The Master Of Strathburn (7 page)

The man seemed to notice her struggle also. He grasped her gently behind the shoulders and helped to ease her into a sitting position. When she was upright, he dropped his hands but didn’t move away.

‘You shot me.’ Her voice emerged as a ragged whisper. As Jessie’s gaze skittered over the stranger again, she noticed he wore a plain brown coat and tight-fitting buckskin breeches. A musket hung from his shoulder. Perhaps he
was
a hunter.
Or a poacher
…

The man drew in a deep breath and wiped a hand down his face, looking more than a little contrite. ‘Aye,’ he admitted, meeting her gaze. ‘I’m so incredibly sorry. My companion and I, we were deer stalking. The deer I was after was in the copse with you, and in this mist … Well, you were neatly camouflaged I’m afraid.’ His wide mouth suddenly tilted into a rueful half smile. ‘I’m obviously not as good a marksman as I used to be if I’m missing deer and shooting young ladies instead.’

Even though he’d shot her and she had no real reason to trust this man or his redheaded companion, Jessie felt that she could at least take him at his word about what had occurred. For one thing, his explanation seemed to make sense. She remembered the deer. And she’d deliberately worn colours that would hide her amongst the autumn-hued landscape. He probably wouldn’t have noticed her in amongst the deer grass and the crimson leaves of the rowan tree.

But what if her fragile trust was misplaced? He may have shot her by accident, but ownership of firearms was illegal for most Highlanders. So what on earth was this man doing up here, stalking deer on Lord Strathburn’s lands in the first place? Who was he?

Despite his assurance that she would be all right, unease fluttered wildly in her belly. She was all alone and injured. Vulnerable in the extreme. She tried to reassure herself that not everyone was like Simon—a cold, lascivious predator. Nevertheless, common sense dictated she should at the very least be wary of this man and his hunting companion.

She glanced at the hunter’s face again. He was kneeling very close to her, his deep blue eyes steadily watching her, obviously gauging her reaction to what he’d just told her. A strange frisson passed over her skin like a shiver of wind passing through the deer grass as it suddenly occurred to her that he was handsome despite his rough appearance. His dark brown, almost black hair was tied back off his face revealing a strong angular jaw line shadowed with the beginnings of a dark beard. Winged eyebrows, chiselled lips … she couldn’t have said why, but she suddenly had the odd sensation that he seemed vaguely familiar.

The stranger spoke again, his pleasantly deep voice interrupting her perusal. ‘Can you tell me your name, lass?’

She considered his question and decided there was no reason not to share the information. She swallowed. Her throat was still so parched and tight she could barely speak. ‘Jessie … Jessie Munroe.’

The man noticed her need for a drink as well. He immediately produced the flask the redheaded man had given to him. ‘Just water,’ he said as if to reassure her again that he meant her no harm.

Jessie took it with shaking hands and sipped at the contents gratefully. Cold water slipped down her throat, easing the dryness. ‘Thank you,’ she said, handing the flask back.

The blue-eyed man took a swig for himself and then poured a little water over his blood-streaked fingers. Oh, dear Lord, it was her blood. Jessie swallowed down a sudden wave of nausea.

The man recapped the flask and Jessie noticed that now the blood was gone, he had large, strong looking hands; despite the fact his knuckles were scarred, his fingers were long, almost elegant with well-shaped nails. They were clearly not the hands of a crofter or brigand cattle reiver. More the hands of a gentleman, perhaps a soldier. Although the man’s plain clothes and stubbled jaw belied the station of gentleman … he was a conundrum to say the least.

It occurred to Jessie that she should ask the stranger for his name, but just as she began to clear her throat to ask her question, the man spoke again.

‘Well, Jessie—you don’t mind if I call you by your first name do you?—we’re going to have to move to somewhere more sheltered. Night will be here soon and it looks like rain.’ At that very moment, an ominous grumble of thunder sounded in the distance and a sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of gold and scarlet leaves down onto them.

The blue-eyed man called out to his redheaded companion, who had been standing back at the edge of the copse all this time, watching them. ‘Tobias, fetch the horses will you?’

