by Jane Godman
Due only to the fact that Aoidh was nimbler on the rocky terrain than the heavier mounts of the soldiers, Iona was able to put a little distance between herself and her pursuers. It gave her a breathing space, nothing more. The winding forest trail they were following went no further than Cameron House itself. Once the soldiers reached the house, they must know their quarry was somewhere inside. Iona threw herself from the saddle and led Aoidh into her stall. She would be unable to hide, the only way now was to fight or be captured. She had a scant second during which she noticed the strange fact that a lantern was still alight in the stables before a strong hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“I don’t suppose there is any point in asking where you have been?” Edwin’s voice was like the point of a rusty knife being scraped over ice. She didn’t know how long he had been waiting for her to return, but she had never seen fury like that which blazed in the depths of his eyes. Now she wouldn’t even be able to turn and fight when the soldiers arrived! Edwin would simply hand her over as he had threatened. Her shoulders sagged. “What is it?” The anger was still there, but there was a new urgency in his voice as he scanned her face. “Are you hurt? Tell me.”
“Soldiers—” her throat was so tight with weariness and fear that the words wouldn’t come, “—just behind me. They will be here any minute.”
His next words were not what she expected. “Get those clothes off and hide them under the hay.” When she hesitated, his eyes flashed again. “Do it, or so help me, I’ll tear them from your body with my bare hands. Take everything off.”
There was something about him that demanded her obedience, but also prompted her trust. While she did as he said, he tugged off his own coat, cravat and shirt with lightning speed, throwing them down onto the floor of the stall. Iona began to wonder if he might actually be mad. When she was completely naked and trying desperately to hide herself from his gaze, he grabbed up a handful of hay. Coming to her, he caught hold of her by the plaited length of her hair. She shrank back in alarm.
“When are you going to realise, you beautiful idiot, that I am your only chance of getting out of this alive? Keep still.” Swiftly, he loosened the plait and ran his fingers through her hair, tousling it wildly and threading hay into it. Then he snatched up Aoidh’s blanket and draped it around her shoulders. “Go into the next stall. I will be with you when I have unsaddled your horse.”
In something approaching a trance, Iona obeyed. She heard Edwin get to work nearby and then, inevitably, the sound of approaching hoofbeats drowned out everything else. Even the pounding of her heart. Before she could make a move to run or hide, Edwin, true to his promise, joined her.
Without word or warning, he gripped her by her uninjured shoulder, propelling her backward. He pushed her up against the wall of the stall and held her there with his body. The protest that rose to her lips was silenced as Edwin promptly captured them in a kiss of such ferocity that every last ounce of breath was driven from her. The blanket slid to the floor and she was suddenly naked while his hands roamed freely over her body. His tongue forced her lips apart and delved deep inside her mouth. The intrusion was shockingly intimate and intense…and welcome. The rough hunger of Edwin’s caresses claiming the most intimate parts of her body ignited something deep within her core that Iona had never felt before. Heat and moisture pooled between her legs. The sensation was raw and new. He kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, capturing her tongue and sucking it deep into his own mouth. Against her will, she moaned with pleasure, and he pressed his hard body even closer against hers in response.
On the periphery of her consciousness, she heard the soldiers dismount. One of them gave an order for the stables to be searched. In spite of the looming danger, she slid her hands across the solid wall of granite that was Edwin’s chest. His skin was smooth and taut over rippling muscle. Her fingertips brushed his nipples before tracing the coarse hair down as it became softer before dipping into the waistband of his breeches.
“Captain Fleetwood, there’s someone in here, sir!” A voice called out, and Edwin’s lips abruptly left hers. Iona was shocked to hear herself utter a little cry of protest. Half a dozen soldiers crowded forward, blocking the entrance to the stall.
“Don’t speak. Leave this to me,” Edwin whispered as he pulled the blanket back up around her shoulders, ensuring that her injured shoulder was fully covered. He probably wasn’t aware that his warning was unnecessary. Iona could not have uttered a word, even had she wanted to.
“What the devil do you mean by this intrusion?” Edwin stepped forward so that Iona was shielded from their eyes by his body. As the group of soldiers assimilated the situation before them, a slight laugh from one of them met Iona’s ears. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
“Oh, it’s you, sir. We met the other day at Fort William.” The young captain who led the head of the troop moved forward and saluted.
“Yes, Captain Fleetwood, I remember you. You have not, however, answered my question about why you are here on my property in the middle of the night and without my permission.” Edwin’s voice had a distinctly dangerous edge.
“Sir, we have just followed a wanted criminal along the mountain track. The trail led us here. There is nowhere else he can have gone.”
“Then you have been guilty of a mistake, Captain. I have been in these stables for some time—” another snigger greeted his words, “—and I can assure you that no-one has come this way.”
“You will forgive me for asking what you are doing out here at this time on an icy night, sir?” Captain Fleetwood’s voice was hesitant, but he was clearly reluctant to let the matter drop. Behind him, the snigger became a guffaw, and a few ribald comments from the other soldiers ensued.
