‘What about my hair?’
‘It’s grown in the time we’ve been apart.’
‘Yes.’
‘You look...’
‘Yes?’
‘Very feminine and very lovely, Henrietta.’
He smiled and his eyes at last fluttered closed. She sat with him and watched him sleep.
* * *
The hammering on the door was urgent. With a glance at her uncle, Henrietta put down her sewing and went to open it. A tall man stood there. His boots were muddy and his clothes wet with rain.
‘Yes?’ she asked.
‘I beg your pardon, miss, but I am Captain Garnet of His Royal Highness’s Dragoons.’
‘Dragoons!’ Henrietta said, feigning surprise. Fortunately her uncle had seen the Redcoats on the moor and had had time to warn Simon. They’d left him in darkness and gone to the house to wait.
‘Yes, miss,’ the captain said politely.
‘Whatever do you want? Are there others with you?’ she asked.
‘Yes. My men are waiting.’
‘Waiting?’
‘We’re looking for escaping Jacobites—those who left the field after Culloden. We believe some have come this way.’
‘Jacobites!’ she exclaimed.
‘There are no Jacobites in this house,’ Matthew said, coming to stand beside his niece. ‘I am Matthew Brody, Captain, a loyal subject of King George, and this young lady is my niece. We have seen the odd rebel on the moor, but I assure you there is none in this house.’
The captain nodded. It was not unknown to him that Matthew Brody was a Glaswegian—a learned man and something of an eccentric with a strong dislike of all Jacobites. In the main he had been left alone, but many crofters with Jacobite sympathies were not so lucky. Their homes had been burned in the search of the rebels.
‘That may be, sir, but we are ordered to search all households where we believe a rebel might hide. I must therefore demand that my men be allowed to enter and search this house.’
Henrietta’s mind raced. If they refused, the captain would be suspicious. Worse, they could force their way in and destroy her uncle’s home as they searched. For a moment she panicked, thinking that the Dragoons might suspect something, might know that they were harbouring a rebel. But had they not prepared for this very situation? They had no choice. The ruse would have to be tested.
‘Very well, Captain. Tell your men to come in.’ She stepped back. ‘But please have them wipe their feet first.’
‘Yes, miss.’ The man smiled at her and touched his hand to the brim of his black hat. She looked at her uncle, who nodded encouragingly. They waited for the captain’s troops to enter.
Henrietta stood aside, outwardly calm as the men came through the door. The cottage was small so it did not take them long to search the few downstairs rooms. As they mounted the narrow stairs to her small chamber, it seemed to Henrietta that she had stopped breathing. Even though she knew there was nothing to be found, the tightness increased in her chest.
When the troops came down, shaking their heads, the captain looked at Matthew. ‘Are there any other rooms here?’
‘No, Captain. There is a stable and storehouse attached to the house—a couple of mounts, that is all.’
‘We’ll take a look before we leave.’ Once he was satisfied that no rebels hid in the outside buildings, he returned to the house. ‘I do not think we need tarry any longer, sir. Just a word of advice before we go. Keep an eye on those horses. They might attract unwanted attention from scavenging rebels. I am sorry we have inconvenienced you.’
‘Not at all, Captain. You are doing what you have to do.’
Matthew went out to see them on their way.
* * *
To make quite sure they were not under surveillance, it was another hour before Henrietta returned to the cave to change Simon’s dressing.
‘They’ve gone,’ she told him as she lit the lamp. ‘They didn’t suspect a thing. Hopefully they won’t come back. I’ll change your bandages and then you can eat. You must be hungry.’
He was propped up against the pillows, a worried frown on his brow. A week had gone by since he’d arrived at the cottage and, though his wound still pained him and his body was weak, he was a little improved—although it would be some time before he was strong enough to embark on the long and perilous trek west.
After seeing to his dressing, Henrietta sat and began spooning the nourishing broth into his mouth. He could probably feed himself, but his hands still trembled and he was likely to spill more than he ate. He studied her as she fed him. She was so lovely. With such a soft, kissable mouth. He remembered that night in Edinburgh—so long ago now, it seemed, and for the first time since he’d been injured he felt the stirrings of passion.
His eyes glowed with warmth as he gazed at her. ‘You spoil me, Henrietta.’
Her lips curved upwards in a gentle smile. ‘Is it not gratifying to be spoiled once in a while?’
‘Your very presence spoils me to distraction,’ he replied with sudden candour. His eyes swept boldly down the line of her bosom, respectably concealed by a plain blue woollen dress. As if she sensed his less-than-pious thoughts, her hand jerked, spilling the liquid on to him.
‘Please forgive me,’ she said, distress showing on her face as she dabbed at the stain. ‘I hope I have not burned you.’
‘It was nothing,’ he replied, unable to keep his eyes from her face.
‘I am sorry—’ she began.
‘Henrietta,’ he said, setting the bowl aside and taking her hand in his. Her eyes, so large and startled, widened. ‘Please. It is nothing. I assure you.’
‘Very well.’ For a moment she did nothing, then she looked deliberately at his hand. Gently his fingers relaxed and she withdrew hers.