‘Aye, milord,’ replied Tobias in a distinct Scottish burr before he disappeared into the gathering mist and cloud.

The huntsman turned his attention back to her. ‘There’s an old, abandoned hunting lodge not far from here that we can use.’

Not only was this man stalking on Lord Strathburn’s hunting grounds but he also seemed to think nothing of using the earl’s hunting lodge. It was a trespassing offence to say the least. Jessie suddenly wondered how the stranger knew of its existence.

Her surprise at the comment about the lodge must have shown on her face as he asked, ‘Do you know of it?’

She nodded. ‘It’s owned by the Earl o’ Strathburn. These are his lands.’

The huntsman did not seem at all rattled by her revelation. ‘Well, there’s no possibility of us taking you anywhere else at present given the weather that’s setting in,’ he said with a wry smile, glancing toward the lowering clouds. ‘And I’m sure that like me, you’d prefer not to spend the night battling the elements.’

He sought and held her gaze directly again. ‘But before we move, Jessie, I’d like to take a closer look at your injured arm. You’ve lost a little blood and the wound may need bandaging.’ His eyes now held a light of earnest concern. ‘I assure you, I have nothing but honourable intentions.’

‘Aye, all right,’ she said, steeling herself for his ministrations. She supposed that if his intentions
were
dishonourable, she would already know—if he meant to have her, now would be the perfect opportunity. Also, if he really intended her more physical harm, why would he bother to attend to her arm?

The man laid aside his musket, then, still on his haunches, leaned toward her. He was very close. She watched his face because she couldn’t bear to look down at her injury. His winged dark brows descended into a slight frown as he gently separated the torn edges of her sleeve to check the wound underneath. At these close quarters, she couldn’t help but notice other things about him as well. The skin at his throat and underneath the stubble was tanned, like he’d spent a considerable amount of time in the sun. She noted a long, straight nose and high cheekbones. Definitely handsome, she decided. An elegant ruffian.

He was a dark, handsome stranger that had shot her and was now her rescuer. If she hadn’t been in so much pain she might have smiled at the irony of the situation.

‘Jessie lass,’ he said gently when he’d finished his inspection,’ I’m going to have to cut your shift to make a bandage to help stop the bleeding. Then I’ll have to cut away your sleeve so I can bind the wound properly. Would that be all right?’ he asked.

She nodded faintly. She really had no other choice.

The huntsman pulled a dirk from his belt then carefully lifted her woollen skirt and cambric petticoats to expose her shift. Using the dirk, he swiftly tore off a decent sized strip of linen. Part of her knew she should have minded, but at that moment, she was too weary and in too much pain to care overmuch if he saw her lower legs or ruined her clothes.

Although he was gentle, she couldn’t help but gasp when he cut away her sleeve. There was quite a lot of blood, more than she had thought there would be. She closed her eyes, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself not to faint as the man proceeded to wrap a firm bandage around her arm. The slightest touch or movement triggered sharp flashes of white-hot pain. By the time the bandage was securely fastened, Jessie was shivering and a sheen of cold perspiration had broken out all over her skin.

The man returned his dirk back to his belt. ‘You are a brave lass, Jessie Munroe,’ he said, his eyes returning to hers. She thought there might even be a hint of admiration in the deep blue depths.

To her annoyance, she felt her cheeks grow hot beneath his close scrutiny. But before she could gather her addled thoughts and respond, the huntsman continued, the warm baritone of his voice as soft as a caress. ‘Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jessie, but you also have a rather large splinter at your temple that should probably be removed.’

His gaze moved to her forehead as he reached slowly forward and lifted her hair away from the left side of her face. For the first time Jessie noticed her brow was stinging. She raised her right hand and gently probed the splinter, wincing slightly. Her temple was sticky with blood.

The huntsman gently tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s at your hairline and the wound is quite superficial so it shouldn’t leave any noticeable scar to mar your lovely face.’

He thinks I am attractive? Surely he’s jesting.

Even though she was still shivering, Jessie felt her cheeks begin to positively burn at his remark. ‘I suspect you must be a wee bit blind,’ she said shakily, attempting a smile. ‘But nevertheless, I’m ready. Go ahead an’ do yer worst.’ When she closed her eyes to submit to his ministrations, she thought she heard the stranger trying to suppress a chuckle.

