Chapter Seven
Elizabet patted the horse, giving his nose a good rub. “Must we continue on so soon? Surely resting for a day or two wouldn’t do any harm.”
Jack gave her a small, intimate smile, the type she’d only dreamed of getting from a man. While she didn’t look forward to returning home and all that it entailed, the actual journey had been far more pleasurable than spending all day on a horse should be. Largely due to the fact that she had to ride with Jack, nestled in the cocoon of his arms. Several days of such riding had made her strangely attuned to him.
He boosted her onto the horse and settled in behind her. “Dinna fash. We should arrive at the cottage in a few hours. Then tomorrow, I’ll take ye to a place where ye can arrange to be taken home.”
Her heart fell. “So soon? I thought it would take longer.”
His only response was to tighten his arms about her and nudge the horse onward. In truth, they’d been traveling for nearly a week, sleeping in the rough in the wee hours of the night and traveling as many hours as they could sit the horse. She’d spent every instant completely wrapped up in Jack. Her senses filled with the masculine scent of him, her body becoming accustomed to every shift of his muscles, every beat of his heart. He held her so gently, yet firmly enough to keep her secure. She would have been happy had the journey taken a month, despite the discomforts of travel.
The secret of his true identity still ate at her. He was a MacGregor almost certainly. And someone who commanded respect. Someone close to the laird of Glenlyon and his family. Perhaps Jack was family as well. Not that his family mattered so much to her. But she longed to know his true name.
She turned her face in to his chest, nuzzling against him. He murmured something to her. Gaelic words that she couldn’t understand, though she could guess, as his arms tightened about her again and his lips grazed her neck. She tilted her head, giving him better access. If she only had a few more hours with him, she had every intention of making the most of them. She raised her arm, reaching behind her to thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Keeping his lips imprisoned on her skin. His tongue darted out, tasting her, and she gasped and arched against him. He whispered again, more unintelligible words that still branded themselves on her heart.
When his teeth gently nipped at her neck, she twisted around, fusing her lips to his. The movements of the horse beneath them created a rocking motion that had her nearly dizzy with desire and craving his touch. She turned as far as she could, trying to get closer. Her body ached for something she didn’t know how to ask for. All she knew was that she wanted more. Wanted his hands on her skin. His lips on her body. Him. All of him.
He kissed down the column of her throat, his lips trailing over every inch of exposed skin he could reach until he finally stopped, wrenching himself from her with a great intake of breath.
“Enough, lass. I canna bear to touch so much of you and yet so little.”
“Then touch more,” she said, the heat beating through her giving her a confidence she never knew existed.
He rested his forehead against her temple and drew in another tremulous breath. “I would love nothing more. But doing so would be unforgivable.”
She tried to protest further, but he shook his head. “Nay, leannan.” He kissed her forehead, then drew her head back to his chest. “Rest awhile now. Just let me hold ye.”
She took a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart. She knew he was right. In a few short hours, he’d be leaving her at an inn and riding out of her life forever. Complicating things between them further would do neither of them any good. But she’d never hated a situation more.
She leaned in to him, soaking in his warmth. The man would be haunting her dreams for many years to come. And she’d relish every memory. She must have dozed off, for when she woke, Jack had pulled the horse to a stop. By the light of the moon she could see the small clearing and the little shack he’d first brought her to. They were back in England. A gnawing pit formed in her stomach. Elizabet had hoped Jack would change his mind about returning her to her home. Hoped he’d ride off with her. They could disappear. She’d rather spend her life with a highwayman she barely knew than the man her parents had chosen for her.
Granted, she didn’t know Fergus all that well, either. But her skin crawled whenever he looked at her. The thought of marriage to him… She shuddered. Her life was careening out of control. Then again, she’d never been in control of her own life. If her choices were her own, she’d choose to stay with Jack. As his scullery maid, if necessary. As long as she didn’t have to give herself to that snake of a man Fergus. She knew the futility of such a wish. She could hardly stay in this small cottage for the rest of her life, tending the home of a criminal who still hadn’t shown her his face.
