‘But … It all makes sense now, about you and Simon. Oh God, Simon … he … when you an’ Tobias were speaking last night … when you were at the loch … Simon and I … It’s no’ what you think …’ She was babbling, backing away from him as best she could. There was a hard set to Robert’s mouth as he followed her around the table. She bumped into the wall behind her. Fear gripped her heart. What would he do now that she’d recognised him—now she definitely knew too much?
Robert towered over her, his eyes suddenly hard and assessing. A muscle worked in his cheek. ‘So tell me, Jessie Munroe, how are things really between you and my half-brother? How am I supposed to trust you?’ He leaned forward and rested a muscled forearm against the wall beside her head, his eyes boring into hers. ‘He’s your lover, is he not?’
She swallowed, barely able to breathe. Robert’s bare chest was a breath away from her—her lips were just above his collarbone. Now was the time to tell him the truth … but she was too ashamed. And she feared he wouldn’t believe her.
Hot tears flooded her eyes and threatened to spill. Robert was so close, she could feel the handle of the dirk pushing into her abdomen. Feel the heat radiating from his body. She recalled his words last night. They echoed in her head.
She was a threat, a problem, a complication.
I’m in danger.
‘Well, Jessie?’ Robert gripped her jaw, forcing her chin up. His gaze searched hers for a moment, then dropped to her mouth. Panic flared. Stole her breath. His mouth hovered over hers.
Oh God, he was going to kiss her. And the kiss would not be kind.
No. Not like this.
‘Simon and I are hand-fasted. So I’d suggest you leave me be, Robert Grant,’ she breathed against his lips.
Robert froze. His eyes darkened to the blue-black of storm clouds and he abruptly released his bruising hold on her jaw. Then without a word, he turned on his heel, grabbed his shirt off the chair and marched outside. Through the wide open door, she saw him stride over to the burn and drop to his knees before sluicing water over his face.
Jessie sank to the ground too, her whole body shaking. There was no way to tell if her mad bluff would make things safer for her. She simply prayed that if she was seen as important to Simon, someone of consequence, surely Robert would not harm her. He would assume that Simon would be searching for her sometime today. He would have to move on, or risk capture. But would he let her go?
Dear Lord, what had she done? Why had she jumped straight from the frying pan into the fire? She felt tarnished, tainted, as if she’d sold her soul to the very devil himself. And Robert probably thought that about her too. Oh, she was a foolish henwit indeed.
* * *
The icy cold water of the burn shocked Robert into a semblance of calmness. Damn it to hell. Things were worse than they seemed.
Jessie’s admission about her betrothal to Simon hurt as acutely as any bayonet slice. But there was no time to dwell on his feelings right now. There was no doubt about it. Simon would be looking for this woman. The question was, how much time did he have before Simon ventured out on his search with or without the Black Watch or even the dragoons?
Either way, Jessie would be coming with him, wherever he moved onto next. He couldn’t afford to leave her here. She would give away his presence in the area. For now, his only advantage was that no one except Jessie knew of his return to Scotland.
He stood and threw on his shirt. Robert judged that they may still have a little time between now and when any search was conducted up here. It was early and it would take some time for any sizeable search party to negotiate the steep terrain and narrow mountain pass that was the only way into this isolated glen. Tobias was in fact scouting the area right now for any signs of activity.
The time to question Jessie Munroe further had definitely come. He needed to know exactly who she was and why she had been up here alone in the first place. And if she was betrothed to Simon, why hadn’t she mentioned it yesterday when she had claimed an acquaintance with his father and stepmother? Something about her story didn’t make sense. Yes, it was definitely time for Miss Munroe to stop playing games and reveal the truth.
* * *
The sound of approaching hooves roused Jessie from where she sat on the floor. Even though her knees still shook, she managed to stand. Through the open door, she could see Tobias astride his horse, talking with Robert. Tobias glanced toward her as the two men spoke, then quickly looked away. He nodded at something Robert said before dismounting and leading his horse away.
