The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Tara Kingston

  “But your duty…your mission? What of that?”

  “To hell with the mission. Any number of us could get their hands on the wretched stone before Cranston. I came here because of you. Because of the bairn. I gave ye my word and I intend to keep it.”

  Her cheeks paled to the color of chalk, as though the blood had coursed from her head to her toes. “And if I’m fool enough to believe you?”

  He caught her hands in his. “Ye’ll trust me to do what I’ve trained to do my entire life. Ye’ll deprive Cranston of yet another weapon to use against us. Ye’ll stay where ye’re safe and be ready to greet the wee lass after I retrieve her.”

  She squeezed his hands, as if to release a swell of tension. He saw the answer in her eyes, the steadfast refusal to see the reason of his words.

  “I cannot. You already know that. And you know why.”

  “Surely ye understand—if Cranston gets ye under his control, he will have cornered the queen. Before long, he’ll have his checkmate.”

  Johanna’s eyes glistened. She blinked hard, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Even if I have faith in you, that’s not enough. I cannot forsake that child. I’ve already done enough harm, letting her leave London with her blackguard of a father. I did not even raise a protest. In my heart, I knew her father’s behavior was highly out of character. But I didn’t question him. Didn’t try to dissuade him.”

  “Lass, ye cannae put this weight on yer shoulders.”

  “Ah, but I have. I will regret my silence to my dying breath. I might have convinced Mr. Abbott it was not in Laurel’s best interests.” She sighed, a deep, anguished sound. “But I did nothing. Said nothing. ‘Not my place,’ I told myself. How very wrong I was.”

  “Ye cannae be of help to the girl if ye allow yerself to be vulnerable. And I…I cannae abide the thought of harm coming to ye.”

  She blinked, and her eyes went wide. “You cannot abide…? You are not my protector.”

  “After what’s gone between us—”

  “Gone between us?” Her hands slipped out of his, and she folded her arms over her chest as if putting up a shield. “And what precisely has gone between us? You took me to bed. We shared a few hours of pleasure. Nothing more. No words of love. No promises. No future. Simply two humans succumbing to temptation.”

  Her words struck like a bare-knuckle blow to the gut. She was a tough one, all right. Nothing but steel beneath that soft, creamy flesh.

  “God’s teeth, Johanna, ye might use that line in one of yer books.”

  “Perhaps I shall.”

  Her mouth curved. Not a smile. Rather, a look of regret. Did she rue ever touching him, ever sharing his breaths and merging their heartbeats? God above, he’d been an idiot. After all the women he’d bedded in his life, he’d gone and lost his head over this one. But Johanna had provided the remedy for that, hadn’t she?

  “Be sure to include the line about the knight and the dragon. Classic, that bit of dialogue.”

  She offered a small nod, as if it pained her to even acknowledge him. “There’s no point pretending what happened last night was anything more than a brief, albeit lovely, indiscretion. I am not an ingénue. Nor am I some skittish virgin grieving her maidenhood. We shared something beautiful, something quite remarkable, really. But sadly, it changes nothing.”

  “Bluidy hell it doesn’t. It changes everything.”

  She slowly shook her head. “Is that why you led me to believe you would convey me to Cranston when you have no intention of doing so? Because everything is different? Because one night of carnal passion changed the bond between us? Which are the pretty lies? And what is the truth? I want to believe you. Heaven only knows I do. If things were different…perhaps, just maybe, I’d tell myself what happened last night was more than a mere tumble between the sheets. I’d tell myself we were brought together by fate. Meant to be, as they say. But I cannot afford that beautiful fantasy. Not now.”

  “I won’t lead ye into a trap. Ye won’t save the bairn by sacrificing yerself.”

  Johanna squared her shoulders. “I have no intention of sacrificing myself. I don’t deny the possibility exists that events may take…an unfortunate turn. But as I see it, I’ve little choice. You, on the other hand, have the option to walk away. I never meant to drag you into this horrid situation. I never wanted you to put yourself in danger. You charged in to rescue the damsel you believed to be in distress, and in the process, you’ve mired both of us in a considerable quagmire.”

  “I willnae leave ye, Johanna.”

