Josette had known he’d stood in the fold of darkness, listening. Will had taught her how to sense a presence, and she’d known exactly when he’d arrived. She’d also known he would reveal that presence only when he was ready.

Lillias, predictably, snatched up a poker, ready to strike. “Ye told us he’d be out at least another day.”

“He ought to be.” Josette glared at Will. “I wager he’s barely keeping himself to his feet.”

Will’s sway told Josette she was right. He was gray around the edges, the plaid gaping to show tanned flesh with a wan tone.

Glenna had leapt from her stool with a glad cry and now rushed to Will and flung her arms around him.

“Are ye chuffed to see us, Uncle Will? We thought you were a dead man, but ye rose again, didn’t ye?”

Will lifted Glenna and spun her around, much as he’d done when she was a mite.

“I am right chuffed, little lass,” he said as he set her on her feet. “How have you been keeping yourself?”

Glenna bussed him loudly on the cheek. “I’ve been keeping well. Hear you’ve gone and been captured a number of times. Thought you were more careful.”

Will dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m always careful, little dove. I let myself be captured on purpose—what better way to find out what the enemy is up to than to hear what questions they ask?”

“Ha,” Lillias said. “More likely he stumbled into their traps, probably sang all kinds of songs about our men and our families, who are being hunted down one by one.”

Will regarded her without much surprise. “Lillias McIver. The little hellion who used to follow my younger brothers and get into much mischief. Mal was fond of you, I remember.”

“And I’d be whipped because of that mischief.” Lillias jerked the windlass, sending a spatter of grease into the fire. “Entirely their fault.”

“Why’d ye keep following them, then? Thought you’d safely married yourself off and settled down. But there ye were, popping up behind me and whacking me with a shovel.” Will gingerly touched the bandage on the side of his head.

“My man’s a guest of His Majesty, isn’t he?” Lillias snapped. “Captured on Culloden Moor. And the likes of you will get him killed, blundering about, giving up information to English soldiers.”

“English soldiers didn’t get a word out of me. Not even my name.” Will’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Lillias. Where is your husband being held?”

“I don’t know.” Frustration and grief filled her voice. “But he won’t come out except at the end of a rope. Or maybe gutted where he stands.”

“If he’s alive, I’ll get him out,” Will said with conviction. “Ye have my promise on that.”

Lillias turned away. “Ha. The word of a Mackenzie. Does nae give me reassurance.”

Will caught Josette’s eye. He wished to speak to her privately, she knew, wanted her to tell him exactly what was going on.

But these ladies didn’t trust him—didn’t trust much of anyone—not that Josette could blame them.

Josette’s entire world had changed the day Will Mackenzie had walked into his brothers’ rooms in Paris, Will tall, strong, and nonchalantly arrogant. His whisky-colored gaze had rested on Josette, who’d reposed in her altogether, nothing between her and the world but a wisp of red cloth and the bend of her arm shielding one breast.

Will hadn’t seemed much impressed. He’d winked at her, acknowledging she was in the room, but that was all. As though naked women draped about his brother’s apartments was a common occurrence, which it had been. Alec had received commissions from cardinals, archbishops, princes, and dukes who wanted mythological and allegorical paintings, most of which involved voluptuous women with no clothes on.

Josette, desperate for coin to feed her daughter, had become a model—in truth, her landlord had more or less rented her out to neighboring artists. Then the artists, liking the look of her, had begun hiring Josette for more and more wages. They’d also appreciated the fact that she arrived at the appointed time and didn’t mind holding uncomfortable poses for hours.

Will had taken her away from the indignity—and the discomfort and the chill—of posing and gave her another way to earn money for Glenna. She’d be forever grateful to him, but Lillias wasn’t wrong that he always played his own game.

She made her decision. “We tell him,” Josette said to the silent and waiting women. “Now that he knows we’ve gathered here, we can’t let him go, so we might as well make use of him.”

Will’s brows went up. He knew good and well Josette could never force him to remain where he didn’t want to be, but he did not contradict her. He was good at pretending to be a prisoner until he was ready to leave, just as he’d done at the army camp. The fact that he hadn’t already vanished into the Highlands told Josette he was at least curious about why they were here.