What did it say if that life sounded better than the one she had waiting at home? She’d been gone nearly a month. Surely, her family presumed her dead. For the first time, she honestly wasn’t sure how her parents would react to seeing her again. Relieved perhaps, that their pawn in the marriage mart had been recovered intact? A small part of her missed them. The same part that wished they loved her. But her horror at the choices they persisted in making for her overshadowed that part.
Jack dismounted and reached up for her. She placed her hands on his shoulders so he could slowly lower her down. He kept his arms about her much longer than necessary once her feet reached the ground. She made no move to distance herself from him, quite happy where she was.
He brushed a few errant curls from her cheek that had been loosened by the wind, and she smiled at him.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, releasing her, a bit reluctantly, she thought.
Things inside the small cottage were unchanged from when she’d seen it last. Smaller than the cottage at Glenlyon. But clean and cozy for all that.
“I’ll need to leave in a bit. Only for a few hours.”
She spun around and looked at Jack in surprise. “What? Why?”
“I have…a meeting to attend.” He came closer, stopping a few inches from her. “I know I canna keep ye here once I’m gone. I could tie ye to the bed…” Her gaze flickered to it and quickly back to him, “but I dinna want to do that. So, I’ll ask ye to stay here until I return. For yer own safety, please listen this once. The woods are dangerous, especially at night.” He reached out to lightly run his hands down her arms. “I dinna wish to see any harm come to ye.”
He could ask her to deliver the moon in a satchel and as long as he asked like that, she’d do her damned best. She nodded. “I will stay put.”
He gave her a smile that sent her stomach charging about her belly and put a hitch in her breath. She didn’t think he realized that he still held her arms, or that he had pulled her closer. Happy to be there, she certainly had no plans to remind him.
Unfortunately, he realized it on his own and dropped his hands. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Keep it barred, aye? Ye shouldna have any problems, but ’tis best to be safe.”
She nodded, though the first twinge of unease flickered through her. Odd that she felt safer with an outlaw than on her own.
“Ye’ll be perfectly safe here,” he assured her again. “There is no one near, and the cottage is well hidden in the woods. But just in case, I’ll leave ye with this.” He handed her a pistol and quickly demonstrated how to use it.
“Bar the door after I leave, and if anyone tries to enter while I’m gone, ye shoot first and ask questions later.”
Elizabet nodded, handling the weapon carefully. She still had her knife in her stocking if she needed it.
He took her chin between his fingers and lifted her face back to his. “I have a surprise for ye.”
Her eyes widened, and he grinned at her before spinning to hurry out the door. He returned rolling a huge wooden tub and situated it near the fireplace. “I thought ye might like to bathe, since ye’ll be alone for the evening. And it was a long journey, after all.”
Elizabet clasped her hands together. “Oh, Jack! That would be heavenly. Where did you get this?”
“The village cooper. He crafted a similar tub for making ale. So I had him make one for me.”
“To bathe in?”
“Surprised that a heathen Scot might like a bath now and again?”
She shrugged. “Well, if you listen to the gossipmongers at court, yes. Then again, quite a few of them have gone far too long without bathing.”
“I pride myself in not being one of the many,” he said with a grin. “There’s a rain barrel outside this window,” he said, showing her. The barrel sat close enough she could scoop bucketfuls of water through the window by leaning out.
“I’ll help ye get the tub filled before I go. I need to stoke up the fire and fill the cauldron.”
They puttered about the cottage, Jack tending to the fire and emptying the cauldron of water into the tub once it was hot enough, then refilling it and setting it to boil again. By the time the second cauldron of water had heated, the first had cooled a bit. Several buckets of cold water from the rain barrel had the water the perfect temperature. Hot enough to turn her skin a delightful pink without scalding her.
He set a third cauldron on the fire. “So ye can heat yerself back up when the water cools,” he said with a wink.
