The Highlander's Excellent Adventure (Survivors, #8)

by Galen, Shana

  She tilted her head. “I think when I begged you to continue, that gave you the right.”

  “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not debauching you.”

  “Maybe I like being debauched.” Her brows rose. “It’s a great deal more fun than being protected.”

  “Yes, well you won’t thank me when your reputation is ruined.”

  She shrugged, and he realized her breasts were fully visible. He had to get away or he would be drawn back by her body. He couldn’t think when she was naked and so close.

  “My reputation is ruined anyway.”

  “We can still salvage it, but you’ll have a devil of a time explaining to your husband why you’re not a virgin. And you won’t be if I stay much longer.”

  A flash of anger crossed her face. “Since I don’t plan to marry, and even if I did it wouldn’t be the sort of man who would judge me for something he no doubt had done himself, I don’t see how that is a concern. And please do not worry. I know you don’t want to marry me. This isn’t a ploy to trap you.”

  How could she stand there arguing, looking so magnificent in her nakedness? Was he supposed to think clearly enough to formulate some sort of response? He couldn’t.

  And then he didn’t have to because she plunged back into the water and started to swim to the other side of the pond, where her clothing had been laid out.

  Before he could look away, she was climbing out of the pond, her round bottom coming into view. It was even better than he’d imagined, and he was aware that his heart sped up. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m good enough to ogle but not to marry, is that it?” she said, her voice cutting through his desire like ice.

  Stratford turned his back. He closed his eyes as well to avoid the temptation of peeking. He didn’t open them until he heard her walk away, and then he still kept them closed for a long time.

  She thought he didn’t want to marry her. She thought he considered her not good enough. He would have to tell her the truth—that he was the one not good enough.

  Sixteen

  INES

  She was miserable. It wasn’t just the Scottish weather that made her miserable. It had been raining for three days now, and she was cold and wet and wondered if she would ever be dry.

  Even worse, her bottom was so sore that she could barely walk—that was when Duncan let them stop long enough to climb down from the horses. The first day they’d ridden on horseback, she’d enjoyed riding behind Duncan. She’d wrapped her arms about his taut waist and pressed her body against his.

  He’d stiffened and had not seemed to relax until they were off the beast. It was as though he didn’t want her touch. She went over and over in her mind what she might have done wrong.

  And she kept coming back to that night in the crofter’s cottage. He’d done things she had not known men and women did together. And he’d made her feel...the pleasure was impossible to describe. But then he’d left her, walked away and left her alone.

  It was as though he’d felt guilty for what he’d done. And then the past few days, he’d barely spoken to her. She had begun to think perhaps he regretted what he’d done. Either that or he thought less of her. After all, women were not supposed to allow men such liberties with their bodies until after they were married. She was hurt and confused and her thoughts were a tangle.

  Why had she been foolish enough to think he would ever marry her? And why had she thought he would fall madly in love with her? Think she was perfect exactly as she was and carry her away to happily ever after? Yes, he was exciting and had shown her a great deal of adventure. But in the end, he wanted a woman who would follow all the rules.

  Well, she wasn’t that woman. At the start of this adventure, she had thought all she needed was a respite from tedious suitors and hours of lacemaking. But now she could not ever imagine going back. Yes, she loved her sister and wanted to be with her, but Ines couldn’t breathe in London. As much as she hated all the rain, she was enchanted by Scotland. The deeper they traveled, and the further north, the more gorgeous the landscape became. It was a rugged country, that much was clear, but the soaring mountains and swaths of flower-filled valleys were beautiful and achingly romantic. It was the sort of place where anything could happen.

  And so much had happened, but now Duncan would not even look her in the eye. Well, at the moment, she couldn’t see his eyes. He was riding in front of her, toward what looked like an impassable mountain, and she was holding on for all she was worth. Behind them Mr. Fortescue and Emmeline seemed to negotiate their horses with ease. They weren’t afraid of being thrown off or sliding off the animal’s back.

