Will didn’t come to bed. Josette let the maid Lady Bentley had sent up undress her, hoping Will would enter, dismiss the lady’s maid, and take over unwrapping Josette himself.

He did not. The maid set Josette’s wig aside and brushed out her dark hair, saying nothing about the few pieces of grass she picked out of it.

She buttoned Josette into her comfortable nightrail and helped her settle in the bed warmed with hot bricks. The maid doused all lights but one candle and departed. The light flickered between the crack in the bedcurtains the maid had closed, Josette in a cozy tent.

Alone.

She turned on her side and thought of Will stretched next to her on the ground after their lovemaking, the rain dwindling to nothing. He’d smiled his lazy smile and wrapped his surcoat around her to keep her warm.

Everything had fallen away—their mission, their past, any anger, expectations, disappointments, fears. It had just been the two of them, Will and Josette, no barriers, no regrets.

He’d cradled her in his arms, but she’d known she could no more hold on to him than she could the wind.

The short night ticked by, dawn breaking, and still Will did not come.

Josette’s exhaustion took over and tumbled her into unrelenting sleep. Dancing, making love under the dusky sky, and worrying about Will induced deep slumber.

When she woke, Will lay next to her—snoring. His long body was wrapped in the blankets, his bare thigh touching hers under the covers. His red-brown hair lay tangled on the pillow, eyelashes of the same color against his skin. His face was relaxed in a way Josette rarely saw it.

He was beautiful. And loud. His snores could make the bed curtains flap.

“William,” she whispered, nudging him.

Will continued to sleep. Josette nudged him again, harder.

“Mmphmph.” Will’s large hand came up to rub his face, and after a few more snorting sounds he awoke.

The smile he turned on her more than made up for the noise. “Good morning, love. If it is morning.”

“Sun’s up … Well, sort of.” The light through the crack in the curtain was weak, and Josette heard the grainy sound of rain on the windowpanes.

“That’s bonny Scotland for ye,” Will turned on his side, broad shoulder flattening the pillow. “Rain’s good for the whisky.”

He wasn’t bothering to be Sir William. Josette raised her brows at him.

“I found all the peepholes yesterday,” Will whispered to her. “Stopped them up. All the places a person could listen as well. Not many of those. The mistress of the house is more interested in her guests’ bed play than their intrigues. Every spy in Christendom could dance through here and she’d only care how many positions they used when they copulated.”

Josette pushed at his shoulder, laughter bubbling inside her. “You are awful.”

“I know, lass. That’s me—Sir William the Awful.” He lifted a lock of hair from her cheek, his touch tender. “Ready for a bit of travel today? Or would ye prefer to remain in Lady Bentley’s warm house?” He smiled as though he already knew her answer.

“No thank you.” Josette shivered. “A ride across empty lands in the rain sounds grand. Where are we going?”

“To see a friend of Sir Harmon’s. But we’ll speak more later.”

Josette understood. In spite of finding the holes in the walls, Will still wouldn’t risk anyone overhearing anything vital. She’d have to wait.

Will kissed her throat, his hair tickling her skin. When he raised his head, his expression was serious.

“Love,” he said softly. “We do have to talk about one thing.” He slid his hand under the covers to her abdomen. “When we were out in the hills, I forgot everything but how beautiful you are. I wanted nothing to exist but us. But I might have given you a babe.”

Josette’s heartbeat sped in hope—she’d also realized the possibility. When they’d shared a bed in the past, they’d taken precautions, both knowing their time together would not last. Will had once told her that he had no intention of saddling her with another child.

“Or might not,” she said, shrugging. “I’m rather long in the tooth.”

“You aren’t. Doesn’t matter that I’m elderly, either. If we have the strength to love each other in the heather, we have the strength to conceive. If so—I won’t leave the bairn fatherless.”

Josette blinked. “What do you mean?” she asked lightly. “You’d find one of your many friends to marry me?”

She broke off as his face went dark, blood flooding his sunburned cheeks. “Is that what you think?”

She’d been teasing, but it was the sort of thing Will would do. “You have the resources and the friends to do any number of things for you.” Josette tried to make the words nonchalant. “Why should this be different?”

“Because it’s you.” Will cupped her face, his hand strong. “The hell I’d let another man touch you, or marry you, or raise my wee one.”

“Oh.” Josette’s mouth went dry as she realized what he had meant.

If she fell pregnant, he’d marry her himself.

Josette’s heart pounded until her body was hot. She imagined herself with a babe, with Will at her side as its father—it was a glorious, exciting thought.

Or perhaps not. He might marry Josette to give the child a name and make certain he or she was looked after, but that did not mean they’d live as man and wife. Will Mackenzie was a bird in flight, a hawk ever moving, rarely lighting.