Elizabet’s face flamed hot again, and she turned away. Jack chuckled. “Come, my lady. Bar the door behind me. Dinna open for anyone but me. Yer oath on it.”
“I promise, Jack. No one but you.”
His gaze intensified at that. Even she was surprised the words had left her lips. And somewhat confused as to what she meant by them. He came to her again, drew her close, gazed into her eyes. For probably the hundredth time she wished she could see his face without the mask, look into those eyes without the mystery shadowing them.
“Elizabet,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual. He opened his mouth to say something further but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.
Though not the searing kiss she’d hoped for, even that small touch sent a warmth rushing through her that made her close her eyes and shiver with delight.
He released her, and the loss of him immediately chilled her. She wrapped her arms about herself and followed him to the door.
“I’ll return shortly,” he said, giving her a long look before departing.
Her stomach tightened with anxiety when he stepped out into the night. She stopped on the threshold, and he took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, lingering much longer than courtesy demanded. Long enough that the lazy circles he drew against her skin with his thumb sent tingles running through her. Long enough she began to want his lips on parts other than her hand.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting.” The words left her mouth before she’d fully decided to say them.
Her cheeks burned, and the eyes behind his mask widened a bit, but he said nothing. Merely smiled that half smile that made her stomach tighten for entirely different reasons.
He stood waiting until she went back inside. True to her word, she barred the door behind him, smiling when she heard his footsteps moving away after she’d done so. He’d waited until he made sure she’d be locked safe inside.
Elizabet sighed deeply, trying to keep her worry from overwhelming her. She’d never been on her own before, except in her own home in her own room. Even then, the house had been full of servants. Her personal maid, Lucy, slept in a small room adjoining hers. All she’d ever had to do was call out and someone immediately came to her aid. Being on her own, in the middle of a dark forest, with brigands on the loose, would strike fear into even the stoutest heart.
Then again, one of those brigands was her own highwayman. Who’d left her with a pistol and a dagger to defend herself. He’d also left her with a glorious tub large enough she could slump down and actually soak herself in the hot water.
But she’d never be able to enjoy it worrying about Jack. The peril he courted in the dark of night. The carriages he might confront, facing danger, excitement, adventure.
She spun on her heel and marched straight past the steaming tub and over to the window with the rain barrel. A quick peek out the window revealed no one in sight, though she could still hear Jack speaking to someone in the darkness.
“No horses tonight. We can get in and out faster on foot.”
“Aye, but we’ll have to be quick about it. If we’re discovered we’ll have the devil of a time getting away.”
“We can lose them in the crag above the forest if we’re on foot. But if Fergus is with them, we need to risk it. It may be our only chance to discover evidence of his scheme with Dawsey.”
“Aye. We best be on our way.”
Elizabet didn’t wait to hear more. She’d promised, yes. But if Fergus and her father were involved, it affected her more than any of them. And while she trusted Jack with her life, she didn’t trust him to share information on their common enemy. It pained her that her father might be numbered among them.
She tucked the gun into the pocket of her dress, gathered her skirts in her hands, and climbed over the sill out into the night. She appreciated that Jack wanted to keep her safe. But she’d had her fill of other people telling her what she could and couldn’t do. Once he returned her to her parents, her life as she’d known it would end.
She’d stay out of the way. He’d never know she was there. Perhaps she could help him if he needed it. More importantly, she also needed to see if the stories about him were true. She had her own experience, of course. And tales abounded of the gallant Highland Highwayman who charmed the women so that they willingly gave up their jewelry and who left the men angry and poorer, but intact and unharmed.
But there were those like her father who insisted the reports were only tales. That the Highland Highwayman was nothing more than a typical criminal, as cruel and ruthless as they come. Elizabet didn’t believe that of him. But he might act differently when not in her presence.
She would never know unless she saw for herself.
…
John waited with his men under the cover of the tree line. The group of men they watched hadn’t made much of a move in the last quarter hour. They seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.
