She put a log in the fireplace, watching the dying embers catch. Then she found a needle and thread, and small knife. She dragged a heavy chair over to the window and started cutting as she kept an eye on the stable.
Something was very odd about his leaving tonight. It did not make sense. She wanted to know where he was going. And whether it had anything to do with her. Knowledge was a weapon, and she badly needed one at the moment.
She cut off part of the trouser legs, then tried them on. They were huge around her waist. She needed a belt. She had not considered that. Another trip would be necessary.
Janet slipped them off, put them in the wardrobe and changed into her shift and dressing gown. She looked again out the room. It was nearly midnight, and all was quiet. Only a few torches in wall sconces gave light. She slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind her and turned, suddenly finding herself face-to-face with Braemoor.
He looked even more startled than she felt. He was dressed in dark clothing and had slung a black cloak around his shoulders.
“My lord,” she said.
“My lady,” he replied with wry amusement. “I did not expect you to be up this late. Can Torquil fetch you something?”
“I wanted only some milk,” she said, “and I can fetch that myself.”
His gaze moved up and down her body. His eyes were dark and the shadows did nothing to lighten them, but she saw something like desire flash across his face. “You look much too bonny in that,” he said.
The night robe was white, and her hair was down, ready to be braided for the night. She felt naked without the usual armor of petticoats and drawers, without the severe knot and matronly cap. She crossed her arms against her still-full breasts.
Her eyes went back to his face. It was shadowed with new beard, and a lock of thick dark hair fell over his forehead. In all black garments, he looked dangerous, even mysterious. He did not look like the Neil she had come to know in the past several weeks. That Neil was practical and reserved, and sure of himself. A man who had been a stranger and intent on remaining that way. This Neil had a dangerous glint in his eyes. He looked more brigand than lord.
She could not take her gaze from those eyes.
Not even when he bent his head and his lips captured hers and she found herself responding just as she had several weeks ago. Her lips remembered that kiss at Lochaene the night before he had left. The night he was so badly injured. Now he was going out into the night again and fear ran through her.
She did not want to care. But she did. Desperately.
His arms went around her and crushed her to him. His kiss deepened, his tongue entering her mouth.
She cautioned herself. Remember what happened last time. It had obviously meant nothing to him. And yet …
Her tongue met his. They tasted each other, then sought those secret, sensitive places that ignited so many feelings. She felt small in his embrace, small and protected, and it was a good feeling. She did not want it to feel good.
She tried to move away, but his grip on her did not relax. He closed his mouth and it left hers, but moved to her cheek. He kissed her with all the gentleness she expected existed in the world, his lips progressing ever so slowly up her face, each touch a tender whisper of a kiss until he reached her forehead. Then his lips rested there, and his arms cradled her.
She felt the hard planes of his body, felt him tense, and her own body melded itself to his. It felt so … right, just as it had so long ago. But then there had been a sweetness and exploration, and now the emotions were bolder, stronger, full of such conflicting emotions that they created a blizzard of feelings.
They had been there, inside, untapped. And now they flowed unhampered, sparking and sizzling, hurtling her into a world without limits or barriers. She was so hungry for his touch, for the feel of his body.
One of her hands touched the back of his head, letting the hair tangle between her fingers. Her body ached with internal tension and fierce wanting. She did not know how she could be so wanton now; she only knew she could not let him go, not now, not without scaling that wall he always erected between them.
Janet saw his quiet eyes blaze with fire, felt his hand stroke her neck. His other arm remained around her, holding her as if he never wanted to let it go.
Neil told himself to stop, but he had never wanted anything as much in his life as to take her inside his room and make love to her, slowly and exquisitely. He wanted her so much it caused gut-wrenching agony. He wanted it even more knowing the bloody fool errand upon which he was about to embark. He felt the passion in her, the passion he had seen in her protection of the girls, in the way she held her son. She had tried to hide it, mayhap even tried to bury it, but it was there. And it was something that had always eluded him. It was, he knew, what had attracted him so many years ago.
Those dark blue eyes had been like a lodestone to someone who had always lived life as an observer.
He put his face next to hers, felt its softness, the smoothness of her skin, and the contact was like a balm to his soul. His arms tightened around her as he tried to capture the feeling and keep it in his mind and heart. For a moment in time, he allowed himself to savor every sensation, to bask in the intimacy of their touch. He belonged here. He had always belonged here.
And he knew he could have it. He could explain why he had done the unforgivable years ago. He could tell her he loved her, had always loved her, would always love her. And in this moment, he knew she would accept it. Accept him.
Dear God, he needed that.
She looked up at him, her gaze steady and searching but also misty with the same sensations flowing through him.
Then what?
A marriage to a man who might turn into a monster.
With a groan, he pulled away. How do you give up every dream you have ever had? Especially when it was so near.
You did, if you had honor.
His hand caught her face and his fingers memorized every feature, every curve, every expression. She was gazing at him with puzzlement now. “I must go,” he said, and yet he could not move his hand.