  She risked a quick peek behind her, and Emmeline gave her a reassuring smile. The other woman had been unusually quiet lately, too. Come to think of it, so had Mr. Fortescue. Ines wondered if something had happened between them...

  The ground tilted down and though the horse did not stumble, Ines felt herself tilting. She grasped hold of Duncan, and he grunted. “Ye willnae fall, lass,” he said, sounding annoyed.

  “You would not care if I did, senhor,” she said.

  He gave her an exasperated look. “What rubbish is this?”

  “There is não rubbish.”

  He didn’t argue, and she almost wished he would. She wanted an argument with him. She wanted something more than this silence and coldness.

  Hours later, it seemed, the rain slackened, and the late afternoon sun broke through the low clouds. It colored the mountains purple and dark red. In the sunlight, the terrain looked lush and green. Far in the distance, Ines spotted a brook winding through a valley between two mountains. Were they mountains or hills? She was not certain, but they were captivating.

  “We stop here for the night,” Duncan said when they’d reached a clearing with another brook running alongside.

  “The horses have another hour or two in them,” Fortescue said. “We could go further.”

  But Duncan handed Ines down then climbed down himself. Ines clung to the horse, her legs feeling wobbly underneath her.

  “The next leg of the journey is difficult,” he said. “We’ll all do better with a fresh start in the morning.” And that seemed to be the end of the discussion. Ines was happy to be back on solid land again.

  While the men unsaddled the horses and turned them loose to graze, Ines and Emmeline rifled through the saddlebags for something to eat. The farmer had sent them with food, and Duncan had bought more in some of the small villages they passed through, but even Ines, who knew little about such things, could see what they had would not sustain four people for much more than another meal or two at most.

  When Stratford came over to start a fire, he frowned at the meager rations the ladies had laid out. “We’ll have to buy more to eat,” he told Duncan. “This won’t last us long.”

  Duncan didn’t even glance their way. “We’ll be fine.”

  Ines huffed out a breath. “How do you know?” she asked. “You did not look.”

  “I ken,” he said, not glancing at her.

  She called him several unflattering names in her native tongue and a few others she knew. Fortescue stood. “I have to agree with Miss Neves.” He glanced at her. “Not about the names she just called you—I speak Spanish.” He winked. “But, Duncan, we need more provisions.”

  Duncan put his hands on his hips and turned to look at them. Ines hated how her heart thudded in her chest and her lungs grew tight at the sight of him. She couldn’t help but want him. He was so handsome, so much of what she’d always dreamed of.

  But she was not what he wanted. He had made that very clear.

  “At least someone listens to me!” she said. Duncan ignored her. Awful man!

  “Tomorrow we dine at my mother’s table,” Duncan said. Ines stared at him then looked at Emmeline. She wondered if her own jaw had dropped open.

  “We arrive tomorrow?” Stratford asked. “To Kirkmoray?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why didn’t you say some
thing before?” Emmeline asked.

  He shrugged. “Nae one asked.”

  Emmeline rolled her eyes and Ines, so angry, marched away.

  “Lass, where are ye going?” Duncan called.

  “I’ll go with her,” Emmeline said, Loftus following at her heels. Ines slowed enough so that the other woman could catch up. The dog bounded on ahead, keeping just within their sights. The two walked in silence for a long while. Finally, Emmeline stopped at a gentle slope and looked down at a winding ribbon of what Ines assumed must be a road. It looked so small from up here. She studied the green hillsides—or were they mountains?—and the clouds racing over them. Here and there a patch of rock was exposed, proving that underneath the beauty was a hard, cold foundation.

  “It’s very dramatic, isn’t it?” Emmeline asked.

  Ines was familiar with that word as it had been applied to her on many occasions. She nodded. “It makes me feel small. I look at it and feel so small, sim?”

  “Yes,” Emmeline said, her voice fainter. “It does put things in perspective.”