Philip nodded toward the group. “What do ye suppose they’re looking for?”
John shook his head. “I dinna ken, but it’s something they dinna want to draw attention to.”
The men were gathered near the ruins of an old manor house and had been digging industriously for the better part of two hours. Whatever they’d been hoping to find apparently hadn’t been there—snatches of angry whispers floated to where John and his men watched.
Will ran up to John. “Rider, sir, from the south.”
He nodded. “Good man. Back to yer post, and look sharp.” Will nodded and ran back to his assigned spot.
John gave his men the signal to be ready and watched to see who would arrive. Though he already had a sneaking suspicion.
Another quarter hour passed before Fergus Campbell charged up to the group and dismounted. John turned to Philip. “I sometimes hate that I’m always right.”
Philip snorted and turned back to watching. Fergus angrily waved his arms about, obviously not pleased at the lack of progress in finding whatever it was he thought was buried on these grounds.
A twig snapped behind them, and John whirled around, sword in hand. Philip flanked him, ready to fight. A small sigh emanated from the bushes and Elizabet’s blond head peeked out. John’s jaw nearly hit the ground.
“What are ye doing here?” he whisper-shouted.
Philip shook his head and turned back to keep watch. Not before John caught his smile, though.
John waved everyone back to their posts and looked about for Will. Within seconds, the young man came running into the clearing. He looked back and forth between Elizabet and John, his expression of shock so pronounced John would have laughed had the situation not been so serious.
He grabbed the lad by the collar and dragged him close. It was only when they were face-to-face that John noticed the lad’s swollen nose and blood-streaked face. “Are ye injured?”
Will stood up as straight as he could within John’s grasp. “No, sir.”
John’s eyes widened and he purposefully glanced at Will’s nose. Will sniffled. “A small accident, sir. Nothing more.”
Elizabet snorted, but they both ignored her. John decided to let Will’s nose go.
“How is it that someone made their way past ye?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I had to…” He glanced at Elizabet, his face turning bright red in the moonlight. “I had to…relieve myself. She must have snuck past me then. I was gone only a minute!”
“That’s all it takes, lad. Had she been armed and intent on doing harm, Philip and I wouldna be standing here.”
“Aye, sir. It willna happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
He released him to scamper back to his post. Then he turned to Elizabet and crooked a finger at her. She came to him almost as sheepishly, her body moving slowly, though she kept her defiant chin firmly raised.
“What in the devil are ye doing here?” he asked, when she was finally close enough to hear him.
“I overheard you talking about my father and spying on Fergus. What that man does, most certainly affects me. I have every right to be here and see for myself what kind of man I’m marrying. And…” Her gaze faltered a bit before steadying on his own. “I wanted to see what you were doing. Whether the darker stories I’d heard of you were true.”
That little statement hurt him far more than he’d anticipated. “Did ye really believe they were?”
“No,” she said, head held high. “But I thought it prudent to see for myself rather than rely on the word of others or even my own feelings on the matter. So I followed you here. That’s all.”
He sighed, unable to fault her logic, as he’d have done the same thing had their positions been reversed. Though that didn’t make him like it any better. He took her arm and pulled her in close, stopping short as his fingers slipped across a warm, sticky substance. He pulled his hand away and peered at the dark smear on his fingers, fear spiking through his chest.
“Yer bleeding? Is it yer arm? Are ye hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” she insisted, waving him off when he tried to get a closer look. “It’s not my blood.”
He stopped at that. “Whose is it, then?”
“His,” she said, pointing off in the direction Will had gone.
John’s eyebrows rose. “And how did his blood come to be on your body?”
She shrugged. “I startled him when I ran past. He grabbed for me, so I hit him.”
“Yer the one who damaged him?”
She made a fist and mimed punching someone. “Right in the nose. He let go fairly quickly after that, though not quickly enough, I suppose.” She plucked at the sleeve of her clothing with distaste.