She did not move for a moment. Instead, their gazes locked together. Raw emotions ran through hers—desire, need, hurt, bewilderment. They both seemed unable to move, as if they were locked together by some irresistible force. “Do not go,” she finally whispered.
The words made his heart pound. Something large and painful lodged in his throat.
Trust. She was offering trust. She was offering herself. He did not believe he could hurt more. He leaned toward her and his lips brushed hers. It was a farewell kiss, and she knew it. She stepped back, her gaze never moving from his. Her face was set, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
He wanted to offer her the truth. And his heart.
But nothing had changed. He could never offer her marriage. And he could not bear seeing pity—or horror—in her eyes. Would the truth help, or only make the present—and future—more painful?
His hand touched her face again, then turned toward the stairs. It was more than past time to leave. Burke would be sorely tried.
Mayhap even enough to try to finish what he had started days ago.
Stunned by the impact of her emotions and her own actions, Janet leaned against the other side of the door. How many times would she humiliate herself before learning he did not want her? Why in God’s name had she offered herself with those three words? Do not go.
Because she would have sworn she saw love in his eyes.
When would she learn not to see what she wanted to see?
The door was too heavy to hear anything, to tell whether he had left or not. She waited for a moment, wondering whether he would knock. Yet deep inside, she knew he would not.
At least he had not seen the clothes on her bed.
She took a deep breath. How could he still affect her this way? What was it she thought she saw in him? Her legs felt weak as she walked to the bed. She was trembling all over. She clung to a post for
a moment, then scolded herself. She finally stood upright and took the clothes, then went over to the window and looked down like some imprisoned princess in the fairy tale she had so recently read to the girls.
She had barely reached it when she saw him stride across the courtyard as if he had a meeting with the devil. It was in the square set of his shoulders, the long and yet somehow hesitant steps. He turned and looked up, and she looked down, unwilling to dart out of sight. He stared upward for a moment, then disappeared into the stable.
In minutes, he was riding away on a large dark horse. Together they looked like a shadow. She watched as the horse stretched into a slow trot and he turned right toward the village. She understood that his new properties were west, in the other direction.
Janet slipped off her dressing gown and shift and pulled on the trousers she had just altered. She did not have time to find a belt so she cut a strip from the bed cloth and tied it around her to keep the trousers from slipping away. Then she pulled on the shirt and jacket.
It was too late to follow him. But she could ride off some of her own emotions. Foolish. It would be a fool thing to do. He had told her not to ride without an escort. But she had to find a moment of freedom. To feel control for just an hour of time.
She wrapped a cloak around her to cover her costume, though everyone should be abed this night. Then she ran down the stairs, across the hall and through the door toward the stables.
Cautiously, she opened the door. She left the door open slightly while her eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness. Then she went to the tack room. Sleeping quarters for two grooms, including young Jamie, were on the other side of the wall, so she tried to move stealthily. She picked the lightest saddle and found a mare that looked fast. She quickly saddled the animal, then walked the horse outside. Only then did she rise easily into the saddle, remembering how she used to ride astride with her brother a lifetime ago.
She walked the animal down the path that Braemoor had taken. The moon was full, the night a rare clear one.
The horse felt good under her. If she had not been intent on trying to find out where Braemoor was going at this time of night, she would have enjoyed every moment of it.
There had been something about him tonight, though. Something odd and mysterious. She kept trying to tell herself that was the reason she’d lost all remnant of reason. He’d been different.
His horse had been trotting when he’d turned on the road. Mayhap she could make up those few moments of time. Yet she would have to be careful. She did not want him seeing her.
For a few glorious moments she let the mare run. She leaned forward against the wind and her body moved with the smooth easy gait of the mare. The road was straight and she kept her eyes open for anything ahead. Nothing.
She reached the village. An old man was walking unsteadily, apparently having been drinking someplace. She pulled up the horse. “Have you seen anyone riding this way?”
“Nay,” he said and trudged on.
Could he be that far in front?
It had been a mad thing to do anyway. She turned the horse and started back. Mayhap she could put her in the stall without anyone knowing. It had been a small adventure, in any event. She had slowed to a walk when she heard horses just ahead. The fields had given way to a stand of trees that ran along a stream. She pulled the mare back into the woods and watched through the trees.
Two riders came from between the trees just ahead and turned back toward Braemoor. She could only see the back of them. One rode well and wore a black cloak; the other rode awkwardly in a way that pricked at her memory. Braemoor was one. She was sure of that. His height gave him away, as did the easy seat.
And the other …
And why would he be meeting someone out here in the middle of the night? Why not at Braemoor? She’d had no idea what she might find, or even what she’d hoped to discover. Mayhap she even hoped she would meet him and he would return with her. It had been impulsive and unwise.
She’d just needed to display some independence, some control.
And now she knew no more than she had before.
She waited until the two disappeared from sight, and then she rode to where they had exited the woods. A path. She turned and went down it. It seemed almost to disappear at times, but her mount seemed oblivious to the heavy brush. Finally they emerged in a clearing. A cottage sat alongside a stream.
