Ann Lethbridge (13 page)

‘You picked the losing side.’

‘Aye, like many Highlanders, we joined forces with the Bonnie Prince. After that, a
Sassesnach
lord took our lands. My great-grandfather fled to France, but a cousin remained close by Dunross and warded his son, my grandfather. The Gilvrys spent all their money and time trying to regain the land and the keep, until they were practically beggars.’

‘But you did get it back?’

‘Aye. My oldest brother finally married the English lord’s daughter. He seems happy about it, too.’

‘To your surprise?’

‘Aye, well, we all thought he’d tricked her into marrying him so he could get our lands back. It turned out they’d cared for each other for years. They just couldna’ see how to make it work, the two families hating each other as they did.’

‘It sounds romantic,’ she whispered with a sigh. Perhaps she was wishing Murray was here instead of him. And although her sweet form was pressed against him so sweetly and his body was raging with lust, he held himself rigid. Because if he didn’t he might just be tempted to kiss her again. And he was supposed to be keeping her safe.

He hadn’t done a particularly good job of it so far, but tonight he would not let her down no matter how high those damned cliffs.

And she trusted him to do just that. Protect her from these men and whoever was behind them. The thought split something open inside him and a great surge of tenderness bubbled up through the crack. She made him want to give her the moon and to protect her for ever and always.

He touched his lips to her hair, a gesture of comfort, nothing more, and she lifted her face and pressed her lips to his.

A small breathy touch. A searing flare to the dry tinder of his will. He turned on his side and wooed her lips. She tasted of hope and despair and trust and woman. And he didn’t care that she smelled faintly of fish—they both did. She also smelled of heather and roses.

He teased her lips to hear her sigh. He tasted the dark depths of her mouth and her body turned inwards, her small perfect breast pressing against his chest. It was worth the pain just to feel her against him. He was burning. Hard as the rock beneath him.

It was bliss. It was hell. She shifted. Pain shot through his chest. He drew in a sharp breath and she stilled.

‘Oh. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.’

Sorry? Dazed, he held her a little away from him. If they continued down this path she would be very sorry indeed. She was engaged to another man. A man who could give her everything she needed most.

Never had he wanted a woman the way he wanted this one. And here she was, ready and willing. If it was any other woman, he wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought. But this was Jenna. And he could not take the chance that what they might do at the edge of fear would ruin her life. She was innocent. He was not.

He drew back. ‘No more, understand.’

‘What if tomorrow we are dead?’ She snuggled closer, her body half on his, her hands sliding around his nape.

His heart thundered in his chest. His blood pulsed in his veins. A celebration of the gift he was offered. Just one more kiss. Then he’d stop. But he wouldn’t. If he kissed her again, he’d lose what little control he had left.

It was his fault she was in danger. And soon they had a cliff to climb. The cold inside him expanded until he wanted to shudder like a cowering dog. The thought of those cliffs. The height of them. His mouth dried. His throat closed. His limbs turned to water just thinking about them. But he could not let her see his cowardice. ‘In a few hours we will be back at Carrick Castle and this will all seem like a dream.’

It was with a feeling of pride that he threw back the cloak and stood up, with a groan at the pain across his ribs. A feeling of having fought a devil within him and won. Her little sound of protest struck low in his gut, but he ignored it. ‘It’s time. Get ready.’ His voice sounded harsh and that was just as well, because she moved to obey.

He heard the rustle of her skirts as he walked softly to the mouth of the cave and let his eyes adjust to the light from the stars twinkling in between patches of cloud. Down on the beach, Pip was slumped beside the fire. Asleep. Poor wee lad. He’d had a hard day. Niall smiled a grim smile. He’d help him sleep a little longer.

Soundlessly, he climbed carefully across the rocks to the beach. Pip didn’t stir as he approached the fire. He picked up a piece of driftwood and hit the sleeping lad above the ear. He collapsed with a gentle sigh. Tit for tat.

Niall searched through his clothes, took the pistol and his knife, then checked his pockets and found powder and balls in a waterproof package within. The pistol would come in handy when they made it to the top of the cliff.

When. Now there was positive thinking.

He glanced down and saw something much more valuable than a pistol: a long length of rope. He coiled it and slung it over his shoulder. By the time he got back to the cave, Jenna was standing at the entrance, waiting. Her skirts tucked up above her sensible boots revealed the white gleam of stockings.

He tied one end of his rope around his waist and the other around hers. It was how Ian had taken him up the cliffs the very first time. The day he had discovered he was terrified of heights. His brother thought to help him get over his fear. It hadn’t worked. Better not to think of that now.

