Robert didn’t stop until they reached the Nevis lookout. On a clear day it gave a panoramic view of Inverlochy and Fort William below, but presently the low clouds blocked most of the moonlight. From the saddle he searched the shadows below for movement.
“There they are,” said Lewis, pointing.
Robert squinted but could see nothing. “Are you certain?”
“I saw movement. They’re after us, mark me.”
“Then we continue until the horses are spent.” He looked to his men. “Was anyone injured?”
No one said a word, but his gaze settled on Miss Janet, her hair hanging in strings with no sign of the lovely, curled coiffure from the ceilidh. Shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, she clutched her fists in front of her mouth and blew on them.
“We’re free from danger, lass.” When she didn’t respond, he steered his mount beside her. “Are you well?”
“C-c-c—”
She couldn’t manage to utter the word. He leaned closer to better see in the darkness. Was she…? He grasped her cloak and rubbed it between his fingers. “God’s blood, you’re soaked clean through.”
Her head nodded. “Uhnn,” she replied in a chilly pitch.
Robert looked to the sky as he removed his cloak. Snow spattered his face. “Take this. Wrap it tight around your shoulders,” he said, swinging it around, then looking to Jimmy. “Tuck your blanket around the lady’s lap.”
“Straightaway, sir.”
After Robert dismounted, he removed her wet slippers. “Your feet are like ice. I have a pair of hose in my saddle bags. May I have your permission to pull them on?”
“A-aye,” she said, holding his cloak tightly, her teeth still chattering.
“There’s nothing to warm her up here. ’Haps you should take her to the boardinghouse,” said Lewis.
“If we do, she’ll fall into Cummins’s clutches for certain.” Robert busied himself pulling the woolens over the lady’s frozen toes and up her calves, trying to turn a blind eye to the long, slender, and delicate legs beneath his fingertips. He must think quickly. Miss Janet wouldn’t last long in this weather, not wearing a wet gown. He double-checked the blanket Jimmy had tucked around her lap. “Do you think you will be able to ride a bit farther, miss? I need to take you to a place where we’ll not be found.”
Still shivering, she looked down toward town. “M-my brother. They beat him and left him for d-dead.”
“That’s where we started. Found him unconscious in the scrub.”
“And you left him?” she asked, her voice turning shrill.
“Nay,” he barked. “Ciar MacDougall has taken him to safety.”
She looked up the mountain. “W-where?”
“I know not.”
“We must haste, sir,” said Tormond. “I saw the flicker of a lantern. I’m wagering they’ve started up the slope.”
Robert mounted. “We ride until we reach the pass at Coire na Ciste.” He signaled to Jimmy, praying the woman could make it that far. “Ride beside Miss Janet and keep a watchful eye. Lewis—we’ll need kindling. When we reach the forest, take Willy, gather wood, and meet us at the pass.”
“Aye, sir.”
* * *
Robert’s cloak and stockings and Jimmy’s blanket initially helped Janet’s teeth slow their chattering, but she’d never been so cold in all her days. As the night wore on, they steadily climbed higher and higher, up to where the temperatures were beyond bitter. She hadn’t been to Coire na Ciste, though her brothers had talked about it—and not in a good way. The riding in the cliffs was treacherous. ’Twas why Mr. Grant was leading them up there now. Lowlanders and Englishmen wouldn’t chance taking their horses up the Highlands, which made the mountains all the more alluring for clan men escaping from their enemies.
Janet curled her shoulders forward, hunching low over her horse’s withers, trying to stay warm. Snow relentlessly piled atop her and atop the mare’s coat, making it ghostly in the darkness. Her breath came in slow, shallow gasps. She blocked out her misery and focused on one thing—to keep going no matter the cost.
Thrice her beloved, fine-boned mare faltered and slipped, sidestepping to regain her balance. Janet knew better than to look down. She couldn’t see much past the layers of wool even if she did. The horse’s ears twitched at every noise. In the snowy darkness, it was impossible to see much farther than two feet in front of her nose. She could but trust the soft crunch of horses’ hooves in front and behind.
With a whoosh they were hit by a fierce gale. It whisked the snow off her horse and cut straight through Janet’s flesh. In minutes her teeth hurt from the chattering. No matter how hard she blew on her hands or how low she crouched over her mare, she could not stave off the violent shivers. Her lips were numb and her fingers ached, freezing and immobile as they gripped the leather reins.
Never had she known such cold. Every movement tortured her with pins and needles. Her eyelids grew so heavy it was agony to keep them open.
“Are we nearly there?” she whispered, only to have her words silenced by the howl of the wind. Onward they rode, through a narrow notch between two dark, looming, enormous cliffs. But Janet could take no more. Dropping the reins, she fell forward on the horse’s neck, dangling her arms to either side.
“Robert, Miss Janet needs rest.” She faintly heard Jimmy’s holler, though she didn’t hear a reply—if the Grant laird had spoken at all. It mattered not. She was too tired to open her eyes. Mercifully, sleep took away the bitter cold.
