Josette shook with anger, the too-rich meal roiling in her stomach. Will, damn and blast him, lounged in his chair as though none of this mattered.

“Will has a solution, and all is well?” she demanded, voice resounding. “And we are to jump to it and obey, no matter how ridiculous it is? Give yourself over to the king? When the horses are pulling you from limb to limb, will you rejoice that your plan worked?”

Will came slowly to his feet. Wilfort and Ellis had risen when Josette did, polite to the letter. Bhreac was the exception. He remained seated, drinking his wine, enjoying the drama.

“I never said I’d stay a prisoner, love,” Will said quietly.

“Oh, yes? How many times can you escape? Your luck will run out sooner or later—they’ll put you in a dungeon so deep you’ll scarce be able to breathe, and they’ll keep you chained until they cut you to bits.”

“It doesn’t matter how stout the lock—it matters who guards the door,” Will said, sounding too reasonable. “I’ve taught you that.”

Josette thumped the table with her fists, making the silver cutlery dance. “What you’ve taught me is you do as you please, devil take the hindmost, because it suits you. While the rest of us worry until we’re sick whether you’re dead or alive, you go merrily on. But you’re not bothered, because you know you’re well. Your friends can go hang.”

“Josette.” The confusion in his eyes was unfeigned. “What happens to me is not important—don’t you understand? It never has been. I never wanted to be duke, and I’ll never be the caretaker of Kilmorgan that Mal is. I’m just Will. The spare. Doesn’t matter what I get up to, does it?”

He spoke lightly, but Josette read the bitterness behind his words.

He’d told her this before—that he was the appendage Mackenzie. Duncan was the heir, Angus had looked after their father, Alec was the artist, and Malcolm kept the distillery running and the farm producing. Will had felt at loose ends, and ran off at an early age to see the world. He’d stayed in the world, finding exciting things to do, people who needed him—far better than kicking around at home in the way, or so he said.

“What happens to you is not important?” Josette heard her voice rise to the full-voiced shout that her daughter knew meant trouble. “Is that what you are telling me, Will Mackenzie, that no one will care if you live or die? Do we mean so little to you?”

She said we, but Josette meant herself. She knew Glenna would grieve hard if something happened to Will, and the men in this room would be sorry, but Josette would descend into a well of pain she might never climb out of.

To Will’s steady gaze, she said, “You’re a bloody selfish bastard, and I’m sorry I ever spared time for you.”

“She’s pegged you right,” Bhreac said. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. When he’s swinging, I’ll comfort you.”

Josette seized her wine glass and dashed its contents into Bhreac’s face. Bhreac skidded back in his chair in astonishment, coming to his feet and wiping his eyes. Then he burst out laughing.

“You chose yourself a vixen, Willie. Wise man. If you’ll excuse me, your lordship, I’ll go dry meself.”

Without waiting for Wilfort’s acknowledgment, he strolled from the room, mopping his face with a snowy linen napkin.

Wilfort studied Will with a hard expression. “You are now the heir, not the spare. Your father has been declared dead, and so has your oldest brother. Duncan had no issue. That makes you Duke of Kilmorgan, as next brother in line.”

Will turned a slight shade of green. “I’ll stay deceased, thank you very much. Malcolm loves Kilmorgan, and he has a wife and son. Give it to the Runt to pass on to his descendants.”

“Yes, indeed,” Josette said tartly. “Shove the responsibility onto Malcolm. Heaven forbid you take up any mantle of care. You might have to stay in one place more than a week, and acknowledge that your friends don’t want you to leave.”

Will’s befuddlement changed to anger in the space of a breath. “Love, if I come back to life and claim the dukedom for myself, I’ll be killed, and so will those who harbored me. No quarter given. That means you.” He pointed a broad finger at her. “Malcolm is good at turning people up sweet. He’ll have his house, his lands, his future. I couldn’t stick bowing and scraping to the English bastards who gutted my brothers, and I’d be dead in a trice. Is that what you want?”

“And you turn an argument around to suit yourself,” Josette snapped. “Your brave idea is to have Malcolm give you over to those same English bastards so he’ll be left in peace. While you do what? Dive from a dock and swim back to the Continent?”

“If I have to.” He tried a smile, the devilish smile that said he’d walk through hell and be fine. But he’d leave Josette behind to do it.

Josette slammed down her empty glass. “You go ahead. Bring Malcolm to Scotland. Have him give you over to the British army. But you’ll get no good-bye from me, and no welcome if you manage to escape either. I am finished waiting and fearing for you, Will Mackenzie. If you go, you go alone.”

