They’d traveled a few miles from Shieldag Castle, which was now hidden by a crag the road had laboriously climbed over. Josette’s heart warmed when she saw Will waiting next to Captain Ellis’s horse, but worry touched her as she realized another man stood with him.

Will didn’t seem to be bothered by the man’s presence at all. As Bhreac halted the coach, Will stepped forward, tore open the coach’s door, and hauled Josette out and into his arms.

He smelled of warm wool and the outdoors, and the bite of whisky he’d drunk to stave off the cold. Will pulled her into a strong embrace, his body like a wall of comfort.

He held Josette then eased back and gazed at her as though nothing else existed but the two of them. The Highlands, the gold, and Mr. Macdonald could blow away on the breeze. Josette wished they would.

“Mr. Naughton,” Captain Ellis was saying, gladness in his voice. “Well met.”

Josette now recognized the man called Naughton from her visit to Kilmorgan, but she wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or alarmed. Why was the Duke of Kilmorgan’s trusted majordomo here?

“He’s keeping an eye on friend Macdonald,” Will answered her unspoken question. He tucked Josette’s hand under his arm as they faced the others, including Bhreac, who’d jumped down from his perch. “You remember Naughton, Josie.”

“Mrs. Oswald,” Naughton said politely, though his eyes betrayed happiness at seeing her. “I trust you are well?”

“As well as can be expected, Mr. Naughton. And you?”

“Aye, well.” In England, a man might make light of his troubles or hide them to be polite, but Josette had learned that if she asked a Highlander how his day had gone, he’d tell her. “’Tis much trouble fetching and carrying for Clennan Macdonald, I will say.”

“I’m sure Will would send you to the family in Paris if you wished,” Josette said. “There’s no need for you to stay.”

Naughton gave her his faint smile. “Then I wouldn’t be here watching what Macdonald gets up to. I serve the family better if I remain.”

“Macdonald is out to get his hands on Kilmorgan,” Will announced. “I will stop him.”

The words weren’t spoken in anger or with vehemence but with quiet certainty.

“Shall we see what he gave us?” Captain Ellis asked. “Or wait until we’re back at Sir Harmon’s?”

“Might as well have a look,” Will said, sounding cheerful.

Captain Ellis lifted the cask from the coach seat and handed it to Will, whose eyes widened slightly at its weight.

Will touched the lock, which was new and bright, contrasting the aged patina of the box’s wood. “He doesn’t want us to know what’s inside, does he? Bhreac, keep a lookout.”

“What d’ye think I’m doing?” Bhreac growled. He scanned the road and the lands beyond, glowering as though the very rocks had better take care.

Will nudged stones with his boot until he found one that fitted well in his hand. He set the cask on a boulder, hefted the stone he’d chosen, and then bashed the innocent hasp with all his strength.

The lock broke, and Will opened the lid.

Josette leaned over his arm, her heart pounding as she saw what lay inside. “Oh ... my ...”

The box was filled with shimmering coins. Josette reached in and plucked one out, holding it up to the weak sunlight. The profile of Louis of France winked back at her.

“Louis d’or,” she said in awe.

One of these could feed all the ladies holed up at Strathy Castle for a week. The lot in the box could purchase the freedom of their husbands, brothers, and sons, with enough left over to pay Colonel Chadwick so he’d forget about capturing Will or threatening to take Glenna away. Or to let Josette and Glenna flee to a far corner of the Continent where Colonel Chadwick would never find them.

Will plucked out a folded piece of paper that lay beneath the coins. This proved to be, when unfolded, the list of names of people Macdonald and Sir Harmon wanted Sir William and Anna to visit and spy on.

“No wonder Macdonald said that if we opened it up and spent what was inside, he’d know,” Josette said. “Word would get around if we tried to exchange a cask full of Louis d’or or use them in a shop.”

“Aye, the shopkeepers and bankers would talk,” Will said, his voice holding an undercurrent of excitement. “My love, I believe we’ve just found the French gold. Well ... some of it, anyway.”

Will held his glee in check with difficulty as the coach rolled down the road, returning them to Sir Harmon’s.

Naughton had said his good-byes and trudged back toward Macdonald’s large home, his back straight with new strength. Captain Ellis and Will exchanged clothes again, and Captain Ellis now rode alongside the carriage as their escort.

Ellis had told Will as they’d dressed all that transpired inside Shieldag, including Macdonald recognizing Josette as Alec’s model, though not by name. Ellis also relayed the disgusting things the man had said to her and his own wish to call Macdonald out.

“How you let Mrs. Oswald into circumstances where men can be so loathsome to her is beyond my understanding.” Captain Ellis had scowled at Will. “Kill the man and have done.”

Will had no answer for this, because he knew Ellis was right. He should never have let Josette into that house, not even for the great cause of finding the gold.

“We’ll have him,” Will said tersely. “He’s likely sitting on much more than he gave us. Cheer up. Soon you can have the satisfaction of hauling Macdonald in for treason.”

“If we can make it stick,” Ellis pointed out. “He might have the French gold, he might be keeping it from King George, and he might be handing secrets to British enemies. At this point, we only know he’s an unpleasant man who has no respect for ladies.”