  Again, she shook her head, the gesture so subtle, he wondered if she’d even been conscious of the movement. “You will. In time. Even if we’re together when we deliver the ransom, in time, you will walk away.”

  Something in her tone pierced him to the core. The lass had so little faith. In his character. In his word as a man. In him.

  Silent and pensive, she seemed to study him. Damnation, why couldn’t she be like the others who’d shared his bed? Why did this woman, above all others, drive him to the brink of a madness of his own creation? Why did he even give a piper’s damn if she believed in him? He’d shielded her from men who’d use her beauty until there was nothing left to take. He’d stuck out his own neck to protect her. Even now, he could take the book and go after the stone on his own, leaving her adrift. Why did the look in those beautiful eyes—blue as sapphires—warm his soul at times and wield a punch to the gut at others? How had she made him question so much?

  In truth, he could not fault her lack of trust. Though he’d protected her from ruffians, he’d offered no reason to believe he hadn’t acted out of his own interests. He knew well enough how to seduce a lass. But he’d never uttered the words that might soothe the doubts that nettled her, the tender affirmations that spoke of her place at his side, of the way she nourished his soul.

  “After this is over, you’ll go to Dunnhaven,” she went on. “I will return to London. And from there, to my home in Philadelphia. In time, Laurel will love the city. I will have memories of you. Some sweet. Some passionate. Some infuriating. Perhaps, you will experience the same. But there will be nothing more…no bond that’s meant to endure.”

  He met her gaze and found his voice. “Ye’ve no faith in me, lass. That’s a bluidy shame.”

  Another tear escaped her shuttered lashes. A small shudder quaked her shoulders. “If I harbored no trust in you, I would never have put myself in this position. But that’s not enough. I must do whatever it takes to save my niece. Nothing you say will change that.”

  He heard the hard truth in her words. Saw the unwavering set of her chin and the glint in her eyes. There’d be no dissuading Johanna from a path that might well lead to her death. Blast it, the lass was hardheaded. Just as mule-stubborn as himself. But he couldn’t abandon her. No matter the cost.

  Johanna was proud. Firm in her resolve. Courageous. She knew the danger she faced. He could see it in her eyes. A flicker of apprehension cooled those beautiful indigo irises. But she only squared her shoulders and met her fear head on.

  How could he do any less?

  “Verrae well, then,” he said, ignoring the voice in his head bellowing that he was a damned fool. “I’ll see ye to the devil.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Johanna paced the inn’s small carriage house, tension filling her every cell as Connor and Gerard mapped out the logistics of their scheme. The brothers hashed through their strategy with the attention to detail of men well accustomed to covert planning. If only Johanna’s limbs did not quake ever so slightly while her pulse thudded in her ears. Soon, this nightmare would be over, she reassured herself. Laurel would be safe, and life would return to normal.

  Without danger. Without passion.

  Without Connor.

  Devil take it, the very thought of an existence bereft of the sweetness of his kiss and the wickedness of his touch sent her stomach plummeting. The challenge in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. Especially now th
at she’d known the incomparable bliss to be found in his ardent desire.

  This longing was a temporary madness. Nothing more. After she returned to London, she’d make arrangements to sail to Philadelphia and move along smartly, without a stubborn, arrogant warrior of a man to distract her from her pursuits. She’d left behind a novel half-completed in London. The voyage home would provide healing time to resume that manuscript. Perhaps she’d even finish the draft before she arrived in America. Once there, she’d find a skilled tutor to nurture Laurel’s precocious abilities, or better yet, a school where the child might develop friendships.

  And Johanna would get on with her life.

  Soon, this time in the Highlands would be a mere recollection, both bitter and glorious. A single chapter in her life, marked by danger and fear, and, ultimately, she hoped, triumph. Of course, she’d have the luscious memory of making love with Connor. He would always be a part of her heart. Nothing and no one could change that. Not even him.

  Swallowing against the emotion that seared her throat, she moved to stand at Gerard’s side. He still affected the look of an elderly traveler. He’d done a fine job of applying just enough powder and shadowed coloring to simulate the look of a man decades older, and his clothing was cut loose, camouflaging his well-muscled shoulders and arms. Still, the taut, caged energy of his movements struck Johanna as wildly incongruous with his artificially lined face and whitened hair. Once they were on their way, he would alter his manner to fit the visage, adding to the effectiveness of his disguise.