Once the splinter was removed, the man stood up. He was tall, Jessie noted, very tall. Broad shouldered and lean with long, muscular legs. Even if she’d been able, she doubted she could outrun him if she needed to.

‘Jessie, I’m just going to leave you here for a moment to help Tobias with the horses.’ He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her. Jessie instantly noticed the smell of damp wool combined with the astringency of pine needles—and another note—the slightly musky scent of the man himself. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, she rather thought she liked it.

‘I won’t be long,’ he added, bending to retrieve his musket. And then he was gone.

The mist was growing thicker in the copse. The chill dampness seemed to seep into Jessie’s very bones. Shivering, she drew the huntsman’s coat more closely around herself, trying to absorb his residual warmth. She closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. It was like the fog had penetrated her mind as well.

As she hovered on the edge of consciousness, she was suddenly plagued by doubts again. She hated that she was now reliant on this handsome stranger. It was unsettling to be at such a disadvantage. It struck her again that she really knew nothing about this man, not even his name. Although the redhaired lad, Tobias, had called him
my lord
, an obvious mark of respect. But whether the huntsman was a nameless lord or a nameless poacher it really didn’t matter given her present predicament. Refusing his offer to take her to the hunting lodge would be foolhardy indeed.

She prayed her initial instincts to trust him were right.

‘Jessie, you need to wake up, lass.’ The huntsman was back again, speaking softly by her ear, one of his hands gently squeezing her right shoulder. ‘The horses are here.’

With an effort she prised her lids open.

‘Do you think you can stand?’

Although dazed, Jessie found her voice. ‘I’m no’ sure. I’ll try.’

‘Good lass.’

The man slid his arm around her waist to help her up, but as she started to rise, her temporarily forgotten sprained ankle protested. The sharp, shooting pain was so great she cried out in agony and clutched at the man’s arm and shoulder. Her head swam with dizziness and dark spots appeared before her eyes.

‘My ankle … I … I sprained it earlier,’ she gasped.

The man’s mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. ‘Ah, that explains the missing boot. Do you know where you left it?’

Jessie looked about and then gestured toward a pile of leaves by the trunk of the rowan. ‘It’s in my satchel, just over there.’

Still supporting Jessie, the man reached down and snagged the strap with his free hand. Then without another word, he gently swept her up into his arms, as if she were but a child, and carried her out of the copse and across the rocky burn to where Tobias was waiting with two horses.

My goodness, he’s strong
. As the feelings of faintness receded, Jessie became aware of the hard planes of the huntsman’s chest as he cradled her in his arms. He lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all, his hands lingering at her waist.

‘You’re not going to faint on me again now are you?’ he asked, concern creasing his brow.

‘Nay … I think I’ll be fine,’ she replied, avoiding his eyes as she grasped the pommel of the saddle. She was highly aware of the feel of his large, capable hands spanning her torso and was more than a little relieved when he released her to secure her satchel to one of his mount’s saddlebags.

Thunder rumbled again, louder this time. Jessie shivered as a sudden gust of wind tore at them. Despite the drop in temperature, she clumsily shrugged off the huntsman’s coat and offered it to him. ‘I’m sure you would like yer coat back, Lord …’ She looked down at the handsome stranger, a question in her eyes. After everything that had happened, she really wanted to know this man’s name.

He met her gaze and smiled, the attractive, undeniably roguish tilt to his mouth making her blush all over again. ‘I’m flattered that you think me so distinguished. But I’m simply Mr Robert Burnley. And you must call me Rob.’ His fingers brushed hers as he took his coat. ‘Thank you, Jessie.’

The brief contact made her skin tingle in the oddest way and to her consternation, her blush deepened.
What on earth is the matter with me?

Mr Burnley, or Rob as he insisted on being called, slipped the coat back on then unsettled her yet again when he pulled a woollen plaid from the saddlebag. It was the hunting tartan of Clan Grant—a pattern of blue, green and black checks. Jessie had seen a similar plaid blanket in Lord Strathburn’s study. The tartan worn by the local Black Watch regiment also had the same sett.