“I do not see that it is any business of yours if my lady and I should desire a change of scene for a romantic encounter, Sergeant,” Edwin said. Iona stole a glance at his profile. Like his voice, it was as cold and hard as flint.
“Hoo, lady, is it?” One of the soldiers stepped boldly forward and into the stall, attempting to peer around Edwin at Iona. “I’d like to get me a glimpse at the sort of lady who enjoys a tumble in the hay.”
Edwin’s fist flashed out so quickly it was a blur. The man dropped like a stone onto the hard floor, clutching his nose. Blood poured out from between his fingers.
“This lady is my wife. You are a gentleman, Captain Fleetwood, so I need not ask you to keep silent about this night’s events. I will trust you to ensure that your men do likewise. I’ll not take kindly to anyone besmirching Lady Roxburgh’s good name. I think we can all agree that you have made a grave error and are done here. If you leave now, I’ll undertake not to mention this night’s events to your superiors.”
The matter seemed to be in doubt for a moment. Captain Fleetwood’s expression wavered somewhere between obstinacy and fear. The man on the ground spluttered that his nose was broken, and one or two of the others shuffled their feet as if eager to be gone.
“Ain’t no blue-bonneted lad here, that’s for certain-sure, Cap’n,” a soldier muttered. “Got clean away, he did. Like always.”
The captain appeared to reach a decision. Bowing stiffly to Edwin, he ordered the soldiers to return to their horses. “Your pardon, Sir Edwin…my lady…” Turning sharply on his heel, he marched back to his horse. Iona held her breath until she heard them ride away. Exhaling slowly, she waited as Edwin turned to face her.
Chapter Four
The sound of the soldier’s horses faded away, and Edwin permitted himself a feeling of grim satisfaction at the success of his strategy. Then his head rocked to one side as Iona’s right fist connected solidly with his left ear. Stars briefly filled his vision.
“What in hell’s name was that for?” He held his hand to the stinging side of his head and stared down at her outraged face in astonishment.
“You can dare ask me that? When you have just had your hands all over my breasts and between my legs…” She floundered momenta
rily before, with a sound like an enraged cat, flouncing away from him.
He watched as, clutching the blanket tightly around her to cover her nakedness, she strode furiously toward the exit to the stall. “You can thank me any time you like for saving your life.”
“Oh!” That brought her swinging back in his direction. “I’m supposed to thank you for stripping me bare and abusing me in front of a crowd of chuckling onlookers, am I? If you wanted to help, you could have hidden me away, or helped me fight them. But no, not you. That is not Sir Edwin Roxburgh’s way. You had to do it in a way that would cause me the most humiliation. And—” her frown deepened, “—I think you were thoroughly enjoying yourself!”
“I was,” he replied promptly. “At least I’m prepared to admit it. Unlike you, my feisty hypocrite.” Her gasp told him his words had caught a nerve. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, driving home his advantage. “And a very nice tongue it is, as I recall.”
He thought she might fly at him again and waited hopefully, but after an obvious struggle with her emotions, Iona made an attempt to regain her composure. “I suppose I should know better than to expect gentlemanly behaviour from an Englishman.”
He grinned. “Somehow, hay in your hair and this new, dignified manner don’t go together. No—” he held up his hand, “—save the tantrum for later, we have things to talk about.”
“What more can there be to discuss? They are gone.”
“For now. But if you think Captain Fleetwood is going to let this pass without further action, you’ve misjudged him, my lady. If I’ve read that young gentleman correctly, he’ll go straight to the commander at Fort William with this tale.”
“They can prove naught.” She shrugged.
“True, but the commander is my senior officer. He knows full well I have no wife.”
That did catch Iona’s attention and she regarded him thoughtfully. “What will you do?”
“There is only one thing I can do.” With a smile, he reached out and removed a strand of hay from her hair. “Find a parson who will marry us on the morrow.”
“Ye are tetched in the heid. Mad as only an Englishman knows how,” she breathed.
“I must be. But, given the choice of tying myself to a highland wildcat or facing the Duke of Cumberland’s wrath, I find myself drawn to the prettier option.” He smiled down at her. “Which is you, by the way.”
“I’ll not do it,” Iona said, a characteristically stubborn tilt lifting her chin.
Edwin sighed. “Yes, I thought you might say that. Do you think we might go up to the house and continue the inevitable argument somewhere warmer? I’m freezing my balls off out here and—” he smirked again, anticipating her reaction to his next words, “—I’d prefer to keep them intact for our wedding night.”
It was a long night. Iona stormed and raged to no avail. On the contrary, her threats and refusal only managed to amuse Edwin.
“You could try using your feminine wiles. I might respond to those,” he suggested, when, exhausted and feeling the effects of her injury, she sank into a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace and regarded him with an expression of pure loathing.
“I haven’t got any feminine wiles.” Her words sounded suspiciously like a growl.
“When we are married, I will help you to cultivate some,” he said kindly. Iona used her left hand to throw a goblet at his head with surprising accuracy, missing him by a whisker.
Although the smile remained, there was a dangerous light in Edwin’s eyes as he rose and came to stand before her. Grasping her left hand, he drew her up from her chair, holding her with her wrists pinned into the small of her back. Despite the anger on his face, she noted he treated her injured shoulder with care, just as he had in the stable. His chivalry did not make her regard him any more kindly.
