. I’ll take the load on to our man.”
“I canna let ye do that alone.”
“I’ll take Will.”
John’s eyes widened. “I think ye’d be better off alone.”
Philip laughed. “He’s no’ so bad. A might eager, perhaps. A nice long journey with lots of hard labor will calm him a bit. We’ll manage fine.”
“Philip…”
“Go. I can deliver a wagonload of supplies without ye. I’m not totally helpless, ye ken.”
“Aye, I know,” he said, clapping his kinsman on the shoulder.
Philip looked at him, concern etched on his face. “I hope ye ken what ye’re doing.”
John gave him a wry smile. “Not an ounce. But I’ll tread carefully.”
“I hope so. She is the daughter of Lord Dawsey, after all.”
John’s smile changed to a scowl. “She’s nothing like him.”
“Are ye willing to bet yer life on that?”
“Yes,” John said quietly.
They’d spent only an hour together. Not enough time to know for certain that he could place his faith in her. But the woman had strength, kindness, intelligence, and bravery. And a beauty so brilliant it set his chest to aching. Could he trust her? Maybe not. He would take the necessary precautions to protect those who depended on him.
But he couldn’t leave her. Not newly stitched and burning with a fever due to his mistake. Not when anything might happen to her. The urge to shelter and care for her overwhelmed him with an intensity too strong to ignore. The image of his mother, burning with fever in childbed, came to his mind, and he immediately forced it away.
He wouldn’t let that happen to Elizabet, no matter what risks he had to take. The fault for her injuries lay at his feet. His man had shot her. The responsibility for her now fell to him, and he’d do everything in his power to ensure she made it home, whole and healthy.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t regret it.
He looked up to find Philip staring at him, either in concern or bemusement, John couldn’t tell. John straightened away from the wall.
“Dinna worry. You keep an eye on Will. We’ll meet at the ruins three weeks from tonight. Then perhaps we’ll discover what Dawsey and that fiend Fergus have been up to.”
Philip mounted his horse and nodded. “Take care.”
John smiled and slapped the horse’s rump. His smile faded, though, as his kinsman rode out of sight. Philip had cause to be worried. Elizabet’s presence at his hideaway presented a danger to him. And his men. Bringing her to his home would only bring danger to more people he loved, if he didn’t have a care.
Of course, he wanted her gone as soon as possible.
He kept repeating that to himself as he walked back to the cottage. Maybe by the time he entered and came face-to-face with her he’d believe it.
…
They rocked and swayed over the pitted trail, but Jack had padded the wagon bed so well she hardly felt a bump. Which was a blessing because her arm ached and burned until her teeth were on edge. She shivered and huddled beneath the blankets. How she could be cold when her face nearly pulsed with heat, she didn’t know. The answer should be easy enough. But her mind seemed to be floating in a hazy fog.
They’d been traveling for several days, stopping only for brief rests. They’d avoided inns and other people in general, sleeping in the wagon for a few hours at night with Jack sitting close enough to share his warmth, but not so close as to jostle her arm. The days blurred into one another. He offered her food whenever they stopped. Travel rations from his saddlebag. He never once left her to hunt. She found it sweet, really. As sweet as a captor taking care of his captive could be.
The thought uppermost in her mind should have been escape. Or at least her own health. She had enough lucid periods to know she wasn’t doing well but in those rare clear moments, she thought only of getting a glimpse of Jack’s face. She probably should have been more concerned with where he was taking her. All he would say was someplace safe. He worried about her. Quite considerate of him, bearing in mind her injuries had been caused during the robbery of her family. But still, even with all those pressing issues, she couldn’t stop wondering what he looked like.
He couldn’t wear his mask, of course. Not while they traveled in broad daylight. They kept off the main roads, and Jack seemed to have a knack for avoiding other people because as far as she knew, they hadn’t seen anyone. Even still, he kept on a low-brimmed hat pulled over his brow to shadow his face, with a scarf against the chill in the air that covered everything but his eyes. Seemed like she should be able to piece together the bottom half of his face from when he wore the mask, with the top half of his face, shadowed though it was. Only she couldn’t make her mind work like that. She couldn’t make it work at all.
The wagon rumbled over a particularly bumpy patch of road, and she moaned before she could stop herself.
They pulled to a halt, and Jack’s face appeared above her. All covered or shadowed. She wanted to see his eyes, but his hand came down to gently feel her forehead, effectively blocking her vision at the same time.