His meal was completed in silence. She rose to leave.
‘Don’t go,’ Simon said in a soft voice. ‘Could you not stay and talk to me? My world,’ he said, gesturing the cave with one hand, ‘is severely limited.’ He watched as several emotions warred on her lovely face.
‘I apologise for neglecting you as I have.’ She looked at him then, an honest and pained expression in her green eyes.
Simon could find nothing to say to this pronouncement, so he continued watching her. He wondered why she seemed so cool to him, so reserved. What had he done? It was as though they had never shared moments of intimacy. He felt an intruder—an intruder into what? Her life? Her heart? There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he could not find the words to express his feelings properly.
‘I want to say thank you for taking me in and saving my life in the face of so much danger to yourself. It is a great risk you and your uncle take letting me remain.’
For a moment he sensed a softening in her attitude and then the mask was back in place once more.
‘You are most welcome, Simon.’
At length, he said in a low voice, ‘I have missed you.’
‘Have you?’ she asked, her tone a little aloof.
‘I thought you enjoyed my company—if what happened between us in Edinburgh and again on the moor is to be remembered.’
‘That is past,’ she murmured, lowering her gaze.
‘And you are sure about that, are you, Henrietta? What is it?’ he asked gently.
She started at his question as if it burned. Silence deepened between them—then she looked at him, meeting his eyes watching her intently. ‘I thought you had been killed at Culloden.’ She paused. ‘I did not expect to see you again.’
He ached to hold her, to reassure her. But how could he, when he did not know what tomorrow would bring? ‘I am sorry if I’ve caused you pain. Do you believe me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your eyes are red. Have you been cryi
ng, Henrietta? Why?’
‘I cried for us,’ she answered simply. ‘For what could have been, but will never be.’
Simon felt a constriction in his throat.
She rose to her feet, picking up the empty bowl. ‘I shall come to you later—perhaps you would like me to read to you.’
‘I want...’ he began to say, then stopped.
‘Yes?’
He wanted to say that he desired her to stay longer. She seemed so different, so formal now, not the woman he had loved in Edinburgh. What had happened to her since then? Did she now hate him? He had known many reluctant virgins, who grew quite heated with the flaming of their passions and then chilled afterwards, as if they had almost forgotten their appetites. But Henrietta wasn’t one of these women. This was no unwilling maiden, who had kissed and given herself to him with such fervour, with such abandonment.
Reluctantly he agreed that she was right to keep him at arm’s length. Soon he would have to leave her. The longer he stayed, the harder it was going to be when the time came. It was not going to be easy making his way to the Western Isles, but keeping Henrietta and her uncle free from suspicion was worth the added risk. Any further searches by the Dragoons might not prove so lucky the next time.
‘We’ve been parted a long time, Henrietta. Did you ever think of me?’ he asked on a change of subject.
‘Yes, of course I did. Sometimes.’
He lifted a brow. ‘Only sometimes?’ His voice was marked with humour.
‘Every week.’
‘That’s brutally honest, but not very flattering. Only once a week?’
The intensity of his gaze ploughed through her composure. ‘Did I say only once a week?’ She could not resist teasing, relieved to feel the tension easing between them.
‘Twice a week?’
‘Maybe, but I’ll not pander to your ego. It’s already overinflated.’
He grinned, satisfied. ‘Still the same old Henrietta, giving nothing away.’
She smiled back at him. ‘I can’t afford to—not where you are concerned, my lord.’
When she turned to leave he reached out and caught her hand. ‘Come back if you have the time.’
‘I will. I promise.’
* * *
Having discovered a sensuality within herself that she had been ignorant of before Simon had awakened it, Henrietta found it difficult to keep her thoughts well aligned to that which a virtuous young woman might ponder. Her sudden propensity for wayward thoughts became even more apparent when she was with him. His very presence evoked an unfamiliar tumult within her, making her fearful of what he might discern if he looked into her flushed face or took note of her trembling fingers as she tended his wound.
Even though she focused all her concentration on her task, her eyes were wont to covertly caress the manly torso, and it shocked her unduly when she found herself closely eyeing the sheets that settled softly over his loins. The torpid fullness led her mind swiftly astray to visions of his long, nude body glistening with droplets of sweat after he had made love to her in Edinburgh. The kindling warmth that swept through her in ever-strengthening surges affected her until she became a bit ambiguous about her own reserve.
Glancing at him now, the trace of an amused smile on his lips told her he was obviously much better than on the previous day, and there was a hunger in his eyes that had nothing to do with putting food in his stomach. It triggered a quickness in her heartbeat, one she strived hard to hide with a scolding.
‘If you wish me to attend you, Simon, I insist that you exercise a finer degree of self-control.’
Unmoved by her gentle chiding, he plucked at the bandage. ‘I am surprised you have a stomach for this.’
Henrietta seated herself on the edge of the bed, facing him. ‘I’m not squeamish, if that’s what you think. Besides, the wound is looking much healthier.’ A rueful smile brought up the corners of her lips. ‘However, I should warn you to hold yourself still, or I might be tempted to remove some portion of your hide as recompense.’
