Ann Lethbridge

by Her Highland Protector

  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 pull
ed 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.’

  He smiled, but did not look up, his large hands easing the small ball down the barrel and ramming it home. ‘Aye. And then done just as you wished.’

  She laughed. ‘You know me too well.’

  He did look up, then, and heat blazed in his eyes. An answering flush ran through her body. Attraction. Desire. All the things she must not feel for this man. She turned her face away.

  ‘You are as courageous as any man I know,’ he said softly. ‘You have been through a great deal these past few hours. Most women would be having a fit of hysterics.’

  He thought her too much of a hoyden. ‘I could faint, if it would please you better,’ she said somewhat bitterly.

  ‘No. I beg you do not.’

  She couldn’t help chuckling at his horrified expression. Perhaps he did not think her too hoydenish after all, but she wasn’t entirely without feminine arts. Careful not to shower crumbs on the bedcovers, she folded the napkin and put it back on the chest beside a silver-backed hand mirror. She picked it up and peeked at her reflection. ‘Oh, heavens, my hair. What a mess. Now that is enough to make me faint.’

  He laughed. ‘You look lovely.’

  ‘No need for sarcasm.’

  He sobered. ‘I mean it. You look like a creature of the glens. Wild and beautiful.’

  She threaded her fingers through a hank of hair, pulling at the tangles. ‘I see what you mean about wild. It will take days to get these knots out.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And the smell of fish.’

  ‘I can’t smell it,’ he said.

  She leaned forwards and held out a handful. ‘Surely you can.’

  He sniffed. ‘I can only smell you. And you smell of heather and roses.’

  Her insides curled pleasurably. She batted her lashes just to prove she knew he was joking. ‘Flatterer.’

  He smiled. And the sensations inside her only intensified. She felt restless. On edge. Because she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel him against her. She could feel her hands itching to reach out to him.

  To give herself something to do with those wanton fingers, she sat back against a cushion and worked at the knots, one strand at a time.

  He tucked his weapon under a pillow. ‘Sean,’ he called out.

  ‘Yes, Mr Gilvry.’

  ‘Do you happen
to have a comb among your wares?’

  ‘I thought you would never ask. The penny combs are in a basket at the foot of the bed. You can leave the penny in its place.’

  Niall grimaced. ‘I’ll have to owe you.’

  ‘Then consider it a gift,’ the gypsy said.

  Niall tossed Jenna a comb and she began work on her hair. Soon her eyes were watering and she was hissing in pain.

  He came around behind her on his knees and took the comb from her hand. ‘Let me.’

  Surprised, she looked back over her shoulder. ‘Playing lady’s maid now as well as knight in shining armour?’

  ‘Hardly that. But I can’t bear to see you cry.’

  She laughed. How did he know how to make her laugh when she ought to be worried? He took the comb from her hand. ‘I promise to be gentle.’

  Braced for the pain she knew was inevitable, she gave him her back, squaring her shoulders, only to be surprised by his gentle, skilful touch. She relaxed, leaning back on her elbows, and enjoyed the sensual pleasure of the feel of his fingers amid her hair. Her limbs turned languid, her eyelids drooped and a strange kind of tension built inside her. Yearning laced with desire.

  Sensations she had no business feeling.

  The rhythmic stroking was interspersed with small shiver-making touches as he teased out the knots and his knuckles occasionally brushed her nape or her scalp. She felt herself drift. She yawned.

  ‘You get some sleep,’ Niall said. He yawned, too. ‘I can barely keep my eyes open,’ he muttered.

  At the suggestion, she closed her eyes as if they were weighted by lead. She leaned back, yawned again and closed her eyes. The last thing she heard was Niall organising the cushions to act as a barrier between them. He reached up to put out the lamp. She gave a little shiver and put a hand out. ‘Leave the light. Lately, I have spent too much time in the dark.’

  He nodded. ‘You have been verra brave, Lady Jenna. Now relax and I will see you safe.’

  Yes. She believed he would. With him beside her she could relax.

  * * *

  Niall came awake with a start. Or rather became aware of a raging arousal. It took a moment for the rocking motion and sounds of hoofs and wheels to make him realise where he was. Damn. He’d fallen asleep when he had intended to keep watch. How long had they been travelling? The lantern had gone out and no light showed through the canvas. Perhaps he’d only dozed?