Bhreac had gone straight to the kitchen and was seated at the table by the time Will and Josette reached it, spooning hot soup into his mouth. He seemed not at all surprised to be watched by more than half a dozen women, from which Will concluded he’d seen them or discerned them no matter how they’d hidden when he’d first arrived.

While he’d been gone, they’d decided they couldn’t very well keep the presence of the ladies from him, but they could be careful what they told him.

“Wind’s turned bitter,” he said by way of greeting. His face was red and chapped, and his hands, now free of gloves, were a bit blue.

A large canvas sack lay open on the work table, Mysie unpacking it. She brought out two small casks and more sacks, which she peered into with satisfaction.

“Broach the whisky, love,” Bhreac said. “Just the thing.”

Mysie handed one cask to another woman and put the second under her arm. “Nay. When men begin the drinking, nothing useful gets done. You’ll have them when the day is over.”

Bhreac looked aggrieved. “Bloody hell, Will. Are ye going to let them get away with that?”

Will hid his amusement. “I’m here on their sufferance, so yes. Josette said you had news?”

Bhreac nodded. The women, including Josette, pretended to carry on with tasks, but they watched and listened.

“There’s a few ships in Loch Broom, and they have plenty of guns. Not sure why the Royal Navy feels it necessary to patrol near Ullapool, but they’re there. Villagers ’round about are not happy, but so far, the ships are hovering off the coast, not doing much of anything.”

“Looking for someone?”

Bhreac shrugged. “Mayhap. But it can’t be you—you’re dead.”

Probably couldn’t be Will, but he kept this to himself. “I’m not the only Highlander that’s a thorn in their side.”

Josette sent him a worried look. How could they search for the gold with naval ships prowling? Will wanted to reassure her that he had another destination in mind, but he didn’t want to reveal too much in front of Bhreac.

“’Tis good knowledge to have,” Will said. “I thank ye.”

“Are ye going to tell me now why you’ve gathered so many women about you?” Bhreac grinned, but curiosity flickered in his eyes.

“Can ye picture me in any other circumstance but surrounded by beautiful women?” Will asked with a serious expression.

Lillias scoffed, and a few others rolled their eyes.

Bhreac, finished with his soup, pushed his bowl away. “I’d say they barely put up with you. But it’s all right. Ye don’t have to tell me. That way I can’t reveal any secrets.”

Will leaned against the table and folded his arms in an unworried stance. He knew Bhreac felt the tension in the room, and Bhreac knew that Will knew he did. They’d danced around each other a long time.

The money the French had sent to help the Jacobite cause hadn’t been a few caskets of coins. It had been enough to fund an army through a winter. The fact that such a huge sum had simply vanished was deeply suspicious.

And now Bhreac had turned up out of nowhere, worming his way into the castle in his good-natured way. Even more suspicious.

“I’m teaching them how to eke out a living,” Will said. “Soldiers forced them out of their homes, and they had nowhere to go. What I’d like is to convince them to take what they can and go to the Continent, but you know what Highlanders are like about Scotland.”

“Aye, Borderlanders are much the same.” Bhreac scraped back his stool and stood up. “Well, I won’t press ye. But know this, Will. If ye need me, I’m here to help. I promise you.”

The look he gave Will held nothing but guileless interest. Will returned the look with one as ingenuous, and Bhreac grinned.

He left the room, saying he’d find himself a chamber out of the way and sleep. The merry tune he whistled drifted after him.

Beitris raised her head and watched him go, then lay back down with a grunt. She’d found a warm place by the fire, and had already learned that her mournful brown gaze would quickly send a scrap her way.

Will surveyed the eight Highland women who gazed back at him without fear. They’d come from all corners and clans—besides Lillias and Mysie, there were two Campbells, a lady who’d married into a branch of the Mackenzies, a Sinclair, and two MacLeods. Their men had fought and had been captured for a lost dream.

If any deserved that French gold, it was these lasses.

Will gave them a bow, an acknowledgment of their courage and determination. He’d retrieve that gold for them, and they’d all live to tell the tale. He swore it on his blood.