Jessie thought she would be sick waiting to see what would happen next.
Robert also disappeared from her direct line of sight. As Jessie hobbled toward the door, Tobias appeared on the threshold. Gone was his affable expression of the evening before. He gave her a token nod by way of greeting before walking to the dining table where he carefully placed a small parcel of foraged food—several duck eggs and a small quantity of late season blaeberries. He obviously hadn’t been to Lochrose yet.
She was at a loss as to what to do, so she sat at the table and watched Tobias crack the eggs into a skillet over the fire. As the eggs began to crackle and spit, Robert returned, shrugging into his brown coat. He’d also tied a simple linen cravat around his throat. Pulling down the cuffs on his coat, there was no doubt in her mind he was Robert Grant, the former Viscount Lochrose and Master of Strathburn.
A Jacobite with a price on his head.
He turned his gaze on her. ‘I suggest you finish getting dressed and collect your things,’ he said curtly. ‘We’ll be leaving soon.’
But where were they going? Jessie nodded, wanting to ask the question but something in Robert’s expression stopped her. His eyes were still as cold and dark as the sky at midnight. It was a stranger’s gaze. It surprised her how much the change in his demeanour stung. But what else had she expected from him after uttering such a lie about her relationship with Simon?
Silly, silly girl.
Without a word, she returned to the bedchamber. Regardless of whether she went with him or tried to escape, she would need her things.
She stuffed her still damp shift and stockings from yesterday into her satchel, then fed her ruined gown to the fire. There wasn’t much point in taking it with her. She would not cry. She refused to. The tears that blurred her vision, she assured herself, were only the result of the sharp pain in her arm as she carelessly threw her scarlet cloak around her shoulders and then the agony of thrusting her sprained ankle into her boot. They were not from anguish or fear about what was to happen next. And what she needed to happen next was to get to Edinburgh.
On returning to the main room, it was to find that Robert and Tobias were nowhere to be seen, although she could here activity outside. A plate of food had been left for her—a fried egg, an oatcake and a handful of berries. Although her appetite had all but gone, she forced herself to eat. Who knew when her next meal would be?
As she picked at the last few berries on her plate, she noticed that the fire had been extinguished. Damp ash and a few wisps of smoke were all that remained. Robert suddenly appeared in the doorway with a bucket and without a glance at her, strode past before disappearing into the main bedchamber. She heard water splash and a faint sizzle as the last of the coals and embers were put out. They must be leaving immediately. She didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, but only God knew what Robert was planning. Perhaps she should sneak out the door now and try to take one of the horses while the men were distracted.
At that moment, Robert returned. Damn.
He leaned against the table next to her, his arms folded across his chest. His expression was inscrutable and her heart sank as heavily as a stone. She was a fool indeed to think she had any chance of stealing away.
‘Now, Miss Munroe, the time has come for plain speaking,’ he said, his voice edged with steel. ‘I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with here. I suspect that my brother will be out looking for you this morning. Wou
ld you agree?’
She licked her lips, her throat dry. Miss Munroe, was it? He was clearly angry and distancing himself from her. If she couldn’t escape, she needed to retract her lie, no matter the cost. Convince him that she wouldn’t betray him. ‘Perhaps he will … I do no’ know for certain,’ she said, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. ‘You see, I need to explain … about yesterday and what you saw at the loch—’
‘I know what I saw.’
‘It’s no’—’
Robert cut her off. ‘How long have you and Simon been betrothed?’
He wouldn’t believe her, not now. The painful realisation sliced into Jessie as sharply as the blade of Robert’s dirk. She swallowed past the tight ache in her throat and resumed her charade; she hated lying but refuting her claim was useless. It was too late. ‘Not long,’ she whispered.
‘You are not from the area. Where are your kin?’
‘My father is Alasdair Munroe, the younger brother of the former Laird of Dunraven in Cromartyshire, Sir Dugald Munroe. He is all the immediate family I have.’
‘And where is your father? I assume he will be out looking for you too.’