“Let me make one thing very clear, Iona. When we are married, I will not tolerate any attempt by you to do me physical harm. I will demand obedience from you.”
Her chest was pressed to his so she could feel his even, measured breathing. No matter how hard she tried, Iona could not match his calm. Her own breath came quick and ragged. To steady herself, she drew in a gulp of air. The movement flattened the softness of her breasts against the muscles of his chest and something flared deep in his eyes. Her indrawn breath became a gasp. “I have told you…I am not going to marry you.”
“What alternative do you have? Think about it. The highland track the soldiers followed ends here. There were only the two of us in that stable. They searched the place, so they know there was no-one else around. You may not have a very high opinion of the intellect of my countrymen, but they will very quickly work out that I am not the slender, stripling lad they seek. I do not meet the physical description of their Jacobite night raider. You, however, fit the bill perfectly. Wife of a Culloden rebel, sister of the mighty Laird of Lachlan…”
Iona felt her face pale at those last words. “Fraser has no part in this.” She sagged against Edwin slightly, the fight leaving her abruptly. Dear God, how could she have been so foolish as to have brought danger to her brother?
“I know that.” Perhaps she imagined the softer tone in his voice because she needed to hear it. “But that will not matter a jot at Fort William. Your brother may have an exemption from attainder, but that won’t count if they can pin this on him. Or they may just settle for your head. And, if Fleetwood works out I lied for you, I’m facing a cell next to yours while we await the executioner. I’ll be honest with you. I’ve felt a measure of protectiveness toward you since we met. God alone knows why. Responsibility toward others is not something I’m known for. Perhaps it’s because Cumberland saw fit to give me your home. Who knows? Whatever the reason, my gallantry doesn’t extend as far as going to the scaffold for you. So, let us have no doubts. You will marry me, even if I have to carry you to the altar.”
She scanned his face, but there was no trace of humour left. There was no question in her mind. He meant it. “You cannot wish to marry me,” she said despairingly.
“No, I don’t. I don’t wish to marry anyone. I must marry one day, so it may as well be now and it may as well be you. You are young, well born and beautiful. You should be capable of bearing me many lusty sons, who, in their turn, will keep you occupied and out of trouble. If that sounds a very one-sided arrangement, it may soften the blow of having to suffer an Englishman in your bed when you recall that you will remain as mistress here. You get Cameron House back.”
That aspect of it had not previously occurred to Iona, and a rush of hope ran through her. Life would not be the same, of course, but some of the things she loved would still be hers. Until that precise moment she had not realised how much she had dreaded leaving her home. “Should marriage not be for love?”
“Did you love Sir Donald?”
Iona shook her head. “No. Ours was an arranged marriage, one intended to strengthen the bonds between the two clans. He was kind to me and I was very fond of him in return, but I did’nae love him. Not as a woman should love a man.”
“Then ours will also be an arranged marriage. The advantage in this case being that it will keep both of our necks attached to our bodies.”
She looked into those dark, stormy eyes. There was something compelling in their depths. Something that spoke of darkness and pain and that would brook no argument. Marriage? It sounded easy when he said it like that. Her intuition told her it could well prove to be anything but. “Very well, Sir Edwin. To save my skin and to keep a roof over my head, I will marry you.”
“Lady Roxburgh,” Iona said, studying the signet ring Edwin had placed on her finger during the brief ceremony. It was too big and she had to keep her hand curled into a fist to prevent it from slipping off. “It sounds very strange.” She glanced up at him with a dawning sense of horror. “Am I English now?”
He laughed. “Yes, that has been Cumberland’s plan all along. If each of his soldiers marries a Scottis
h woman, we should be able to convert the whole country within a decade or two.”
Their plans to marry swiftly initially appeared to be frustrated by the fact that getting married was not the simple task they had originally foreseen. The law in Scotland was fortunately not as rigid as it was in England, where banns of marriage had to be called, or a special licence obtained. But the sudden marriage in her hometown of Lady Cameron to an Englishman she had known only days would attract no little attention. Such a remarkable event was even likely to reach Fort William and the sharp ears of Captain Fleetwood. No reliance could be placed upon that alert young gentleman’s memory failing him. In fact, nothing seemed more likely than him making a link between the wedding date and the night on which he had chased his fugitive. He would know that they had lied to him and awkward questions would inevitably ensue.
“Bugger the lad,” Edwin had said to Iona as they ate breakfast and discussed the matter. Since Iona had reluctantly come round to his point of view, she had joined him considering the best way around the problem. “And heaven save us from all young jackanapes who delight in being overly conscientious.”
After they had debated the matter for some time without reaching any conclusion, Iona had done what she always did in a crisis. She laid the matter before Gordie.
“I have a cousin who is a clergyman, my lady.” Gordie displayed no surprise at the news that his staunchly Jacobite mistress wished to marry a former officer of the Duke of Cumberland’s army with as much haste as she could muster. “The only problem is that he lives in a small village close to the point where the River Leven and Loch Leven meet.”