“You’ve decided to help.” Josette found Will in the map room not long later, as she thought she might.

He glanced over his shoulder as she entered. “I’ve said so.”

“I know you said. But now you’ve decided. Before, you’d planned to play your own game.”

“Ah, she knows me so well,” Will said to the wall above the table. “Frightening, that.”

Josette let out a breath. “Well, I’m glad you’ve come to see it our way.”

“What do you want the gold for, Josette?” He turned to face her in one of his quick moves, his golden gaze searching.

“To take Glenna back to France,” she said quickly. “To live in a cottage with a garden and be done with drudgery.”

Not a lie. Josette did plan to do so when it was all over. She’d seek a place no one could find them or threaten them ever again.

Will studied her, looking for truth. Well, he’d find it soon enough. Will Mackenzie was the best man she knew. And yet, she’d leave him behind to save Glenna. He understood that, and didn’t hold it against her.

He turned away as though they hadn’t had a mute argument and resolution.

“I have an idea where to start looking for the gold,” he said. “You won’t like it, but it’s worth a try.”

Josette came to the table and leaned to look where he pointed, trying not to enjoy the warmth of him so close.

She’d feared he’d be determined to go to Kilmorgan, no matter what, but he indicated a patch of land on the western coast. It lay across a loch from the Isle of Skye, very near the castle of Eilean Donan he’d told her about earlier today. Josette wondered if this was why he’d related the tale.

“What is there?” she asked.

“The estate of an Englishman who hates Scotland. Sir Harmon Bentley. He made a pile of money in the Caribbean and settled here to enjoy his gains. Was an MP and then in the Cabinet, and English to the bone. He surrounds himself with gentlemen he entices to fish on his wild Scottish estate, and ships in every bit of luxury he can.”

Josette gazed at the innocuous spot. “Why would such a man need the French gold? Or know where it is?”

“He’s a fraud,” Will said. “He spends lavishly, but he’s chosen this remote area because creditors in London stay home and go after easier prey. If he thought a shipload of gold was somewhere in the Highlands, he’d make it his business to know where it was and try to get his hands on it. Even if he doesn’t have it, he might know where it’s likely to be.”

“I see.” Will knew about people, and if he said this man could have information, then he probably did. “Why wouldn’t I like it?” she asked.

“Because the only way into his confidence is to be covert. He’d never tell a Scotsman. But he might boast about the lost gold to Sir William Jacobs and Anna, his lovely wife.”

Josette went cold as she stared at him in dismay. “You want us to pretend to be husband and wife again? But Sir William and Anna disappeared after Marsden House. Never to be heard from again.”

“Returned to the Continent after they spent too much as usual,” Will said, waving the difficulty away. “Sir Harmon, a fellow profligate will believe that. And if he has guests—and he will—if they happen to know our earl from Salisbury or by chance have met Sir William and Anna before, it will be much less dangerous if we play the same roles.”

Josette folded her arms. “I take your point, but this is the Highlands. Won’t those who live near Sir Harmon know you as Will Mackenzie? The servants who work at the house might recognize you at the very least.”

Will shook his head. “Sir Harmon brings an English staff with him, won’t even use a Scottish ghillie—thus incurring the wrath of every villager in the area. The English servants don’t venture out much, terrified of the barbarian Scots beyond the gates. If villagers do happen to glimpse me, I doubt they’d betray me to a man like Sir Harmon.”

“You are very certain I will do this with you.” Josette hugged herself more tightly. The last time they’d gone on this sort of venture, things had become dire, and not just because the villain of the piece had tried to kill them. “Why can’t you go in alone? Why do you need a wife?”

“More believable,” Will said, the answer too quick. “A gentleman turning up out of the blue is suspicious. But a man and wife making a tour of Scotland, needing a place to stay, and blessing their stars they found a civilized Englishman, is much more credible.”