Jessie shook her head. ‘No, he won’t be. He doesna know that I left. He is out touring all of the villages on the Strathburn estate, collecting rents. He will be gone for a week at the verra least.’
Robert raised an eyebrow in query.
Jessie continued, her eyes locked with his. ‘He has recently taken up the position as factor for yer father. My uncle … incurred considerable debts an’ his estate became forfeit to the bank. Despite the family’s loss, our solicitor, who is also Lord Strathburn’s, recommended my father for the position as indeed, the loss of the Munroe fortune was in no part attributable to my father’s mismanagement, but to my uncle’s profligate ways. An’ it would seem yer father needed assistance with managing his estate’s affairs.’
It was a relief to share something with Robert that was true. Jessie just prayed he would believe her …
* * *
Robert ran his gaze over Jessie’s face. His gut instincts told him she was telling him the truth about where she hailed from and how she came to be at Lochrose. It fitted with his theory that she was gently reared, not a servant. He was sure there was more to her family’s story, but now was not the time to pursue that particular topic further.
What did surprise him though, given what he had just learned of her, was that there was in fact a betrothal between her and his brother. He could see Simon taking her as a lover … but it was not a match that he would have expected Simon to make. Nor one that his stepmother would condone for that matter. As for his father, he frankly didn’t know what he would make of such a union.
Robert would have thought that a suitably aristocratic young woman or at the very least a wealthy merchant’s daughter would be the match of choice for Simon, given his stepmother’s avaricious nature. It would certainly not be the niece of an impoverished laird, no matter how well bred or comely the lass.
Unless … unless of course the lass had to get married for some reason. He wouldn’t put it past Simon to have compromised her. Or was it the other way round? It was not unheard of for a woman to catch herself a wealthy, titled husband by such means. In either case, he knew his father would insist Simon do what was right and honourable and marry the lass.
The cynical part of him also wondered how important it was to Jessie that she was now going to wed the heir to the Earldom of Strathburn. Was she eagerly anticipating becoming the next countess? He could also imagine her father would be well pleased at the match, given he and his brother had recently lost everything. Perhaps the girl had thrown herself at Simon, with her father’s blessing.
There was still one part of Jessie’s story that he didn’t quite understand however. ‘Miss Munroe, why were you really up here yesterday?’
Jessie’s head had been bowed all this time while he had considered her responses thus far. She surprised him when she took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eye. ‘I … I received word from my cousin in Edinburgh. She is married to a tea merchant and has three young children with another on the way. She has been unwell of late and has asked me to stay with her to help with the children. Simon was unhappy that I was leaving … in fact, he didna want me to go at all, but I have to … So I decided to travel to Grantown-on-Spey to catch the public coach to Edinburgh. It leaves at noon tomorrow. Unfortunately I sprained my ankle … an’ you know the rest …’
Robert frowned. Most of what she said made sense. He could well imagine Simon being the possessive, jealous type; he would resent the fact that she was needed by someone else. But he still didn’t understand why she had chosen to travel to Grantown-on-Spey by such a circuitous route. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to go to Grantown via the road from Lochrose?’
‘Simon was angry tha’ I was going. I thought he might try to stop me, so Mrs MacMillan—you would remember her of course—suggested that I travel this way an’ spend a few nights at the hunting lodge instead of at the Strathspey Inn where Simon would be sure to look. She didna think Simon would think to search here straightaway, if at all.’
Robert smiled inwardly. Mrs MacMillan, always the mother. He was glad she was still there to look out for others as she’d looked out for him. He would make sure Tobias had a careful word with her when he paid the castle a visit later today, to see if she could corroborate Jessie’s version of events. And even though he had been reluctant to seek assistance from others, Mrs MacMillan might even help him reunite with his father. He was rapidly realising that as much as he wanted to gain entry to Lochrose all by himself—he didn’t want to place anyone at risk on his behalf—it was becoming an increasingly difficult prospect.