If Josette did not conceive, she’d be spared the days of waiting and wondering when he’d come home. But why did that thought make her cold?

“Will …”

“We have time to think about it.” He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Babes don’t announce they are imminent for some weeks. We’ll wait and see.”

Where would Josette be in a few weeks? In France, hoping she and her daughter were safe? Or still hunkering in Strathy Castle, deciding what to do next?

Josette could only nod. She would not turn down Will’s proposal if one became necessary. She wouldn’t be so heartless to deny their child a father because her feelings might be hurt.

Will’s touch became slower, more seductive. “While we wait …”

Josette should push him away, tell him once was enough, spare herself more heartache at the end.

Instead she pushed back the covers, slid her hand under his warm hair, and pulled him down to her.

Sir Harmon insisted they take a meal before departing. Will chafed with impatience, but he readily accepted, like a young man more interested in his comforts than anything else.

Will could barely focus on the lavish breakfast of partridge, coddled eggs, ham, sausages, soft breads dripping with butter, strawberries, and more cream. It wasn’t the season for partridges, but a plump one had been roasted and divided for them.

All Will could think of was Josette under him this morning, warm from sleep, her arms welcoming. Last night he’d fallen in love all over again. They fit so well, the two of them complete together.

The possibility of a child made Will flush with excitement. When he’d touched her soft abdomen, he’d been filled with longing as he envisioned Josette smiling at him with a curly-haired daughter on her knee. Or perhaps a red-headed son with Mackenzie-gold eyes.

Why not both? Or a handful of children? Josette might object to all that childbearing, but they could try for as many children as was safe for her.

Sudden fear seized him. Childbirth was anything but safe—many mothers and children did not survive it.

Will attacked his food. He’d do everything in his power to make sure Josette was well and remained well, including finding a heap of gold so she could live in comfort.

He finished all his breakfast—why waste decent grub? And poured a glass of hock down his throat before Sir Harmon finally thumped his goblet to the table and agreed Will should depart.

Lady Bentley did her best to dissuade Josette from accompanying him, but Josette remained firm. She skillfully portrayed a young woman reluctant to let her husband out of her sight for too long, and Lady Bentley relented with understanding.

Will imagined not all of this was playacting—Josette likely believed Will would tuck the boxes of gold under his arms and disappear into the mist if he found them without her.

He preferred to have Josette with him. He’d have talked her into joining him if she hadn’t already agreed, because though this house offered protection from the wet Scottish summer, he didn’t trust the inhabitants to leave her be. The other gentlemen guests were restless, Josette was so very beautiful, and she’d be all alone …

Anger smoldered through him.

Sir Harmon gave Will painstaking directions to Shieldag Castle to the north along the coastal road. Will already knew where the place lay but listened as though with great concentration.

Bhreac, who’d been keeping himself hidden in the stables, slouched on top of the carriage like a sullen coachman not happy to be out in the rain. Will handed Josette into the coach, shook hands with Sir Harmon, and climbed inside.

Sir Harmon shut the door himself and gave them a wave. Will lowered the window to pump his arm out of it, then they turned out of the gate and headed up the road.

When they were several miles from the house, Will threw himself back against the seat and let out a long breath.

“God save us.”

Josette, across from him, lifted her feet to rest them on his seat. “I concur. We ought to feel sorry for the poor things confined there today, but I can only be glad we escaped.”

“Their own bloody fault.” Will heaved himself up and thumped on the ceiling. “Ye can stop now, Bhreac.”

The coach slowed to a halt, sliding as the back wheels found mud. Will opened the door, letting in a gust of rain, and jumped down to the sodden road, not bothering with the steps.

Bhreac looped the reins around the seat, climbed to the ground, and moved to the horses. He spoke to them a moment, then left them to doze and came back to Will. The horses wouldn’t budge, Will knew. Animals tended to listen when Bhreac spoke to them.

“Where are we really going?” Bhreac asked him. “Someplace with softer beds than those boxes of straw I’ve been sleeping in, please tell me. Master of the house is lavish with his own comfort, but not his servants’.” He rubbed his backside with a grimace.

“Sir Harmon would have to spend money,” Will said. “We are making for Shieldag Castle to speak to Clennan MacDonald, as intended. But there’s a problem.”

“Och, what might that be?” Bhreac asked the air.

“He knows me, and knows me well. Once upon a time, me mum was to marry his brother, who had the interesting moniker of Horace. Mum threw Horace Macdonald over for Dad. Been hatred between the families ever since. If Clennan sees me, he won’t bother to call for soldiers to arrest me—he’ll pick up the nearest pistol and shoot me.”