“Ye have a fever still.” A cool cloth touched her forehead, and she leaned in to it gratefully, even as her body racked with shivers. He helped her sit up enough to drink some water from his skin.
“Where?” she managed to say.
“We’re almost there. Another few hours.” He laid her back down. Before she could glance up, his hand covered her eyes again, and he stroked her face, from her forehead to her chin as her mother used to do when she was a child.
“Rest, lass. We’ll be there soon.”
She fought to stay awake, but the fever pulled her under.
…
When she finally swam up from under the fog, she found herself out of the wagon and tucked into a warm, comfortable bed. She glanced around but recognized nothing. They must have finally arrived at Jack’s hideout. Speaking of Jack…
“Hello there,” he said, quietly closing the door behind him. To her disappointment he had his mask on once again.
“Where are we?” she asked, for lack of anything better to say. And she really wanted to know.
“In a small cottage, near my home.”
“Scotland?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve never been to Scotland.”
Jack smiled and wrapped an arm about her to help her sit. He handed her a cup that smelled of herbs and honey.
“Once ye’re feeling better, I’ll take ye outside and show ye what ye’ve been missing.”
“I do actually feel much better. I must have needed some rest.” She took a sip of the tea, looking up when Jack laughed. “What?”
“Ye needed the rest, all right. Ye’ve been asleep for nigh on three days now.”
“What?” She sat forward so quickly the tea sloshed over the edge of the cup, and Jack hurriedly took it from her. While shocked at how long she’d been unconscious, sitting without her arm throbbing in pain pleased her. At least she’d been spared a few days of uncomfortable healing.
“Old Granny Mc…Granny Mac has been caring for ye. Ye had a raging fever when we first arrived. I wasna sure what to do for ye. It’s why I brought ye here in the first place. I knew Granny could fix ye right up. Here,” he said, handing her back the tea. “Drink this up. Granny’s had me pouring that down yer throat since we arrived. And seeing as how fit yer feeling, I’d say it’s working.”
Elizabet nodded, agreeing.
Jack jumped up at the sound of a wagon outside. After a quick peek out the window, he cursed quietly beneath his breath and went to open the door.
“What are ye doing here?” he asked.
“Well, and that’s a fine hello,” a feminine voice said from the doorway.
“Hello, Cousin.” The affectionate smile evident in his voice piqued her curiosity about the woman. A kinswoman of Jack’s would be a wealth of information. Hopefully. She didn’t sound like a kinswoman. Though she had a faint Scottish brogue, her underlying speech was thoroughly English.
“Are you going to explain the mask?” she asked.
“No.”
Well that answered one question. He apparently didn’t wear it all the time. Elizabet had begun to wonder.
“Are you going to explain why you’ve been here half a week and haven’t been to say hello?”
“Ah…no.”
“Well, then. Are you going to invite me in or leave me standing in your yard?”
Elizabet smiled. She liked this woman already.
“How did ye know I was up here?”
A delicate snort sounded. “The whole valley knew of your return three days before you did.”
Jack chuckled. “Aye. Word does travel quickly in the Highlands.”
“That’s an understatement.” The woman stepped inside and hugged Jack, though her back was still to Elizabet. “It’s good to see you, J—”
“Jack.”
There was a slight pause and Elizabet wished she could see the woman’s face.
“Jack,” she repeated, her tone full of question. And amusement. “Well now, let’s see if the rest of the rumors are true…”
She turned and saw Elizabet sitting propped up in the bed. “I see the gossipmongers haven’t disappointed us this time.” She glanced back at Jack. “I asked you to bring me back a present from England J…Jack. But this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“She is far prettier than anything else I saw there,” he said, smiling and looking straight at Elizabet, who couldn’t help the blush that crept to her cheeks.
“Indeed,” the woman said, turning an amused and speculative grin on him.
Jack pulled her to the side and spoke low enough Elizabet couldn’t hear. Though, from the woman’s expression, which alternated between surprised, dismayed, and worried, Elizabet assumed he explained their predicament. She finally nodded and patted his arm before making her way over.
Elizabet watched her as she came toward the bed. With her raven hair and striking blue eyes, the woman’s beauty made Elizabet look drab in comparison. She gave Elizabet a warm smile and sat beside her on the bed.