She’d said more than she meant, but the words rang with conviction. Josette gathered her skirts and marched for the door without looking at Will or the other two gentlemen.

She heard heavy silence behind her, felt eyes on her back, but she opened the door and swept into the empty hall, the chill of it embracing her as tears flooded her eyes.

“Mrs. Oswald is right,” Captain Ellis said with a scowl once they heard Josette’s rapid footsteps on the stairs. “It is a foolish plan. Do you care so little for her that you’d risk your life?”

Lord Wilfort said nothing, but his firm mouth told Will he agreed with Ellis.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Will turned from their disapproving stares and went out the door Josette had left open.

The hall and staircase were empty. Will heard the click of Josette’s heels above him then the slam of a door.

He took the stairs two at a time and managed to dive into Josette’s bedchamber before she could lock the door. Not that she’d bothered. She was already gathering her few belongings into a bundle and didn’t turn around when Will charged in.

“Josette, love, don’t go.”

Josette gazed at him through the mirror on her dressing table. “Why not? I’ve finished my mission. I have enough for the ladies to bribe their husbands’ way to freedom and for me to take Glenna far away, out of Chadwick’s reach.” She patted the casket on her dressing table. “Or do you want me to stay because you know I’m taking the gold?”

“I don’t give a damn about a box of coins. Take it, spend it, dump it into the North Sea if you want to.”

Josette nodded, her eyes wise but so very sad. “You say that because you know you can get the rest from Mr. Macdonald or make him show you where it is.”

“Will ye cease telling me my own plans? Particularly when you don’t know them?” Will balled his fists and tried to rein in his temper. “Anyway, my idea thwarts Colonel Chadwick. He can’t threaten you into giving me to him if I’ve already been surrendered to the British.”

“I have half a mind to run to his house right now and shove you at him.” Josette slammed the nightgown Henri had bought at the secondhand shop into the sack that served as her valise. “And how can I help speculating on your plans? I can only guess what you mean to do. Will trusts no one, not even the woman who loves him.”

Will stilled. Josette turned crimson and quickly bowed her head over her packing.

Love? Will had never heard the word cross her lips. Josette loved her daughter. She tolerated Will and enjoyed being his lover—that was all.

He was across the room to her in the space of a moment. “What did you say?”

Josette wouldn’t look at him, a lock of sable hair falling over her cheek. “Never you mind.”

“I do mind.” Will laid a hand on her arm, making himself keep his touch soft. “You can’t love me, lass. There’s nothing lovable about me.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Will turned her to face him. Her cheeks were blotchy, her eyes wet, and she still refused to look up.

He rubbed a thumb across her cheekbone, and Josette’s chest rose with a swift breath.

“I don’t want to love you,” she said rapidly. “It makes my life horrible—I’m always wondering whether you’re dead or alive, if you’re fine and haven’t bothered to tell me. I try not to love you. I’d stop if I could.”

Will’s throat went tight. He stroked her cheek. “Lass.”

“I’d never trap you,” Josette said. “I don’t want you to tie yourself to my side and live in my pocket like Sir William does with Anna—you’re not that sort. But you care for no one, and that’s cruel to your friends. We tear ourselves apart trying not to worry about you, but it’s impossible.”

Will gave her an incredulous look. “I care for no one? Why the devil do you think I’ve come here—to Scotland, Edinburgh, where it’s death for me to walk? I came to beg for my brother, so he can live the life he deserves. I took myself to Sir Harmon’s godawful house to help the women who turned to you. To help your daughter. To help you. If I don’t care, then what the devil am I doing here?”

Josette remained stiff. “You’re playing the gallant knight who charges in to save the world. You chose that silly costume for the masked ball for a reason. You rush about trying to put everyone’s life to rights, never mind what they want. You’ve disappeared so many times—I am never certain whether I’m happy to see you again or dismayed.”

Will caught her hand. “I always want to see you again, Josie. Always.”

“How the devil do you think I felt when I saw the broadsheets proclaiming all those dead at Culloden? Listing your name? It was horrible. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days—Glenna was terrified I would die.”

Will kissed her fingers, pain a hard ball in his chest. “You know I sent word as soon as I could.”

“And I was so angry.” Josette at last looked directly at him, wells of fury and anguish in her eyes. “I received your cheerful note that told me you were well and on your way to France with your brothers. You could not bother to tell me in person—you were right not to. I wanted you to turn up so I could kill you myself.”

“Lass.” The word was a whisper.

Will hadn’t known she’d react so to news of his death. Josette had always been brisk, matter-of-fact, understanding that Will had no choice but to depart when he’d prefer to linger, to breathe her in. She’d been the one to ask him to leave, several times.