The first part of the climb went relatively easily. The rocks were more like stepping stones and Jenna kept pace. And just as the dark had helped him the last time he’d climbed a cliff, it helped him now. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, looking for the next handhold, the next place to step. Until they came to the crevice. This was the part he’d been dreading most. And now, up close, with the sky directly above, he could see it leaned outwards. Could it get any worse?

Keeping himself flat against the cliff wall, he risked a glance down to the beach to the glow of the fire where he’d left Pip. No movement. God, it was such a long way down. His head spun. His knees weakened. He grabbed at the rock face and pressed his forehead to cold granite.

He’d reached his limit.

The point at which he could neither go up or go down. No. He could go down. He could do that. As long as he went slowly and didn’t look.

‘Is something wrong?’ Jenna whispered from behind him. ‘Is it your ribs?’

‘Aye.’ He certainly wasn’t going to tell her he was afraid to move.

Bile rose in his throat. And anger. At his inability to conquer his fear. At his cowardice.

He didn’t understand it. It was irrational.

He swallowed. This wasn’t about him. It was about getting Jenna to safety. Back in her betrothed’s arms. Oh, now there was an incentive to spur him on. He took a deep breath. He didn’t have a choice. He had to do this. Once more he leaned back to look up the crevice. It was about fifteen feet, from here to the ledge. Nothing, Logan would call it. ‘Stay here. When I tug on the rope be prepared for me to lift you.’

‘Wh-where are you going?’

‘Up,’ he said. ‘Just do it, Jenna. Please.’

He didn’t wait for her answer, just went to the spot where the rock face split apart. He’d seen his brothers do this countless times, put their back to one side of a crevice and shimmy upwards using hands and feet. He took a deep breath, pressed his back to the rough rock and one hand flat behind him, one foot high against the opposite wall and pushed up. Just like walking up a wall, Logan had crowed the first time he did it. And it wasn’t that hard at the start, where the sides were close. Right foot, left hand, push. Left foot, right hand, push. But the distance was widening, and he was so high above the beach. He panted for breath, sweating so hard the hand supporting him slid on the rock, his stomach falling away in dizzying spirals.

It was happening again. He couldn’t do it.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes to stop the world spinning. Trembles shook his body. He could not do this. It was not fair that he should have to do this. Frozen, his arms and legs rigid, he felt like a block of ice.

Breathe. His grandfather’s voice came back to him, just the same as when the old man had come to help him down that first time. Breathe? He could scarcely take a breath at all. Besides, breathing hurt because Fred had kicked him.

Take it one step at a time, the voice said.

All right for you to say. You are not the one forty feet up.

He had to do this. For Jenna’s sake. He took one shaky breath. And another. Slowly his stomach settled in one place. He opened his eyes and glanced up quickly. He could see the top of the crevice. The edge of the ledge. All he had to do was get there and have solid ground beneath him. One step at a time. Don’t think about anything else.

He moved one hand and one foot, just an inch or two and pushed. And then again. Three more times and he was up on the ledge, his body and cheek pressed hard against the blessedly flat rock and his ribs jabbing at him. A most welcome pain.

Now he had to pull Jenna up. Slowly he got to his feet and pressed his back against the rock wall. He squeezed his eyes closed and opened them, then looked down.

He could see her, a darker shadow against the rocks. He fixed the rope over his shoulder. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’

He braced his feet apart and began to pull her up. The brave lass used her hands and feet on the rock face, making it easier to ignore the pain in his chest. And finally he had her up beside him. He leaned against the rock, panting.

‘That was interesting,’ she said, her voice a few inches from his face.

Anger filled him. Anger at how relaxed she sounded, at how easily she’d accomplished something that had just about made him insane. So angry he climbed the last few feet without thinking. He flung himself over the cliff edge to land on his knees. He rolled clear, leaped to his feet, walking backwards, holding the rope taut until she followed him over and was clear of the edge.

‘We did it,’ she cried.

‘Hush. Do you want Pip to hear us?’ He bent over, hands on his knees, waiting for his gut to stop churning and his teeth not to chatter.

Finally, he took a deep breath and straightened. ‘Yes, we did it,’ he whispered. ‘But we have a long way to go before we are safe.’ He pulled her towards him, seeing her shape as a dark shadow against the starlit sky, feeling her warmth when she stood in front of him, the gleam of bare slender legs beneath her tucked-up skirts. His hands shaking badly, he fumbled with the knots to get them untied.

‘Can I help?’

He stiffened at the sympathy in her voice. ‘I can manage.’ He certainly wasn’t going to tell her he wanted nothing more than to lay flat on the ground in utter relief.