“And how are you feeling this morning?” she asked, leaning forward to feel Elizabet’s head. “The fever appears to have broken.”
“I’m quite well. A bit sore,” she said, nodding at her arm. “But well otherwise. Thank you.”
“Very glad to hear it. Granny sent me over to check on you. Poor dear is feeling a bit under the weather herself.” She fussed over her a bit longer, making sure all was well. “Another few days I think and you’ll be right as rain, Miss…?”
“Elizabet. Harding,” she said.
The woman’s gaze flicked briefly to Jack. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lady Elizabet.”
Elizabet frowned. “You know of my father, then?”
“I’ve heard mention of him a time or two,” she said, her gaze straying back to Jack before returning to Elizabet. “And you must call me—”
“Don’t tell her who ye are,” Jack said.
The woman rolled her eyes. “My name is Sorcha MacGregor,” she said.
Jack blew out a breath, threw his hands up, and went to pace in front of the hearth.
“Sorcha?” Elizabet said, her eyes widening in recognition. “I remember you. Or, I’ve heard of you, at least. At court. Your hasty wedding was quite the gossip for a time.”
Sorcha’s delicate black brows rose. “Was it now?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone chattered about how you’d been forced to marry the great Scottish beast they called the Lion, dragged up here and no one ever heard from you again.”
Sorcha laughed. “Well, he can be a bit beastly when the mood strikes him, but he’s not so bad.”
Elizabet gave her a smile. “Happy to hear it, my lady.”
Seeing Sorcha so happy did truly ease Elizabet’s troubled heart some. She’d thought of the gossip surrounding Sorcha often, ever since her father had entered into negotiations with Fergus. A poor English girl being forced to marry a Scottish brute? Their fates had seemed parallel. Though somehow, Elizabet didn’t think she’d have such a happy ending as Sorcha, if she married Fergus. He didn’t seem the type to care about the happiness of his bride.
Sorcha must have been thinking along the same lines. “I have a feeling your wedding may surpass mine with the gossip, particularly after this adventure.”
Elizabet nodded, then frowned. “If there is a wedding. Who would marry a woman who’s gone missing for several weeks, especially if it is known with whom I’m missing?”
“Yes,” Sorcha said, flashing a raised eyebrow back at Jack. “Though perhaps that is for the best. I can’t imagine any marriage that includes my half brother having a happy ending.”
Elizabet’s gaze flew to Sorcha, her body nearly trembling with shock. “Your half brother?”
Sorcha nodded. “Fergus Campbell. Or…whatever he is calling himself these days. We share a father. And very little else. While I’d welcome a beautiful new sister,” she said with a soft smile, “I wouldn’t wish Fergus on anyone. Perhaps Jack has done you more of a favor than he intended.”
Elizabet glanced over to where Jack leaned against the wall, watching them while keeping an eye on the courtyard through the window.
“Perhaps he has,” she agreed. He looked over, and their gazes met. The smile he gave her sent a fine tremble through her body, and she bit her bottom lip, hoping the small, sharp pain would refocus her mind on Sorcha instead of the devilishly handsome rogue who gazed at her with such intensity.
Before she could say anything else, the door opened again and an older woman carrying an overflowing basket and an armful of clothing bustled in. She deposited everything on the table and looked around with disapproval, her frown deepening when she caught sight of Elizabet in the bed.
“Really. What is it with you MacGregors? The lot of you can’t be trusted at all. At least not with respectable English ladies.” She glanced at him, barely changing expression when she saw the mask. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” she said, flicking a finger at it.
“Ah, Berta!” Jack said, sweeping the old woman into his arms and twirling her about. “Ye know we canna resist you beautiful English roses.”
He gave her a sound kiss and set a now giggling Berta back on her feet.
“Oh, you,” she said, giving him a playful push.
Elizabet couldn’t help smiling at his charming antics. She should probably be screaming, begging these women for help. But Jack had done nothing to threaten her. He hadn’t even been the one to injure her in the first place and had gone to great lengths to bring her back to health.
Being so far from home did concern her somewhat. Then again, for the first time in her life, her parents couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t force an unwanted marriage to a loathsome man on her. Eventually, she would have to return. But until then, she would relish her small taste of freedom and enjoy the adventure of it all. And if that meant spending a little more time with a charming highwayman, that was a sacrifice she would willingly make.