Although it was a cool night, no smoke rose from the chimney, and shutters covered the windows. After a moment’s indecision, she dismounted and went to the door. She knocked several times, but no one answered. After a moment, she opened the door and entered.
The interior smelled musty, and the ashes in the fireplace were cold. The moonlight coming through the door allowed her to see a plate and cup on the table. There was also the smell of an unwashed body lingering in the room. The cottage had obviously been abandoned, yet someone had stayed here, someone who had not used the fireplace. That meant the occupant had not wanted anyone to know he was here.
She sat at the table and looked around. Her eyes became accustomed to the dim light. A large pot sat at the side of the fireplace. How long had it been empty? And who had lived here?
She had not been here before, did not even know it existed. She wondered whether someone had lived here eight years earlier when she visited Braemoor. But then, she had been so consumed with Neil that she had noticed little else.
The questions were intriguing enough to bring her back tomorrow. She might have to escape Kevin, but she could manage that. Maybe the cottage held secrets about Braemoor. Who had he met here? Why had they not come up to the house?
Did it have something to do with her? Or was there some other nefarious reason?
Braemoor and Burke rode fast. Braemoor needed the distraction for a mind constantly recalling every second of his encounter with Janet. How could he have let it happen?
The night robe? Her hair? His upcoming journey, which could well end in disaster?
Whatever, it was well that he had told Burke he would go tonight, rather than in several days. Now he would get this business done, then visit his properties. By then he hoped to have his emotions back in control.
He spurred his mount, leaving a cursing Burke behind again. He knew most of the way, needed help only on the very last part of the journey, and he did not want to be seen with the man. Burke looked exactly like what he was: a cutpurse.
He judged they would reach the mountains by dawn, then could lose themselves in the mist that usually covered the mountains.
The hours droned on. They avoided roads, riding across fields and through the heather-covered fields. Neither of them suggested stopping except to rest and water the horses. Neil had brought along oatmeal, cheese and hard bread, and they shared that at dawn, then started up into the mountains. It was a relentless pace, and hard on the horses, but Scottish animals were bred for sturdiness.
They stopped at one stream to let them drink, and when they were to start again Burke approached him. “I must blindfold you.”
“I think not.”
“Then you will go no farther.”
Neil considered that. “Then you will not have the funds.”
Burke had his pistol out now. “I think I will, Braemoor.”
No fawning “my lord” here.
“And what would your lord say?”
It was a guess, but when Burke’s eyes widened, Neil knew he was right. Will indeed came from the nobility. And his name was obviously not Will. Then who was he?
Neil’s curiosity flared even more than it had. He knew from Burke’s eyes that he would not go one foot farther until Neil agreed to be blindfolded. It was a stupid thing to do here in the mountains, even if he were not accompanied by a man who had previously tried to kill him. But he had come this far, and his interest in Will had increased with every step. Mayhap it was time to take chances. He shrugged. “All right, but it will be a piece of my clothes, not yours.”
Burke s
hrugged. He was obviously willing to be generous now that he had won this concession.
“How far is it?” Braemoor said.
Burke frowned.
“God’s breath, I will know when I arrive whether it has been one hour or three,” Braemoor said as he took his dirk from his belt and pulled his shirt out of his trousers, then cut a strip off. “Do you at least trust me to put it on?”
Burke looked startled, then suspicious. He obviously had not expected such cooperation. He snorted, then said, “I will do it.”
“Not too tightly,” Neil said lightly. “And please remember that to get my money, you must keep me alive.”
“You do not have it with you?”
“I am not that big a fool, my friend,” he said. “You had a choice between me or the money.”
Burke cursed loudly, then roughly took the cloth from Neil’s hand and tied it tightly around his eyes.
Neil was holding to the reins and easily found the stirrups to mount. Once in the saddle, he felt the reins jerked away. After another pause they started moving. For a moment, he wondered whether he really wanted to stake his life on Burke’s riding ability, but the man had obviously been in and out of the mountains. He tried to relax. He tried to think of something else, but that meant Janet, He did not know if he was prepared to revisit that kiss.
He tried to turn his mind to the estates, but it kept wandering back to her, to the glazed look in her eyes. How he wanted her to look that way all the time, to look up at him with wonder.
And then his thoughts wandered into dangerous territory: Mayhap his mother’s madness would not touch him.
Could he take that chance? More important, could he ask Janet to take that risk?
The questions haunted him as they climbed up the mountain. Mist moistened his face, then rain pelted it like tiny icy needles. After what seemed like hours, they came to a stop. He reached back and pulled the blindfold from his face and found himself in a thicket of trees. He slid from the saddle.
Burke had already dismounted and was leading his horse directly into dense woods. Neil followed as the rain continued to beat down upon him. They wound around a barely visible path, then reached an opening in the mountain. Once inside, he recognized the interior of the cave. A fire heated the interior. The young girl he remembered from before stooped before the heat.
The Heart Queen Page 26