‘It was amazing the way you climbed up there,’ she said.

Sarcasm. It had to be. She knew he didn’t like heights and no doubt she’d seen his panic. His fear. Now she’d seen his cowardice in action. At last the knot came undone. He stepped clear. ‘Hurry and straighten yourself,’ he said brusquely. ‘I hit our friend Pip pretty hard, but he’s no doubt had worse and who knows how soon he’ll awake. We need to be as far from here as possible before the sun comes up and the others return.’

‘Perhaps they will think we swam,’ she said, shaking out her skirts.

He forced himself to turn away. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Perhaps,’ she mimicked. ‘Can’t you at least be happy we’ve escaped?’

‘I’ll celebrate when I am sure we have.’ He hated that he sounded so grim in the face of her joy, but until his stomach returned to its normal place and his head stopped spinning, he was not going to be in the mood for cheerful conversation. And he certainly didn’t want her sympathy.

Chapter Ten

P
oor Niall. Clearly, he hadn’t yet recovered from the climb. She didn’t dare offer comfort in case he took offence. She’d also been terrified, climbing up that cliff in the dark. Only the knowledge he was ahead of her, holding the rope, had given her the courage to follow. For a while, at the bottom of the fissure, she’d been sure she wasn’t going to make it. Thank goodness he knew what he was doing. She breathed a sigh of relief. With that awful climb behind them, all they had to do was get back to Carrick.

She wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back to the castle. There was sure to be an uproar. Her cousin would be furious when he learned what had happened and she very much feared he would blame Niall. Well, he needn’t worry she would let him shoulder the blame or suffer the consequences.

Since there was nothing to be done about it at this moment, she strode along beside him, or at least he strode and she had to keep breaking into a run to keep up. She was just about to ask him to slow down when she saw a soft red glow up ahead. Niall must have seen it, too, because he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the ground.

Her heart sank. ‘They left a guard up here, too?’

Niall hissed at her to hush.

‘We could just go around,’ she whispered.

Niall hushed her again and she knelt on the rough grass, listening to her heart beat hard in her ears.

Niall turned to her. ‘Whoever it is has a horse. I can hear it.’

She listened. She could hear it, too. The odd jingle and a whooffly sound horses made at night.

‘So?’ she replied.

‘So a horse will get us back to Carrick faster than we can walk.’

‘Will he sell it to us?’

‘I don’t have any money.’

‘Nor me.’

‘We will have to steal it.’ He grabbed her shoulders. ‘Stay close. We’ll work our way around the fire and try to walk it away without them noticing.’

‘And if they do notice?’

‘I have a pistol.’

A pistol was better than money in some circumstances.

Slowly they circled around the fire, towards the direction of the horse. As they drew closer, the flames revealed a wagon closed in by an arch of canvas and its owner relaxed against one wheel.

Oh, blast. The horse was still in the traces, munching on the contents of a nosebag. Niall must have noticed, too, because he stopped.

The owner of the wagon seemed to be looking straight at them. Which was impossible, because they were in the shadows on the opposite side of the fire. There was something familiar about the man.

The gypsy from the market. She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp of shock.

She heard the click of Niall cocking the pistol and winced. They were going to have to steal the horse at gunpoint.

‘Come to the fire,’ a dark voice said. ‘I have been expecting you.’

‘We want only your horse,’ Niall said, standing up. ‘You will be compensated. Later.’

Surprised, Jenna stood up beside him.

‘It’s me or them,’ the Gypsy said, still casually relaxed against the wheel of his wagon.

‘We just want the horse,’ Niall said tersely. ‘And we will be on our way.’

‘And you will be dead by the end of the day.’

Niall stiffened.

‘I knew you would never accept my help,’ he continued. ‘Not at first, at least.’

‘What?’ Jenna said.

‘Lady Jenna. Will you have more sense than your swain and join me by the fire?’

Niall growled low in his throat. A warning that she should not move.

She remained at his side. ‘Are you part of this?’ she asked. ‘Part of this abduction?’

‘No.’

‘Then how did you know where to find us?’ Niall said, holding her arm as if he feared she would step into a trap.

The gypsy shrugged. ‘I dreamed it.’ He flashed a smile, a white gleam in the darkness. A smile that suddenly seemed familiar. The image of tents and the fires and women weaving baskets and men making pots after they finished working in the fields filled her mind. Her father had gone there once to see their leader and taken her with him.

Niall snorted.

‘I remember you now,’ Jenna said. ‘Your band camps near Braemuir in the summer.’

‘Used to camp,’ he said. ‘Things have changed.’