“Oh, he’s conducting dirty deeds all right,” Will said. “It is his way. Macdonald doesn’t know how not to be involved in chicanery. I promise that if you can’t convince a magistrate he’s a traitor, then I will kill him myself. I won’t bother calling him out and following the prissy rules of dueling—I’ll simply shoot him.”

Captain Ellis wasn’t satisfied, and neither was Will. But Macdonald had made a mistake insulting Josette, and he’d pay for it.

As the carriage made its slow way over the narrow road, Will watched Josette in the dying light. Shadows brushed her face, which was lined with tiredness. Josette was resilient, but the sooner they finished this, the better.

“Is Mr. Macdonald a fool?” Josette asked. “To hand us what is obviously gold coins from France? To the idiot Sir William Jacobs and his wife, who once knew Alec Mackenzie well?”

Will shook his head. “These coins could plausibly have come from his sound investments in France, which no doubt he’d claim if we grew too curious and opened the box. If we spend the money without bothering with his man of business, I have the feeling Macdonald would send lackeys to visit us in the night and explain why it’s a bad idea to disobey.” He stretched his arms, the lace on his sleeves making strange patterns on the coat’s velvet. “And while he found a connection between you and a Mackenzie, he truly believes us all dead and gone, and he also has no idea that women can think, reason, or speak coherently. Not that he wouldn’t make use of you if he decided to, but he does not believe you’d tumble to his schemes. Last, what better way to hide the gold than have a lackwit gamble with it on the Exchange and take the payout in English money back to Macdonald?”

Josette listened thoughtfully. “I suppose that is logical. To him, I mean. Sir Harmon must pass Macdonald likely dupes to gather information for him and wash his money clean—I wonder how many of Sir Harmon’s other guests are under a similar thrall. If those dupes are caught, they answer to the law, not Macdonald or Sir Harmon, two prominent men who can spread their hands and be amazed such simpletons accuse them.”

“Very likely,” Will said. He looked forward to turning the tables on Macdonald, especially given the man’s obsession with Kilmorgan. That worried him far more than Macdonald’s need to buy himself unwitting spies.

“How do we find out if he has the rest of the gold?” Josette asked. “Dig up his cellar?”

“If it comes to that.” Will fixed her with his gaze. “You won’t be doing any digging at all. I want you to put this money to good use and take Glenna to Paris. You’ll stay with my family, who’ll look after you and keep Glenna’s father at bay.”

Josette’s dark eyes widened. “I will, will I?”

Will’s temper, which he’d managed to keep in check all day, burst at the seams. “Damn it, lass, I won’t have ye roaming the countryside for one of my dangerous schemes only to be insulted by lechers like Macdonald. My brothers have a comfortable house in your native land and plenty of friends. You and your daughter will dine well and be protected for the rest of your lives. If you’re worried about Colonel Chadwick, never mind about him. I’ll deal with him and be done, have no fear.”

Josette’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “Are you finished?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to shout at me. Go ahead—but you’re off to France, and that is the end of it.”

“My high-handed friend, you are not my husband. I agree about using the money to send Glenna to safety, and I will do that. But I’ll not leave you behind in these isles where you are captured and tortured by British officers and risk your life looking for the rest of the gold. If you want me and Glenna in France, then come there with us.”

Come with us. Will gazed out the window, his anger dropping away. He knew, at that moment, why he traveled to Scotland so often, despite the danger, why he’d never, ever settle down in France, and why he’d do anything in his power to keep Josette here with him. The conflict between wanting that and needing her to be safe tore at him.

“I cannae,” he said softly. “I must stay.”

The astonishing thing about Josette was that she understood. Will did not have to explain that Scotland was a part of himself, and he was a part of it. That he could no more not come back here than cease breathing.

And he could not let Macdonald have Kilmorgan.

“He wants my home,” Will said abruptly. “To prove to the world that the Duke of Kilmorgan and the Mackenzies are defeated and gone. If we do nothing, then he is right, and we are finished.”

Josette leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. The strength of her touch came through his finely woven velvet breeches with a vibrancy Will loved.

“Do you think I can leave you to fight him alone? I learned from talking to Mr. Macdonald for less than an hour that he is a crafty devil, maybe even as clever as you. But I’m crafty too, Will. I don’t want him walking over your family’s estate, or your ancestors’ bones. I’ll send my daughter to safety and fight him with you.”

Will dragged his gaze from the hills and focused on Josette. She looked back at him, determination glowing from her.

Mackenzies needed strong women, Malcolm liked to say, so they wouldn’t be dashed to pieces on them. Old Dan Mackenzie, so the legend went, found such a woman in the lass who’d risked all to run off with him, and who’d been instrumental in helping him win the lands of Kilmorgan in the first place.

Down the centuries, Mackenzie women had bred strong sons, and daughters too, had taken up arms to fight beside their husbands. They’d fought for Kilmorgan, for their families, for their lives.

Will would never let Clennan Macdonald, or some English lordling—anyone—take what those men and women had so furiously fought for.

Will closed his hand over Josette’s, gripping hard. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until he found Josette’s steadiness.

“I do want ye to stay with me, lass. For now and for always. Can ye do that, do you think?”