“What is it?” he asked. “A plot to free all the men captured by the Butcher? A daunting task, but I’ll help, if that’s the case. I wouldn’t mind tweaking the noses of the king and his dear son.”

“Partly.” Josette drew a breath, aware of all eyes on her, some filled with anger, others with fear. Mysie Forster’s hands remained fixed in the dough. Lillias’s spit halted, and the roasting chicken’s skin crackled as it burned.

“We’re looking for the shipload of gold that came to the Highlands from France before Culloden,” Josette said in a rush. “The gold that vanished. It has to be somewhere, in someone’s hands. We intend to find it.”

Will listened quietly, his face a careful blank, then shook his head. “Lass, ye know the gold is long gone. Either captured by the king’s men or stolen by Highlanders and used to get themselves out of Scotland. The French gold’s a legend now.”

Josette knew good and well Will didn’t believe that. Last June, he’d discovered that English soldiers were holding and torturing Scotsmen in secret. One thing the English soldiers had been trying to discover was the whereabouts of the French gold, convinced the Highlanders they’d captured knew its location.

Will’s brother Alec had rescued him, and Will had accompanied Alec and his new wife, Celia, to Paris. A few months ago, Josette had received a letter from Celia that Will had vanished again. Will often slipped away on his own, but he’d send word to the family that he was well—very likely so they’d leave him be. This time, however, Will had disappeared without a trace.

As Will frequently disappeared without a trace, the family was not yet worried, but Celia asked Josette to keep an eye out for him.

Josette had learned from Will how to be alert to any information that might chance her way. Most of the information that passed through Josette’s London boarding house was innocuous—day-to-day life—but once in a while, she heard a nugget that was valuable.

Such as a Highland ghost terrifying army camps in Scotland, coupled with the rumors that the French gold was still floating about.

Conclusion—Will knew bloody well the gold was intact and he was looking into its whereabouts. What he hadn’t known was that Josette and her army of ladies also wanted it.

Will leaned on the doorpost, folding his arms, his expression well masked. “How were ye thinking to find it? When it’s gone forever?”

“We don’t believe it is,” Mysie said.

Lillias spoke in anguish. “If we tell him everything, he’ll take it for himself.”

“Now, now.” Will settled in more comfortably. “I can’t well walk off with a legend. And I’m not all that greedy. I have enough put by to live out my days in comfort.”

“You have money on the Continent,” Josette pointed out. “Not in Scotland.”

Will shrugged. “I’m a dead man here. My name is blazoned on the rolls of the deceased. So, no, I won’t be purchasing a grand estate and settling down in the Highlands.”

He spoke lightly, but Josette saw bitterness in his eyes. She knew exactly why Will didn’t remain in Paris, Amsterdam, or Basel, where he could do well for himself, why he continued to return to Scotland.

This was his home, a part of his flesh and bones. He could no more stay from here than Josette could banish herself forever from Glenna.

“Tell me why you think the gold still exists,” Will said, sounding interested. “And why a regiment of women wants it.”

“Ye don’t need to know why,” Lillias growled.

Will pinned her with his golden Mackenzie stare, and for the first time since Josette had met her, she saw Lillias falter.

Will’s stare could wilt the most hardened soldier. Josette had watched him reduce brave men, who supposed a tall Highlander the equivalent of a backward fool, to babbling incoherence when he turned the might of his gaze upon them.

Likely this was why he’d never raised his eyes to his captors in the camp. They’d have realized they were dealing with a dangerous man, not a sorry specimen they happened to find wandering the fields in the dark.

Will flicked his gaze from Lillias, and she quickly returned to the spit before their supper burned away.

“We’ve heard things,” Josette answered into the awkward silence. “Enough to believe the money is real. In one place, not scattered.”

“All right then.” Will scraped an empty stool from the wall and sat down. Josette knew he’d have kept to his feet had he not been tired and weak, but he’d never admit it. “Where is this one place?”

“We’re not entirely certain,” Josette said. “I’ve been piecing through the stories, most of which I’m sure are wrong. Somewhere on the west coast.”