* * *
When Robert twisted around and saw Miss Janet unconscious and draped over her horse’s neck, he could have spat out his eyeteeth. “Why did you not say something sooner, Jimmy?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “There’s shelter ahead. We’ll stop there.” He hastened to lead them beneath an overhang. It was crude, but it was dry and blocked the wind. Fearing the worst, he dismounted and rushed to Janet’s side. “Lewis, use the wood you and Willy collected and start a fire. A big one.” He pointed to the others. “You men, dig a shallow hole, five feet long. Jimmy, bring me the tarpaulin.”
Having ridden without his cloak, Robert was chilled to the bone and shivering fiercely. He pulled the poor lass from the mare and carried her to the shelter. Sitting and balancing her on his lap, he removed his cloak from her shoulders and pulled it around then both. “I’ll warm ye, Miss Janet. ’Tis necessary to keep you from succumbing to cold exposure.” He didn’t expect her to respond, but he needed to explain his actions nonetheless. He briskly rubbed his hands along her arms and her thighs. “Where’s that bloody fire?” he bellowed, only able to see the shadows of the men as they worked.
“Setting flint to flax now, sir,” Lewis said, his gruff brogue unmistakable.
“And the pit?”
“Still at it,” said Tormond. “The ground’s frozen and full of rocks.”
Jimmy kneeled beside Robert. “Here’s the tarpaulin.”
Fumbling with the laces on Miss Janet’s bodice, he eyed the lad. “Set it down and help me remove this damp gown. She’ll never warm unless we can dry her.”
“Ah…me?” Jimmy stood like a dumb mute.
Robert grasped Miss Janet by the shoulders. “Just hold her and I’ll do it. And keep your bloody eyes averted. This is the daughter of one of the most powerful lairds in the Highlands, and she will have our respect. Ye ken?”
“Aye, sir.” Cringing, the lad placed his hands on Janet’s shoulders as if he were touching a hot stove.
Robert removed his gloves with his teeth, his fingers stiff and thick while he unlaced the lady’s bodice and cast it aside, then untied her skirts. He began to untie her stays.
“You’re not taking that off, are you?” Jimmy asked, his eyes bugging out.
“Just loosening them so the maid can breathe.” Once Robert finished, he tugged Janet to his body. Her head lolled back against him with her moan. Was she coming to? Robert looked at her face, but her eyes were still closed. “Now drape the tarpaulin around us.” It was nothing more than oiled leather but would provide a modicum of insulation.
Twenty minutes later, the fire was roaring, with coals beginning to radiate at its base. Robert stretched out his feet to warm them.
“Do you think Miss Janet will live?” asked Jimmy.
“Bloody oath, she had better, or the lot of us might as well give ourselves up and board a convict ship bound for the Americas.” Not only did they have a mob of redcoats on their tails, if Sir Ewen and his sons learned the lassie had died in Robert’s arms, they would not rest until Grant lands had been burned to ashes. “Spread half of the coals in the pit, then cover them with dirt—no rocks, mind you.”
Robert continued rubbing Miss Janet’s extremities while the men worked to make up the heated bed by the light from the blaze. “One-hour watches,” he ordered. “We’ll ride at dawn.”
“I reckon the dragoons have turned back by now,” said Jimmy.
“I hope you’re right. Cummins needs to sleep off the drink and realize he’s the one who blundered—save the lot of us a bellyful of misery. But I’ll nay take any chances.”
Once the coals were covered by a good three inches of dirt, Robert gently patted Miss Janet’s face. “Are you awake, lass?”
“Mm,” she moaned, her body still limp.
“Och, ’tis most likely best if you’re not awake.” He looked to Jimmy. “Take the tarpaulin and lay it flat over the bed.”
“She’ll sleep nice and warm on that.” Jimmy did as he was told.
“Aye.” Robert stood and carried Janet to the bed, rewrapped his cloak around the lass, then lay down and pulled her beside him so her back molded to his front. He draped his arm around her waist and nestled his legs into her form. “Wrap the edges of the tarpaulin over us, then tuck it in good and tight. And make sure our feet are covered.”
Jimmy didn’t move. “You’re not planning to stay there all night, are you, sir?”
“Where else am I going to sleep? I said this lassie will not die on my watch, and I stand by my word. She needs warmth and I have it aplenty. Now wrap that cloth over us, tuck it in, then go find your own place to bed down.”
“Aye, sir.”
The men chuckled as they went about their business.
“And I’ll tolerate no snide remarks, you lot of miserable sops.” The chuckles subsided, but no one needed to utter a word. And it didn’t take a soothsayer to know their heads were filled with unchaste thoughts. Robert growled under his breath. They can confess their sins on Sunday, the lot of them.
He adjusted the position of his hips, carving out an indentation in the earth, and pulled Miss Janet closer. Warmth from the coals below soothed the tension in his shoulders. As he closed his eyes, the scent of woman mingled with lavender enveloped him, suddenly stirring potent male instincts akin to those his men had chuckled about.
Robert growled low in his throat. This is not the place or the time, and ’tis definitely not the woman for me.
Aye, Robert was as red-blooded as any Highlander, but that mattered not in the slightest. The woman in his arms needed his protection, and it must be given. Janet Cameron would be safe on his watch. He closed his eyes. Nary a soul will touch her. I swear it.