  Posing as a carriage driver, Gerard would escort Johanna to Cranston’s castle near Loch Ness. His presence would be readily justified. After all, a lady would not gallop up on horseback, nor did she possess a carriage for transport. A hired hack would be a necessity. With any luck, a necessity that would not be questioned.

  Connor would trail them, but none too closely. They couldn’t chance him being spotted with Johanna. The brash Scot was well-known to Cranston. Indeed, he had a history of meddling in the collector’s endeavors. The thugs in Cranston’s employ had been afforded ample opportunity to learn his face. Ross and Munro were still out there, no doubt awaiting their chance to avenge themselves after the blood-stained encounter at the tavern that first night. Any sign of Connor would leave the rescue in shreds.

  Saying little beyond what was necessary to prepare for the venture, the brothers took stock of their weapons. Connor selected a pistol, a long gun, and a lethal-looking dagger he tucked in his boot. Gerard stored a rifle within easy reach of the driver’s bench and holstered two pistols beneath his greatcoat. After stashing a dirk in his boot, he handed Johanna a small sgian dubh and a sheath to tether the blade to her calf.

  As she secured the knife, a woman’s voice startled her. Brenna McKittrick. Good heavens, this was not the time for the innkeeper to come upon them. Johanna stilled. Slowly, she turned, expecting a look of shock on the innkeeper’s face. She saw nothing of the sort. Rather, Brenna had thinned her mouth to a slash and planted her hands on her hips.

  Gerard shot her a look that bore no trace of surprise. His eyes narrowed as his full mouth curled at one corner. “I dinnae ken this was tea time. Ye forgot to bring the biscuits.”

  “I thought ye might be in need of my expertise, ye daft ox.”

  Brenna tugged at Johanna’s skirt, exposing the dagger. “That’s not going to be of much use t’the lass,” she said with an air of authority. “By the time she gets t’the blade under all those skirts, she’ll have little use for it.”

  “Bluidy shame I dinnae carry an arsenal of ladies’ weaponry.”

  “I know a thing or two about these matters.” Brenna flashed a sly smile Johanna’s way. “I’ve just the thing for ye, dear.”

  “Just the thing?” Johanna repeated.

  “Ye’ll like it. ’Tis perfect for a lass who needs a ready defense.” Brenna’s hint of a grin broadened. “I know why ye’re here.”

  “Ye’ve always been an ally we could trust,” Connor said as he loaded the chambers on a revolver.

  “This man saved my life. Saved my beloved Finn. We share a common goal, but there’s more than that. The MacMasters men, well, they’re stout-hearted as they come. As loyal to our cause as you’ll find.”

  “Your cause?” Johanna digested the words. “You…and the MacMasters…”

  Something odd flashed through Brenna’s eyes. She hesitated a heartbeat, as though she wondered if she’d said too much. “Our bonds go back for years…for centuries—”

  “Enough of the malarkey, lass.” Gerard turned to Brenna. He’d pulled the bottom off a hollow cane and stored ammunition in the prop. “Give the lass whatever gadget ye’ve got for her. We need to be moving along.”

  Brenna pressed a brooch into Johanna’s hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed.” Johanna studied the ornament. Delicate silver filigree bordered a deep red, princess-cut stone. Quite lovely. She met Brenna’s eager gaze. “Am I to understand this is a weapon?”

  “Of course. Fancy jewels won’t bring naught but trouble, but a good blade…well, that’s something to treasure.” Brenna took the pin between her fingers. “Ye see this little heart on the side, scrolled in silver.”

  Johanna nodded. “A latch, I presume.”

  “Aye.” Brenna flicked a rounded nail against the design. A slender blade the length of her finger sprung from the jewel. “Honed fine as a razor. Sharper than the devil’s tongue.”

  Good heavens, the brooch was the stuff of intrigue. Johanna watched as Brenna retracted the blade with another touch against the latch. “Most impressive.”

  “’Tis a fine weapon. Ye can kill a man before he even knows what ye’ve done.”