“Ah, a very precise location.”

“Do not mock. It took quite a lot of time and care to narrow it down that far.”

Will’s grin nearly undid her. “And I admire ye for it. Now ye want me to help ye narrow it down further? Maybe lead ye right to it?”

Josette looked at him without flinching. “That was the idea, yes.”

“Will you help us, Uncle Will?” Glenna had been good at curbing her impatience, but the girl had her limits. “Do say ya will. When we have the money, we can use it to free the ladies’ menfolk and get them to France or Amsterdam, or wherever we can manage. Lillias can have her husband back, and Mysie her brother and sons. Mum and me can go live in a grand house in London and never have to grub for our bread again.”

“Glenna!” Josette broke through her babbling. She had no idea whether Glenna knew Josette’s true reason for wanting a bit of the gold, but Glenna was canny, and the girl never held anything back from Will.

“Why not tell him?” Glenna asked in irritation. “We don’t want to overthrow the king or anything, just get back to home and family.”

Will’s piercing stare softened as he regarded Glenna, who watched him with great hope.

“I see,” he said, his voice quiet. “In that case, ladies, I will see what I can do.”

Will returned to his small room to strip down and take stock of his injuries. Not so bad. The captain who’d captured him had punched and kicked him, but Will’s thick coat and plaid—since confiscated—had helped cushion the blows. His bruises were still black, his ribs sore, but fortunately not cracked.

His ankles were raw from the ropes that had bound them, his wrists likewise. He’d nearly dislocated his shoulder leaping up, attached to the stool, to hit Major Haworth, but rolling it now showed it was flexible if sore.

The clout Lillias McIvor had given him still made his head ring.

Will usually healed quickly—his body did, that is. His heart and his mind—that was a different thing.

“If the likes of Lillias had been at Culloden,” he said to the curtain in the doorway, “the Hanoverians would have run like deer.”

He’d observed Josette peek in and then abruptly drop the cloth when she saw he was stark naked. She’d never objected to his bareness before, but the curtain remained stubbornly in place.

Will slid the trews that must have been made of the roughest fiber from the threshing floor over his hips and tied them at the waist. His backside was not happy with him.

“Enter,” he called. “I won’t offend ye now.”

Josette’s cheeks were red when she slid into the chamber, and she looked everywhere but at his exposed chest. “Are you feeling better?”

“As you saw.” Will sat on the pallet and patted the blankets beside him. “Come, tell me what this is all about.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.” Josette folded her arms.

Will grinned and splayed his hand over his chest. “Ah, ye wound me, lass.”

“You have beguiling ways, Willie. I’ll keep my distance, if you don’t mind.”

Will’s heart squeezed as he leaned back on his elbows. “And no one has called me Willie in a long while.”

“Your family ceased speaking to you, have they?”

In spite of her light words, Josette’s hands clenched and unclenched, and her stance was rigid. What did she fear? Him?

“Let me look at ye, lass. I haven’t seen ye for a time.”

Josette lifted her chin. “That’s your own fault.”

“I know, but …” Will let the words linger as he ran his gaze over her. “Indulge me.”

Josette frowned but unfolded her arms and let them drop to her sides.

She dressed simply, as always, her round gown modestly draped, a cream-colored stomacher embroidered with chocolate-brown flowers covering a butternut bodice and skirts. Lace trimmed the cuffs of her elbow-length sleeves, and a linen fichu wrapped her neck, the ends tucked into the top of her bodice. No wide panniers or plunging neckline, no wig or fussy cap, only Josette’s dark brown hair in a simple knot.

Will flashed to the last time they’d played the game together—she’d worn a grand gown of blue silk dripping with lace, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in sleek curls. She’d been a luscious coquette, peering around her fan, a roguish twinkle in her eyes. Her bodice had shown a fair amount of shoulders and a bosom glittering with diamonds.

That had been their last venture together—the one that made Josette tell him she was finished and needed to raise her daughter in safety.

Hence, the London boarding house, where Will had thought her even now.

“Where exactly am I?” he asked.

Josette hesitated, as though debating what to tell him, then she beckoned. “Come with me,” she said and turned and ducked out the door.