“Yes,” Josette admitted reluctantly. “It’s impossible, though.” She regarded him with triumph. “Where will we find a coach and good horses that can stand the Highland roads—or lack thereof—not to mention fine clothes? We look like laborers, at present, and we can’t very well turn up with a donkey and cart. We’d never be let in the gate.”

“That ye can leave to me. And Bhreac. Lucky he turned up so he can run errands for me—I don’t think you and your ladies will let me out of your sight.”

“Lucky,” Josette repeated. “Strangely so.”

“Aye, well, he comes and goes—this is as usual for him. Meanwhile, I say we make use of him.”

Josette liked intrigue to be simple, but Will loved it complicated—the more so, the better. “What I understand is that you’ll have your way, Will Mackenzie.”

Will flashed her his wicked grin, the one she could never resist. “Aye. I’m glad you agree with me.”

Josette threw up her hands in exasperation. “Very well, I’ll do it—not that you’ve asked, or said please. I’ll do it for the sake of the ladies and their menfolk, but not for your enjoyment. I’ll pretend to be your wife, but only in the presence of others. When we are alone … I have already told you, this will not be like Salisbury.”

“I know.” Will’s smile remained in place, his eyes holding an intensity that was difficult to meet. He didn’t touch Josette or reach for her—he kept his hand on the table and several feet of space between them.

But he might as well have entwined her in his arms and not let go. Josette knew that accompanying him to this house would be walking into the lion’s den. The most dangerous man in there wouldn’t be Sir Harmon and his English friends. Not to her heart anyway.

“Blast you,” Josette growled. “You keep your distance, understand?”

Will took a step back and lifted his hands. “I’d never do a thing you didn’t want, my Josie.”

He spoke the stark truth. Anything he and Josette had shared, she had rushed toward, welcomed, and held close. The pain at the end had been her own fault, her reward for trying to touch a shooting star.

However Bhreac managed to procure a coach and four, as well as a pile of satin and silk clothes, he did it. There was even a pouch of coins to go with it—they’d need to tip the servants if they wanted hot water in the morning, and also have money for cards and other games ladies and gentlemen would be expected to play.

Will told Josette it was not wise to inquire too closely how Bhreac had obtained everything. But like Will, the man knew everyone in Scotland.

Josette’s difficulty was not the disguise but persuading the others that this was the best means of obtaining information.

“I should go with you,” Glenna argued, sullen. “I can be your lady’s maid. I’m a Londoner enough for them to believe it.”

“You also look enough like me for them to believe you my daughter,” Josette returned firmly.

“I can pry information out of the servants, you know that. Same as I do at home.” To Glenna, “home” was the London boarding house. She adored London, and Josette knew it would be a wrench for her when they had to leave for France. But leave they must.

“This is far more dangerous,” Josette said.

Glenna clenched her hands. “I don’t want to stay here with these Scottish biddies. They talk so I don’t understand them, and Lillias constantly scolds me.”

“For heaven’s sake.” Josette rarely shouted at Glenna, but lately the girl, on the uneasy edge of womanhood, was driving her distracted. “I am not having you running about the house of a country squire filled with the Lord knows who. You are a pretty young woman, and if you dress as a maid, you will be fair game for any of them who want an easy tumble. If you fight them, ’twill be you they blame, and if ye hurt any of them trying to get free, they’ll arrest and hang you. This is what happens in the houses of English country gentlemen.”

Glenna’s mouth hung open, her rebelliousness evaporating. “But Will and you will be there,” she said faintly.

“And if Will betrays himself in attempt to save you, he’ll be taken as a traitor, and they do horrible things to traitors. Do ye want that, daughter? To be the means of his death? Perhaps mine for harboring him?”

Glenna’s eyes fixed, her breath coming fast. She silently shook her head.

Josette softened. “Now, I don’t mean to frighten you, love, but all I say is true. It’s best you stay here, out of harm’s way. Lillias is only afraid for her husband. Try to see things from her point, and if you don’t understand the Scottish talk, ask them to teach you. You pick up languages quick enough.”