The desire to berate her for hitting one of his men warred with a distinct need to laugh. Though in truth, if she got one over on the lad, he deserved it. John found her actions more impressive than anything else. Dangerous, ill-advised, and aggravating. But impressive. He decided to let the matter drop so he could focus on something far more important.
“I left ye behind for a reason. It’s dangerous out here. If yer’re discovered…”
“Nothing will happen to me. Besides, this is my land. I have every right to be here.”
John dropped her arm, stunned at that revelation. “What do ye mean, your land?”
She frowned slightly. “I’m not sure which part you’re not understanding. It’s my land. Or will be when I marry. The ruins there,” she said, pointing through the trees. “I haven’t been here since I was little, but I recognize them. It’s one of my grandmother’s estates. She left it to me as part of my dowry.”
He ignored the twinge of unease this news brought. If this property belonged to her, then she likely now realized the location of his hideout, as the cottage had once been the caretaker’s lodging on the property until large chunks of the estate had been sold. John’s grandfather had bought much of it, because one of their own estates bordered this property. She made no mention of it, though, and he certainly had no intention of bringing it up. She might not be aware of the cottage, and he didn’t feel the need to enlighten her.
But perhaps she could be of some assistance to them. He brought her over to stand near Philip so she could see where Fergus and his group were busily digging again while Fergus shouted insults.
“Do ye ken what they might be looking for?”
She watched them briefly and then shook her head. “There was a fire here some years ago. As far as I know, no one has been back since. The property was never used much even before then. Too far north for my grandparents, though my grandmother loved it. They preferred staying closer to London.”
Which meant the property had probably been a prime location for smuggling activities, even more so, if it had been essentially abandoned during the last several years.
“I suppose we’ve discovered why Fergus is so keen on marrying me.”
John’s eyebrows rose. “Aye, I suppose so. If this property comes with ye, as ye say, then as yer husband he’d have as much access to it as he’d like. As would yer father.”
Her gaze shot back to him. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated to tell her, but at this point keeping her in the dark seemed pointless. “I’ve been fairly certain that yer father and yon wee bastard have been working together.”
Her eyes widened. “Doing what?”
“Smuggling.”
She laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “You must be mad.” Despite her words, her forehead creased in a frown, and her gaze returned to the men busy digging up her grandmother’s property.
“It would explain why yer father would wed ye to such a man,” John said quietly. “These lands border Scotland and have river access to the sea. And being abandoned, little danger of prying eyes. Yer father has probably been using them for years, but with you at marriageable age…”
“He’d lose access if I were to marry, gain control of the property, and decide to do something with it,” she said, finishing his thought.
“Aye.”
“And if Fergus is working with my father…”
John nodded. “Fergus gains ownership through you, and yer father keeps his access through him.”
She shook her head, the sorrowful defeat in her eyes enough to tear his heart to shreds. “So he’d marry me to that monster in order to keep his criminal empire afloat.”
John couldn’t bring himself to agree, but Philip nodded. “It seems so, my lady.”
She looked back at John, her face expressionless but pale in the moonlight. “And you’re here to stop them?”
He nodded, and a faint smile touched her lips. “Seems a might judgmental of you.”
He nodded again. “Aye. Though it’s no’ the smuggling that is the problem so much as his methods. There are honorable free traders enough. Men who sell their contraband without murdering and deceit.”
“And my father does not.”
“Aye.”
“Well, anything on this property belongs to me, or will soon enough. And to my family in the meantime. He’s stealing and trespassing. I could put an end to this now. Go out there and confront him.”
John had to smile at that. He wanted to thrash the woman for disobeying him and putting herself in danger, but he had to admire her spirit.
“That’s probably not the wisest course of action.”
“And why not? He’d be caught in the act,” she said, jerking her head to where Fergus directed the men loading the boxes they’d finally unearthed onto wagons. “He could be held accountable for his crimes, and we’d both be rid of him.”