  Ines sank down on the grass, which was not as soft as she would have hoped, being that it was mixed with coarse and prickly vegetation too. But she pulled her knees to her chest and tried to ignore the things poking at her. “I do not know this word, perspective, but I realize now I should have gone back to London.”

  “No,” Emmeline said, sitting beside her. “Ouch. This looks softer than it is.” She tried to find a comfortable spot then gave up and pulled her own legs close, her posture mirroring Ines’s. “If you had gone straight back to London, you would never have had this adventure. I would never have had this adventure. I’ve always wanted to see Scotland, and now I have.” She took Ines’s hand. “I know those reivers were awful, but this journey has not all been bad.”

  Ines gave her a sidelong look. “There was the time Duncan was shot and almost died.”

  “That was when we found Loftus,” Emmeline said brightly. In the distance, Loftus raised his gray head and looked at them, having heard his name.

  “He is a good dog,” Ines agreed. “There was the time the Duke of Mayne caught us and almost dragged us back.”

  “Yes, but we outwitted him!”

  “And left our coach behind.” Ines wriggled her toes, which were still sore from all the walking they had done.

  “You and I have become friends,” Emmeline said. “Remember when Murray and Stratford thought you did not understand English?”

  Ines smiled. “That seems like years ago. And now tomorrow I will meet his mother.”

  Emmeline took her hand. “I agree that is a prospect to frighten even the bravest among us. Lady Charlotte is a legend.”

  Ines tilted her head to see Emmeline better. “You know her?”

  “I know of her. She was something of a warning to my sisters and me. My mother said that when she was presented at her first Season, all of London fell in love with her. Poems were written about her, songs were composed in her honor, and men swooned.” She glanced at Ines. “I rather doubt that last part, but that is what my mother said.”

  “I see.” Ines smiled at the thought of men thirty or so years ago swooning in their wigs and their ornate silk coats. “Why did they swoon? Because she was so beautiful?”

  “Yes, but also because she was so shocking. This is the part that was supposed to be a lesson, for me in particular. Lady Charlotte said what she thought and did as she liked. She smoked and gambled and danced with a man three times in a row.”

  “This is not acceptable? To dance with a man three times?”

  “Not for ladies in my circle, no.” Emmeline released Ines’s hand and clasped her arms about her knees. “She was so beautiful and popular that the hostesses were obliged to continue to invite her to their parties, but after a month or so of this shocking behavior, even the most liberal hostesses had to shun her. Do you know her sin?”

  Ines shook her head.

  “She had fallen in love with an unsuitable man.”

  “James Murray?”

  “Yes. He was the brother of the Duke of Atholl, which made him good enough to gain admittance to Almack’s, but no English lady was to seriously consider him. He was not rich or well-connected or powerful. He was just the younger son of a duke.”

  “Was he handsome?” Ines asked.

  Emmeline laughed. “I asked my mother the same thing, and she told me that was not the point of the story. But I think he must have been. And he liked how Lady Charlotte spoke her mind and did as she pleased.”

  “It sounds romantic.”

  “It does, but my mother’s point was that only an uncouth Scot would want a wife like that, and if my sisters and I wanted to marry decent men, we should shut up and flutter our lashes and pretend we had not a thought in our heads.”

  “I am glad I am not part of your world sometimes.”

  “I no longer want any part of it, either. Neither did Lady Charlotte. She eloped with James Murray. The marriage was not valid, of course. She was not one and twenty, but by the time her family caught up to the pair, she had been thoroughly ruined and the scandal would be less if they simply agreed to the marriage. So they did, and Lady Charlotte, who had been a celebrated debutante faded into obscurity and became”—Emmeline stretched and yawned—"a cautionary tale.”

  “She followed her heart,” Ines said. “I do not see why that is so wrong.”

  “But by doing so, she lost everything else—her family, her friends, her reputation. I am not one to lecture, Ines.” Emmeline stood. “God knows I have been lectured to enough, but as your friend, you should think about what you are doing. I know you have fallen in love with Duncan Murray.”