‘Niall, if Mr Hughes trusts this man enough to send him with a letter, then so should we.’

‘What do you fear,
chavvi
?’

Niall nodded, but kept her behind him as he stepped into the circle of dim light cast by the fire, still pointing his pistol.

The gypsy gestured at it. ‘The powder is wet.’

To Jenna’s surprise, Niall gave a short laugh. ‘I know it. But how did you?’

The gypsy touched the side of his nose. ‘I smell.’

Niall let go of her and shook his head. ‘Will you lend us your horse?’

‘No,
chavvi
, but I will carry you where you need to go. We must hurry, my friend, if you do not wish to be caught again.’

Jenna looked up at Niall.

The gypsy leaped to his feet and poured water on the fire. ‘Into the wagon with you, where you will be safe. I travel the lanes and no one takes notice, except to spit and cross themselves. We will be gone from here before they discover your absence.’

‘Thank you,’ Jenna said.

Niall gazed down at his pistol and back at the gypsy. ‘Betray us, gypsy, and you will pay with your life.’

The gypsy grinned. ‘My name is Sean.’

Niall put his pistol in his waistband and stuck out a hand. ‘Niall Gilvry. And this is—’

‘The Lady Jenna.’ He bowed. ‘Now into the cart with you.’

Niall helped Jenna up onto the cart’s bed and she crawled through a small gap between the boxes and sacks that filled the cart to the top of its canvas roof. She found herself in a roomy space, with something soft beneath her knees. A moment later the space was lit by a lantern, passed to her by Niall.

‘He says there’s a hook there somewhere,’ Niall muttered, crawling in beside her. He looked around. ‘Well, this is luxury.’

And it was. A mattress took up the width of the floor, one end of it littered with embroidered pillows. There was a small carved chest at the head and behind it more baskets and crates.

The cart began to move.

‘You like my bedroom?’ Sean asked from the other side of the canvass.

‘It’s wonderful,’ Jenna said. ‘I thought gypsies lived in tents.’

‘Not when I’m on the road and alone. A bender takes time to put up, so I make my tent in the cart. Be quiet, now. In case someone comes along.’

Silence reigned. Only the sound of hooves and creaking wood broke the silence.

‘As I thought.’ Sean’s sharp whisper came through the canvas. ‘Dowse the light and keep quiet. Someone is coming.’

The man seemed to have some sort of sixth sense. Niall blew out the lamp and felt Jenna tremble as she grabbed at his arm. ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered and reached beneath the pillows for the pistol.

The wagon slowed.

‘Stay quiet,’ Sean whispered again. ‘Say nothing.’

Scarcely daring to breathe, Niall listened to the sound of approaching hooves. Several horses by the sound of jangling bridles.

Jenna gripped his hand tightly. He gave her a comforting squeeze.

‘Where are you going, tinker?’ a clipped English voice asked. A familiar voice.

Lieutenant Dunstan? Well, that was a surprise. Should they declare their presence? Have him escort them home. Or trust the gypsy and stay hidden.
Bide your time. Learn the lie of the land.
He’d been too trusting already this night.

‘Along this road,’ Sean said. ‘To the next village.’

‘Have you seen anyone?’

‘Only a selkie and a hobgoblin or two.’

‘Don’t play games, gypsy. If I search that wagon of yours, I am sure to find something to give me cause to take you to gaol.’

‘I have nothing to hide,’ Sean said. ‘What are you seeking?’

‘A band of cut-throats who’ve been seen in these parts.’

No mention of him and Jenna? Had he not received news of their abduction? It seemed very odd. But not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps with this man’s help, he could have Jenna returned with no one the wiser. Her reputation would certainly be ruined if this young aristocrat found them snuggled up in the blankets together.

‘I’ve seen no man on this road tonight apart from yourself, your honour.’

The absolute truth. The gypsy hadn’t seen him on this road. Only on the cliffs. Niall gave a little shake of his head at the impudence.

‘Sergeant, look in the back of the wagon,’ Dunstan said.

He felt Jenna take a deep breath as if to call out. ‘Wait,’ he whispered close to her ear. And was glad when she did as he asked.

‘Be my guest,’ Sean said calmly and jumped down.

They heard the canvas pulled back and someone poking around. A clatter and a curse. A clang. ‘Ouch.’

‘Mind that pot,’ Sean said. ‘Look what you have done. It is dented. You will pay for the damage.’

‘Look what
I’ve
done,’ a gruff voice said in disgust. ‘That pot near brained me.’

‘Well, Sergeant?’ Dunstan asked.