  Kill a man. Thorny vines coiled around Johanna’s middle. Tightening. Squeezing. Robbing her of breath. Could she actually plunge the devious piece into a living, breathing body? Would she be able to muster the will to take a life, much less in such a brutal way?

  Brenna’s expression softened as she pinned the jewel to the lapel of Johanna’s traveling jacket. Did she sense the conflict tearing at Johanna?

  “With these strapping men at yer side, ye’re most likely not goin’ to need it.” Brenna offered a smile even as her eyes hardened. “But if ye’re forced to use the blade, dinnae think twice. Aim for the throat.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” Johanna managed.

  “Of course, ye’ll need to buy time to remove the pin. This will help.” Brenna slipped a hair comb from her upswept mane and handed it to Johanna.

  Johanna studied the intricately wrought accessory. Tiny painted roses climbed a carved trellis adorning the comb’s long, ivory teeth. “I don’t understand—”

  Brenna tapped a finger against the carvings. “Be verrae careful when ye place this in yer hair. The teeth are sharp as stilettos. With a bit of force, they’ll puncture a man’s chest. Not deep enough to kill. But the pain will disable him long enough to free the brooch and finish the job.”

  The thorns around Johanna’s chest dug deeper. How would she ever employ such a brutal implement? But she might not have a choice. Somehow, she’d find the courage.

  Johanna touched a fingertip to the blunt end of the comb. “Thank you.”

  Brenna flashed a knowing gaze. “Ye’re a brave lass. Ye’ll get through this. And ye’ve got two of the best men I know at yer side.”

  “We’ll get the bairn, Johanna,” Gerard spoke up, his voice quiet and calm. For his part, Connor held his silence, observing the discussion with a peculiar sense of detachment.

  “We will indeed,” Johanna agreed. She had to believe they would succeed. There simply was no alternative.

  Connor gave a nod in affirmation as he holstered his weapons. “That’s better, lass. Doubt makes ye weak. There’s no room for that here. Not with what we’re facing.”

  Johanna knew he was right. But agreeing with his words and ridding her gut of sickening fear were two entirely different matters.

 
“We will find her,” Johanna said. “And then, we’ll both have what we want.”

  Emotion flashed over Connor’s features. No trace of arrogance there. Rather, a fleeting sliver of regret set his mouth into a harsh, unyielding line. Shuttering his gaze, he turned back to the task of preparing his weapons.

  “Aye. That we will.”

  If only the grimness in his eyes did not pose the bitterest of contradictions.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Both of ye louts, watch over Johanna,” Brenna said, the tiniest of tremors marking her voice.

  Johanna watched a wry smile tug at Connor’s mouth. “With the weaponry ye’ve provided her, we’re the ones who might need watching over. Ye know the lass possesses a fiery nature.”

  Something in the way Connor spoke the words sounded suspiciously like affection. Judging from the glimmer in Brenna’s eyes, she’d also caught the undertone in the Scot’s gruff words.

  Heat crept over Johanna’s cheeks. “I doubt the comb could pierce that thick hide of yours.”

  “No better than that sharp tongue of yers.”

  Strange, how his gravel-edged retort warmed her. If she’d met Connor under different circumstances, would they have forged a bond beyond a single night of passion? Would she be spending her nights in his oak-hewn arms, savoring his heat, and his power, and his tenderness?

  She banished the questions to a dusty corner of her thoughts. After this ugly business was done—after Laurel was safely in her arms—Connor would return to his duty, and she would savor peace in a haven of her own making.

  “Are ye ready, lass?” Connor’s tone had lost its brash edge. Was that concern darkening his somber gaze?

  “Yes.” With a quick hug for luck from Brenna, Johanna joined the men. Soon, this harrowing chapter of her life would be at an end. Pity she’d already lost a piece of her heart to the bold Highlander.

  …

  Seated on the driver’s bench of the carriage, Johanna took in the majesty of the Highlands. Mountains towered over the landscape, over grass as green and lush as any she’d ever seen. Geese flying in perfect formation squawked overhead. The sun hung low in the sky, its rays gleaming against the crystal clear water of Loch Ness. Such a lovely scene. Not at all what she’d expected for the resting place of a stone reputed to carry a dark, dangerous power.