  Ines looked up at her. “It is obvious?”

  “It is. But before you give up everything to marry him, consider what you lose. Your sister. Your lacemaking. Your independence. Scotland is beautiful.” She made a wide arc with one arm. “But it is rugged and harsh and difficult to survive.”

  “It does not matter,” Ines said, looking back down at the darkening road below them. “He does not want me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmeline said and started away. Ines turned to ask her to wait and saw Duncan approaching. His walk was impossible to miss, even though he was in shadow. He walked confidently, with long, fearless strides. He nodded at Emmeline as she passed and gave the dog a quick pat when Loftus stopped to sniff him before racing off to keep company with Emmeline.

  Ines looked back at the clouds, great gray hulks, looming over the Highlands. Duncan stopped beside her. “It’s getting cold, lass. Come back tae the fire.”

  “Oh, now you want to talk to me?” This was not quite accurate. He had not said he wanted to talk to her, just that he wanted her to come to the fire.

  “I have nae ceased talking tae ye,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “To say, hold on or get down. That is all.”

  “Do ye want me tae blather on all day?”

  “I want you to say something to me!” She stood, which still only put her to his shoulder. “The night in the cottage—”

  “I dinnae want tae talk of that.”

  “I do. I thought...” She swallowed. Well, why not say it? This might be her last chance. “I thought you cared for me.”

  “Christ and all the saints!” he exploded. She jumped at his voice, but he grasped her arm and drew her near. “I do care for ye, lass, and that’s why I’m angry with ye.”

  She frowned. He was angry with her because he cared for her?

  “I’m angry that yer such an idiot.”

  She yanked her arm away from him.

  “I told ye tae go back tae London, but ye insisted on coming along and have almost gotten yerself killed a half dozen times.”

  Ines glared at him. “That is...what is the word? Exaggeration!”

  “Maybe, but that’s how it feels tae me. Yer not safe here. What if those reivers had decided tae rape ye? Yer eyes widen, but dinnae think the
thought dinnae cross their minds. What if Stratford and I had lost against them?”

  “You would never have lost.”

  Duncan shook his head. “Anything can go wrong in a fight. And if we’d lost, then what would have happened tae ye? If I lost ye, how could I go back tae Colonel Draven and tell him ye were gone?”

  She crossed her arms, mimicking his stance. “And that is your concern? If I died, you would have to tell my brother-in-law?”

  “Ye ken that’s not the whole of it.”

  “Then what is the whole of it, Duncan? I love you.” She tried to move into his arms, but he held up a hand.

  “Dinnae say such things.”

  “Why not? It is true.”

  “Then find someone else tae love.”

  “I do not want to find someone else. I want to love you. You do not love me.” Her voice broke. “Just tell me.” His face wavered as the tears spilled from her eyes. She had not wanted to cry, but she could not seem to hold them back. She swiped at them angrily, wishing she could control them.

  “I dinnae love ye, lass,” he said, the words like a knife piercing her heart. She stepped back at the force of them, though he’d said them quietly. “Ye dinnae understand. I cannae love ye.”

  “Because I am not English.”

  He laughed. “Nae. Because I have nae heart. It sickened a long time ago, and I have done all I can tae stomp on it and wring it and eke the last bit of life from it. Everra time I killed in the war, my heart died a little more until I felt nothing. I still feel nothing.”

  She stared at him for a long time. His amber eyes were hard, like the fossils she had seen with the flies trapped inside. But she’d also seen those eyes warm and welcoming. She shook her head. “Não.”

  “What do ye mean, nae? It’s my heart. I ken it.”

  “I do not think so. There is life in it yet, but you are afraid of it.”

  His expression turned hard. “I am not afraid.”

  Ah, she had dented his armor. She could see it now. His eyes were still hard, but there was warmth inside them too. “Not of a battle. Not of an outlaw. But of a woman? Sim, I scare you.”