Glenna’s bravado had evaporated, and tears stood in her eyes. Josette gathered her in an embrace, burying her face in Glenna’s soft hair.

From the moment Glenna had been placed into her arms by a rather surly midwife, Josette had loved and felt a sense of intense protectiveness for this girl. Glenna was now tall and beautiful, ripe for a gentleman with no scruples to prey upon.

She’d die for this child. It might come to that, Josette knew. She walked a thin line, like acrobats she’d seen tumbling on a rope stretched tight ten feet above the ground.

She’d learned intrigue from Will Mackenzie. If Josette were to survive this, she’d have to have him teach her to be a master at it.

The carriage could not climb the rocky, boggy paths to Strathy Castle, so Will and Josette, with Bhreac, walked to a coaching inn near a village on the shores of Loch Canaird.

Will kept himself well cloaked with a hat pulled down over his eyes, stooping to hide his height. He let Bhreac and Josette deal with the man and wife at the coaching inn, pretending to be a servant in the background.

Bhreac paid the ostler for looking after their rig and Will climbed to the coachman’s box. Josette emerged from the inn with the bundles of clothes Bhreac had procured and let Bhreac hand her into the coach, he joining her.

A few miles down the rutted road, with nothing but the sea in sight, Will stopped the carriage and leapt down. He and Bhreac changed their clothing behind a boulder, giving Josette privacy to dress inside the coach.

“I need a maid,” she said through the open window. “It is impossible to lace myself. I ought to have relented and brought one of the ladies with me, I suppose.”

Will, clad now in velvet breeches, silk stockings, and a brocade coat dripping with so many ribbons and laces the fabric could scarcely be seen, opened the door and heaved himself inside. The sight of Josette half-dressed, holding her bodice modestly over her loose corset, nearly undid him.

“Any of our ladies would betray themselves too quickly,” Will answered to distract himself. “Even the gentlest of them. Sir Harmon quartered British soldiers last year and has handed every Highlander within fifty miles of his land over to the English, whether the Highlanders fought for Prince Teàrlach or not.” He studied Josette in her undress, and grinned. “You’ll just have to make do with me.”

She did not like the prospect, Will could see, but Josette was ever practical. She sighed and turned around so he could lace her corset.

The carriage lurched forward. Bhreac, having donned coachman’s livery, had taken the reins.

Josette landed on Will’s lap. He enjoyed her soft body squirming there before he eased her away and continued with the corset. He knew to tighten the laces in the middle of her back, not top or bottom, to draw the stays to the natural curve of Josette’s body.

The bodice went over this, a pretty thing of green silk trimmed with blue ruched ribbon, and a stomacher embroidered with entwined flowers.

“Lovely,” Will breathed in her ear. “Bhreac did well.”

“He knows much about women’s clothing,” Josette said. “Perhaps you ought to question him about that.”

Will chuckled. “I know much about it too, my lady love. Do you need help with your skirts?”

Josette sent him a dark look and scrambled to her side of the carriage. She shoved the petticoat into place and slid into the overdress, tying tapes to connect the two.

Will couldn’t cease watching her, bathing in every moment. “I am remembering the other times I’ve dressed you. At Salisbury, in Paris, and that small coaching inn outside London.”

Josette kept her face averted, her loosened curls moving on her shoulders. She’d transformed in an instant from the matronly housekeeper to a lush gentlewoman used to finery and men’s attentions. Josette took off and put on personas nearly as easily as Will did.

“I remember too,” she said, her face flushed.

Will sat back, flipping ribbons out of his way. He’d be used to the ostentatious clothes by the time they reached their destination, but they certainly were annoying. How did dandies put up with them?

“Will?” Josette said, peeping up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

“Mmm?” Will’s imagination sent him all kinds of places, but he braced his feet on the floor and answered nonchalantly. “What is that, my love?”

Josette looked unhappy. Her eyes filled with anguish as she said, “I need to tell you the truth. I was not searching for you only because I needed your help. I was tasked to find you, and betray you. The ladies looking for the gold simply gave me the opportunity. I think it only fair that you know.”