But right now, they must get moving. Despite what Mrs MacMillan thought about the unlikelihood of Simon searching for Jessie up here, he knew his brother and how single-minded he could be. If Simon wanted the girl—and that was undoubtedly the case if the kiss he’d witnessed was anything to go by—his brother would leave no stone unturned until he found her.
Robert shook his head. ‘I don’t agree. Simon may very well look for you up here, particularly now that the weather has cleared up. We must leave immediately.’ He straightened, preparing to check on the horses, but Jessie reached out and grasped his hand, staying him. Her slender, elegant fingers were pale against his tanned skin. It wounded him again that this woman was not his.
‘Will you help me make the Edinburgh coach? I assure you, it isna my intention to expose you.’ Her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes were as clear as the water in the burn outside.
He considered her request for a moment. It puzzled him that she was still intent on leaving Lochrose, that sharing her newly found knowledge of his existence with Simon was not uppermost in her mind. Perhaps she was not a grasping, social climbing female who would see him as an obstacle to her ambition to become a countess.
‘I can’t make any promises,’ he replied, relishing the feel of her fingers as they clasped his. What a fool I am. ‘Surely you can understand that. I’m a wanted Jacobite, an enemy of the Crown. And at the moment, it’s vitally important that I’m not apprehended. I don’t wish to end up with my head on the chopping block or in the hangman’s noose just yet. Reconciling with my father is the only way that I’ll ever have the chance of gaining a pardon. So you’ll need to forgive me for not acceding to your wishes, given that your allegiance is with Simon. I’m sure you well know that there is no love lost between my brother and me.’
Jessie nodded, her expression grave, and released his hand. ‘I understand, Lord Lochrose.’
It hurt that she had decided to revert to his old title. But then, he also felt compelled to call her Miss Munroe. The budding camaraderie and teasing humour that had hovered between them at times was gone. An awkward silence extended and was not broken until the chink of bridles and the crunch of leaves heralded the arrival of Tobias with the horses.
Jess
ie’s gaze darted to the door. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere safe. That’s all you need to know.’ He helped Jessie to her feet and escorted her outside, before boosting her up to ride pillion with him again. Joining her in the saddle, he pulled her close—selfish brute that he was. That’s when he noticed that she was tense as a bowstring and was quite literally, quivering. ‘Dinna fash yerself now, lassie,’ he murmured against her hair, feeling like the worst kind of heel. Despite all that Jessie had revealed and the danger she posed, for some unfathomable reason, it was still important to him that she didn’t fear him.
His comment seemed to work; she grasped his forearm and her body relaxed into him a little. Grinning like the idiot he undoubtedly was, he flicked the reins and then they were off—across the burn and through the trees, cantering toward the upland heath and craggy mountain glens where Simon didn’t have a hope in Hades of finding them.
* * *
It was early afternoon when Simon and four men from the local regiment of the Black Watch cantered across the rough moorland toward his father’s old hunting lodge. All morning he had been searching with them. All fucking morning.
He had been as far afield as Grantown-on-Spey and had questioned the staff at the Strathspey Inn himself, but to no avail. He’d even ordered some of the local crofters’ huts in and around Kilburn to be searched. Despite his threats of violence, everyone denied having seen Miss Jessie Munroe. Simon had been about to have the innkeeper from the hovel that passed for an inn at Kilburn flogged when MacTaggart, the Captain of the Watch, quietly suggested looking at the hunting lodge instead.
It had not occurred to Simon to search up here, and although he was kicking himself for stupidly overlooking this location, his anticipation sharpened as they drew closer to the small copse where the lodge was hidden. God, how he hated the place. He had only been to the hunting lodge once before, when he was a youth of fourteen. His father and Robert had taken him deer stalking and he’d loathed every moment of it, crawling around in the boggy undergrowth, swatting at midges and getting scraped and covered in mud. And to make matters worse he’d come down with a terrible ague that had left him bedridden for several weeks afterwards.
The Master Of Strathburn Page 10