“Because, lass, while we have several witnesses, we dinna have a lick of evidence.”
“The word of the daughter of the Earl of Dawsey should be sufficient,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height and putting on that air of entitled nobility that he’d seen often enough in other peers of her station. Though never from her.
“Not when that word is against the Earl of Dawsey himself.”
She stepped back as if he’d struck her, not in fear, or even in pain or anger. Her eyes swam with the realization of the truth of his words.
“They would paint ye as a discontented girl telling tales in the hopes of avoiding a marriage to the man her father has chosen. And yer father is, perhaps, more guilty than Campbell. I canna turn over the one without the other.”
“But my mother is not guilty. I am not guilty. I am not condoning what my father has done, but he is still my father. And turning him in would put my mother and me on the streets. We’d be ruined.”
“My lady…” he said, his resolve for revenge wavering for the first time. He wanted the men responsible for so much death and destruction, for his brother’s life, to pay for their crimes. Needed it. The constant, gnawing fire in his gut would never go away until his brother’s death was avenged. Until the men responsible were brought to justice.
But what she said was true. If Dawsey fell, so did his family. Still… “What choice do I have?”
“You have a great many choices,” she spit out, her body trembling in her anger. “Choices that I, as a mere girl, as you so helpfully pointed out, do not have. There are other ways to ensure my father never harms anyone again. Ways to possibly curtail his activities without forfeiting his standing. Or his life. There are other ways, surely. But you’re so blind with your self-styled heroism you refuse to see them.”
He opened his mouth to respond but before he could, Will came crashing back into the clearing. “Soldiers, sir! Coming quick, from the south!”
John’s men scattered, already well-trained at what to do in just such a situation. Beyond the tree line, Fergus’s men did the same, though with much less precision and a great deal more noise and panic. With any luck, the soldiers would focus on those fools while John and his men made it away.
John reached out for Elizabet’s arm but she yanked it away. “I’m in no danger from them. In fact, I seem to be the only one within a two-mile radius who isn’t a criminal.”
“My lady, ye’re a lone woman, dressed in rags, freely standing in the midst of a band of thieves who are spying on another band of thieves. I dinna believe the soldiers will pause long enough to listen to yer explanations.”
She frowned, but he knew she couldn’t argue with that.
“Come, we must get ye back to the cottage.” He reached out to take her arm again, but she evaded him a second time.
“Elizabet,” he said, his patience at an end.
She glanced up at him in surprise, but she still took another step away.
“I know the way back.” She sprinted away before he could say another word.
He started to go after her, but Philip grabbed his arm. “We canna lead them back to the cottage! We must follow the plan and meet up at our rendezvous point.”
He was right, damn him. Leading them back to the cottage would not only lead them straight to Elizabet, but it would effectively remove the cottage as a safe place to stage their attacks and rest and recuperate when needed. He couldn’t return there with soldiers in the area.
But he couldn’t leave her to them, either.
“She’ll be fine,” Philip insisted. “The soldiers are following Campbell’s men. They dinna even ken she’s here.”
No sooner had Philip finished speaking than several soldiers peeled away from the main group and began riding off in the direction of the cottage. And Elizabet.
The king’s men should be honorable, above reproach. And if they were to encounter a lady in full finery in the company of her own guard or at least a maid or two, they would most likely be on their best behavior. A bedraggled lass in a torn and bloody chemise alone in a cottage in the woods? No. He’d not leave her to their mercy.
“I have to go, Philip. I’ll not let them see me, but I canna leave her to them.”
Philip looked fair to bursting with the desire to argue, but he didn’t waste any more time. He simply nodded. “Be safe, Cousin.”
“Aye, and you.”
And with that, John turned and ran. He could only hope being on foot and knowing the territory would be in his favor while the soldiers bumbled through the dark on their horses. He ran faster. Every footfall pounding through the forest thundered in time with his heart.
He had to reach her before the soldiers did.