Josette, listening through the open door, drew a sharp breath. “And you still mean to go to his house? I am right about you, Will. You are completely mad.”

“He’s never heard of Sir William Jacobs,” Will answered. “Doesn’t know anything about him other than what Sir Harmon put in this message.” He touched the paper in his coat Sir Harmon had handed him, then he eyed Bhreac. “Can ye pretend to be an idiotic Englishman?”

Bhreac cleared his throat then said, his face tight, “I’ll bloody well have a go.”

Josette and Will stared at him, then each other, then groaned.

“That is the worst English accent I have ever heard,” Will said.

“Perhaps you should try to be French,” Josette suggested. “Or a Spaniard, or Portuguese. From some country Mr. Macdonald likely hasn’t visited.”

“Why can’t Sir William be from the Borderlands?” Bhreac asked. “If this Macdonald don’t know anything about him?”

Josette answered. “Because Sir Harmon would never trust a Scotsman he’d just met.”

“No indeed.” Will ran his thumb over the seal on the message for Clennan—he’d have to warm it open and read it.

“Mr. Macdonald has never met me,” Josette said. “I can speak to him as Anna Jacobs, and we can say Will is indisposed. Something he ate, perhaps. I can deliver the message as easily as you can.”

True. They could pretend that Sir William had eaten bad fish and was laid up at the nearest tavern and sent his wife to run his errand as a last resort. Josette would play her role thoroughly, and Clennan would never tumble to the ruse.

The solution was excellent, except for the fact that Will did not want Josette alone in Shieldag Castle, at the mercy of a Highlander who’d sold out members of his own family. Macdonald had disapproved of the Uprising, but unlike Will, who’d protect his family to the last breath of his life, Clennan had his cousins and other clansmen arrested.

Bhreac came alert. “Rider.”

Will looked around to see a horse coming over the rise, a man in a British uniform moving easily with his mount.

“Captain Ellis,” Josette said.

Will shaded his eyes. “Ah, good. I wondered what was keeping him. I mentioned to him last night I’d be glad of him on this venture.”

Mutely the three waited for the horse and rider to reach them. Captain Ellis tipped his tricorn hat to Josette and gave Bhreac a sharp look.

“Fine day for a ride,” Will said to Ellis, indicating the rain-drenched land.

“I told Sir Harmon I wished to accompany you. He thought it a good idea, as there is danger on the roads.”

“There is,” Will said in a quiet voice.

Bhreac laughed. “Ain’t none more dangerous than us, Captain.”

“I worried about the lady,” Ellis said sternly.

Josette gave him a friendly nod. “We welcome your company, sir. Angry Highlanders might form the wrong impression of Will.”

Will had to agree. As Sir William, he’d dressed in light blue and yellow for this outing, lace dripping from his coat and even the cuffs of his breeches, his silver shoe buckles large and glittering.

“They’d run me through with the nearest claymore,” Will said. “Never mind claymores have been outlawed—they’d dig one up for me. Maybe the presence of a cavalryman will keep me from having to explain myself.” He grinned at Josette. “But I suggested he come along because Clennan Macdonald has never met him.”

Captain Ellis nodded. “That is true. Macdonald is known to the British government as a man who hands over traitors. He’s led Cumberland’s men to many a Jacobite in hiding. But I’ve never made his acquaintance.”

His tone held contempt. Captain Ellis was as loyal an Englishman as was ever born, but he also was the most fair-minded man Will had ever met. Ellis despised turncoats and had been appalled during the Uprising at how Highlander could turn on Highlander.

Will and his brothers had tried to explain about clan rivalries that went back centuries, where anyone outside your glen was a deadly enemy. While Scotland was now united in theory, those rivalries ran deep, even within clans themselves. The Scots had been scheming, plotting, battling, and turning on one another since men had walked these hills, and a few years being in one grand nation with England wouldn’t change that.

“Which is the reason I can’t appear in his drawing room with my hand out,” Will said. “He’ll be begging you to arrest me on the spot, possibly even rush out to build my gallows himself.”

“Then why are you going?” Ellis demanded. “And why bring Mrs. Oswald into the danger?”

“Mrs. Oswald is not one to stay tamely at home, and anyway, it’s easier for me to keep an eye on her if she’s with me.”

“I came to keep an eye on him, Captain,” Josette corrected Will. “But I understand Will’s point. If Mr. Macdonald has never seen you, Captain Ellis …”

Ellis looked pained—but one reason Will found success as a spy was that he took advantage of opportunities.

Will stuck out his arms to show off his garish coat. “It might be a bit large for you, Captain. But we’ll do our best.”