‘There’s naught back here but rubbish,’ the disgruntled sergeant said. ‘And I’ve a lump on me head as big as an egg.’

‘I’ve some unguent for that,’ Sean said. ‘Let me sell you a jar. Made by my grandmother. I’ll let you have it cheap.’ More sounds of things being moved around.

‘Get away,’ the sergeant said. ‘I want none of your heathen potions. Nothing back here, sir.’

The wagon tilted at the front where Sean must have climbed up on the box.

‘There are three men,’ Dunstan said. ‘Rough-looking English sailors. Send word if you see them and there will be silver crossing your palm, gypsy.’

‘Thank you, your honour. Very generous of you.’

The voice of the sergeant called his men to order and the troop passed them at a trot. Sean set the wagon in motion and the sounds were soon out of earshot.

Niall let go a sigh of relief.

‘We must be close to the castle,’ Jenna said.

‘How far do we have to go, Sean?’ Niall asked in a low murmur when he was sure they must be out of earshot of the soldiers.

‘Far enough,’ the quiet voice came back. ‘I expect you are hungry.’

Niall’s stomach growled agreement.

‘Starving,’ Jenna agreed.

The wagon stopped and once more they felt him get down from his perch. There was the sound of things being moved and then a lantern appeared, followed by Sean’s face. ‘We are safe enough now.’ He handed Niall a spill. ‘You can relight the lantern.’

Niall did so. Sean handed him a small bundle. ‘You will find food and drink in here. Not much, but it’s the best I can do. Then you will sleep.’

‘What about you?’ Niall asked. ‘Do you not need sleep?’

‘I slept all day,’ Sean said. ‘Waiting for you.’ He backed out.

‘How did he know?’ Jenna whispered.

‘He dreamed it,’ Niall said and grinned.

Oh, how she loved it when he smiled. He looked boyish and wicked. What would she have done if he had not been with her when those men had taken her captive? She shuddered inwardly at the thought.

Niall shook his head in disgust. His beard was rough and dark, his eyes shadowed by blue circles and there were smudges of dirt on his cheek and forehead. He was lovely.

‘Don’t,’ he said softly.

She frowned a question.

‘Don’t look at me that way. It’s my fault we are in this fix. What’s in that bundle?’

She opened it up to reveal hunks of bread, neatly cut wedges of cheese and a clay flagon. ‘It seems that our rescuer has thought of everything.’

Niall grunted as if the thought did not please him. She portioned out the bread and cheese between them and they munched hungrily. She wished she could say something to make him feel better about what had happened, about them being caught unawares by their abductors, but she had the feeling that speaking of it would only darken his mood. And in the meantime, it seemed they would get back to Carrick Castle without much harm being done.

‘Why didn’t we reveal ourselves to the lieutenant?’ she asked.

‘He didn’t seem aware of our absence. Someone at the castle must have decided to keep it a secret. It seems to me it would be better for all concerned if no one knew you’d been missing for two nights.’

Mr Murray wouldn’t like it, he meant. He was right.

Mr Gilvry picked up the flask and drew the cork. He swallowed some of the liquid and made a face and held it out to her. ‘Mead.’

She took a sip. It was sweet and deliciously cold. ‘I like it.’ She drank her fill and handed it back.

He drained what was left. ‘Not too bad when you get used to it,’ he admitted. He pulled out his pistol, inspected it, then set about the task of reloading.

She watched him for a moment or two.

‘You don’t think we should trust him,’ she whispered, jerking her thumb towards the front of the wagon.

‘I don’t think we should trust anyone right at this moment.’

‘Who do you think is behind all of this?’

He stopped polishing the barrel of the pistol and looked at her. ‘I wish I knew. If I did I would sort him out.’

‘Fred said something about the governor when we were in Mrs Tearny’s house—I didn’t know what he meant then. He must have meant the man he is working for.’

‘Someone he’s afraid of?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. I think you are right. What about McBane? A man prepared to cheat might be prepared to take it further.’

‘He might.’ He frowned. ‘But they accosted you on the road long before McBane came on the scene. Carrick did mention in passing that he had turned down an offer from one suitor who hadn’t taken it well. I can’t recall the name of the man. Do you?’

Shock, then anger, rippled through her. ‘He said nothing about another offer.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘How dare he refuse a proposal without consulting me?’

Niall raised a brow. ‘I expect he thought it for the best.’

‘Everyone seems to think they know what is best for me. I wish they would ask my opinion.’

He dropped his gaze to the pistol and carefully poured powder in the pan.

What? Did he think she had no brain? Carrick certainly did. ‘I would have listened to his opinion, you know.’