‘I am yours to command.’ He spread his arms, completely surrendering himself to her ministering, and let his hand fall casually upon her knee as she leaned forward and began to snip at the bandage that criss-crossed his shoulder and chest. She paused and purposefully lifted his hand by the wrist, moving it to where it could rest harmlessly on the covers.
‘I will not stand your tomfoolery either, Simon,’ she admonished.
A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. ‘You’re being terribly formal, my love. Have you grown averse to me all of a sudden?’
‘I wish to change your dressing as quickly as possible and I have no wish to encourage you in your blatant disregard of my status as an unmarried woman, that is all,’ she explained pertly.
‘Do you think denying what is between us will stop me from wanting you?’ he asked as his eyes caressed her. ‘You know very little about me if you think mere words can quench what I feel for you. It is no simple lust that torments me, Henrietta, but a desire to have you with me every moment, to feel your softness close to me and to claim you as my own.’
Henrietta stared at him in speechless wonder. His words were but a ploy to break down the barriers she had erected between them. Still, they were effective in bringing to mind a similar awareness of her own desires. Being with him day after day had made her acutely aware of how deeply she felt about him. He was there when she closed her eyes, haunting her with his presence, and she yearned to have him hold her and kiss her without restrictions. But no matter how hard he tried to lure her into his arms, into his bed, she would not lower the barriers she had erected between them.
His gaze met hers without wavering, promising more than she, in good conscience, could accept. Her hands trembled as she focused her attention on changing his bandages. Though she worked diligently and with care, she was aware that all the prodding and pulling must be painful for him, yet he never twitched a muscle, and when she glanced at his face, there was always that odd, inscrutable gaze that seemed to probe her inner mind and an enigmatic smile playing upon his lips.
When she began wrapping the clean bandages around his muscular chest, in the next instant his hand rose and pulled her close, capturing her lips with his own. Off balance, she could not immediately withdraw and was held snared by a fevered kiss that scorched her cool-minded resolve to resist him. His mouth moved slowly over hers with a hunger that greedily sought for a like response. A rush of excitement flared through her and the need was there to answer him, but the sudden intrusion of who he was and how she had vowed never to become involved with a Jacobite—especially one who was being hunted as a traitor—made her push away with a sudden gasp. She stood up, her cheeks ablaze with shame of her own ardour.
‘Please don’t do this, Simon. You take too many liberties in my uncle’s house. You will destroy yourself and me and my uncle along with you if you continue to indulge in such foolery.’ Her rebuke only seemed to amuse him, for his grin deepened, making her doubt that she would ever be effective in discouraging his amorous tendencies. Regaining some measure of control, she collected the soiled bandages and placed them in the bowl at the side of the bed. ‘I’ve finished dressing your wound. It looks healthy and improves all the time. I will go and get you something to eat and then you can settle down for the night.’
Without waiting for him to reply she left him then, a gnawing disquiet descending on her. She was disturbed by his presence, yet she could hardly order him to go. He was wounded, his wound still in need of attention. Yet she did not know how much longer she could tolerate being near him. He was a constant reminder of what she had done, what they had done together, when she had failed to hold her passions in check, carelessly forgetting the future.
Her stay with her uncle had made her more aware of how far she had strayed. She was an unmarried woman of respectab
le birth, and what she had done—done in a night of abandon and again on the moor—could not bear repeating.
* * *
The day finally came when Simon could get out of bed. He was weak and unsteady as he began to move slowly about. Matthew would come in the morning, carefully help him to his feet and then let him shuffle unassisted around the narrow confines of the cave. The first day the pain in his chest and back proved so fierce, he almost passed out, and would have pitched forward had Matthew not been there to grab his arm.
With each passing day his strength returned, though he tired easily and would return to bed and fall asleep, unmindful of the aches the punishing exercises had awakened in his body.
Finally he began to bathe and dress himself, a most notable triumph, he thought wryly when he was at last allowed into the house and he eased himself into the bathtub. With English patrols never far away, he never left the cave until Matthew came to tell him it was safe. Then he would slip like a shadow from his rocky home and come to the house. Now Moira did not come to the cottage, Matthew had taken the cart into Inverness for news and provisions.
As he splashed water over his body and vigorously soaped his limbs, he felt the days of being confined disappear. At that very moment, he was free of his injured body, his heavy spirits, and he was coming alive once more, shedding the lethargy that had encased his limbs since he’d been shot.
As the water began cooling, he carefully eased himself out of the tub and began drying himself with a large bath sheet. At that moment the door opened and Henrietta entered. In her arms she held a basket of linens she had hung out to dry earlier.
Her eyes widened when she saw him and the breath caught in her throat. His body was as lean as ever, his shoulders just as wide, his hips just as narrow. In all he was a splendid specimen of a man. Few men could lay claim to such an exceptional physique. She felt her own body glowing with sensual warmth as her eyes fed upon his nakedness. The sights were there for the taking and she devoured them. Raising her eyes to his face, she saw a wicked, knowing smile quirk his lips. Embarrassed to be caught looking, colour flooded her cheeks and she became flustered.
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