He’d always been right to go, which kept his enemies from finding her or using her to trap him. Until recently, that is. Not that Colonel Chadwick was his enemy—the man was playing some kind of game, and Will would stop it.

When Josette turned from him, Will stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Don’t go, love. Not this time.”

She didn’t lean into him but also didn’t pull away. “I can’t stay if you plan to let your brother hand you to the king’s men. I can’t be here to watch that.”

“A temporary measure—”

“I know you believe you’ll easily escape them, but what if you can’t? Even if you manage it, you’ll never be able to set foot in Scotland again. You keep saying you’re fighting for your brother to return to the Highlands, that you need to be here, in your home, but you’re ensuring that you’ll have to flee. Far, far away—farther than your dad’s house in Paris. So far I might never see you again.”

“No.” Will nuzzled her cheek, loving the silk of her hair. “You and I would come together, no matter what. We always do. The world hasn’t been able to separate us so far, love. It never will.”

“You also always believe you can do what you please,” Josette said, her voice softer but no less sad. “With no consequences.”

“Oh, there are consequences.” He heard the helpless rage in his words. “I lost my brothers, my home, and my own name, because I didn’t do enough. I can never do enough …”

He didn’t mean to break down. Will was always the tough one, the Mackenzie who had every situation under his control. He let men capture him so he could learn their secrets, vanishing from under their noses when he was done. He discovered their plans and fed them to the right ears so people wouldn’t die.

But sometimes …

It was never enough. Wars happened, and people died anyway. Will tried to make his words, his actions, save others, but he couldn’t be everywhere, save everyone. He hadn’t been able to save his young brother Magnus, who’d died from a weak heart, or Angus, trying to keep Duncan alive, or the arrogant Duncan himself.

“I took care of the family, because Duncan never would,” he heard himself say. “Duncan was about glory and dreams. I had to be the practical one.”

He felt Josette’s touch, but the room had darkened for him. “I know,” she whispered.

“I left home to make life better for them. Malcolm stayed home for the same reason. He looked Kilmorgan while I roamed the world, searching for the answer.”

“There isn’t one.” Josette’s words were as soft as her touch.

“I am learning that, my love. It’s why everything’s such a mess.”

And there was no one in the world he could tell. Nobody who would understand like Josette Oswald, a woman who had stood against the world, alone, to protect her daughter.

No, not alone. Will would never let Josette be alone.

Josette turned in his arms to face him. “You’re trying to put it right. But I can’t watch you put it right by sacrificing yourself. I can’t bear that. We must try a different way.”

“We.” Will tilted her face to him. “Does that mean you’ll stay? Walk beside me every wretched step?”

Suspicion cut her softness. “Only if you give up this mad idea of having Mal hand you over. Promise me you won’t do that, and I’ll stay. For now.”

“Only for now?” Will’s heart felt suddenly lighter. “You said you loved me. Fickle woman.”

“I was a fool to say so. You’ll hold it against me, use it to your advantage—”

“You don’t think much of me, do you, lass?” Will cupped her face. “What I’ll do with your words is treasure them. Press them to my heart and keep them always.”

“Charming me once more.”

“I’m not the Mackenzie with the charm,” Will said. “The charming ones are Malcolm and Alec. But what I have that they don’t, is you.”

Josette stared at him, her dark eyes wet. “Damn you,” she whispered, and then she rose on tiptoes and kissed him.

The kiss left Josette’s control very quickly. Will cupped her head in his hands, fingers loosening her hair as he opened her mouth with his.

He was impossibly strong, pulling Josette against him, one foot sliding between hers. He kissed her as though this was their last kiss for some time to come, and her heart squeezed, fearing it might be so.

Will eased back, but instead of finishing and walking away, he drew her closer, kissing her again, harder this time. His fingers bit down, lips commanding, the kiss growing fierce.

Josette fumbled at his coat, finding the buttons that held it closed, jerking them open. That barrier gone, she slid her hands inside, across the satin waistcoat that cupped Will’s hard muscles. He was warm beneath the slippery fabric, fine to touch.

Will licked across her mouth and drew her lower lip between his. Josette made a wordless sound and let her hands move from his waistcoat down the breeches that hugged his backside. Will jumped, bumping her mouth, but he didn’t break the kiss.

Only when she drew her hand to the front of his breeches, unbuttoning the flap did Will lift his head with a gasp.

“Lass,” he growled, his eyes burning. “I warn ye—no.”

Josette slanted him a smile, her lips raw from his kisses, and dropped the front of his breeches. Will dragged in a ragged breath as his cock tumbled free.