“You didn’t betray me,” he said.
“No,” she murmured.
“Why?” He stepped from the tub, peeled off his coat, and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping them in a soaking heap on the floor. The mask he left in place, though the wet leather chafed against his skin.
Her gaze dropped from his and followed the line of his naked chest. The water ran in rivulets down the hard planes of his stomach. He grabbed the cloth she was going to use to dry herself after her bath and rubbed it across his skin and hair. Her eyes followed each movement. She bit her lip, her breath growing shallow. He took his time drying off. The heat in her eyes as she watched sparked an answering desire in him.
She glanced up and caught him watching. He smiled and her cheeks flamed bright red and she hastily looked away.
“Why?” he asked again.
She straightened, jutting her pert little chin into the air. “Betraying you wouldn’t have helped me much.”
“They would have taken ye home.”
“You’ve said you’ll take me. I believe you, and I’m not in any particular hurry.”
Her words meant more to him than he expected. “Ye believe me?”
She clenched her jaw. “I won’t pretend to understand everything that is going on. But whatever claims of your evil deeds may exist, you’ve not harmed me. You’ve actually gone to great lengths to see to my comfort. As far as I know, you haven’t lied to me. Even when you must have known your words would cause me pain.”
He almost flinched from the accusation in her eyes. But he would stand by his plan. Fergus must fall. And so would Dawsey.
“You promised to protect me,” she said. “And you have. So yes. I believe you.”
Her beauty, standing there in the candlelight, stole the very air from his lungs. In his whole life, he didn’t know if anyone had had as much faith in him as she did. He came toward her, and she sucked in a breath when he reached out and brushed her hair from her face.
“Ye’re trembling,” he said. His fingers lingered on her cheek. He stood so close hardly a breath of space separated them. Heat rolled through him in waves, though he’d spent several minutes submerged in a cold bath. The creamy white of her exposed skin, where the blanket had slipped, flushed pink.
“I’m…” She looked up into his eyes. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and she shivered. “I’m…cold.”
He glanced down and grasped the quilt, pulling it more tightly against her. “So am I,” he said, surprising a laugh from her.
“Come.” He took her hand and led her closer to the fire. She sat on the bed while he stoked the flames. “I need to change out of the rest of these wet clothes,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open, and she turned around on the bed. He laughed and bent to tug his sodden boots from his feet. He finished peeling off the rest of his wet clothing and reached into the armoire for dry clothes. Though he stood with his back to her, her gaze burned into him. The thought of her watching him while he dressed stirred his blood, inflaming a passion he’d have difficulty containing if he let himself lose control.
Still, he couldn’t resist playing a little. If she wanted to watch, he’d give her something worthwhile to see. Though he’d keep his back to her so she couldn’t see how much her sitting naked beneath that quilt, watching him dress, affected him.
He pulled on a dry shirt, letting the muscles of his back bunch and stretch as he lifted his arms to let the fabric slide over his body. He made sure the material fell slowly, past his back, over his waist, and finally over his buttocks. A quick intake of breath from the direction of the bed rewarded him for his ministrations. The thought of her sinking her nails into his backside while he moved over her hardened him to the point of pain, and he had the sudden urge to see exactly how she’d react to the knowledge of what she did to him.
He grabbed a pair of breeches, letting his shirt bunch up as he hiked them over his hips, and turned, letting her see him. All of him. She gasped and quickly resumed her perusal of the opposite wall. His chuckle had her cheeks burning so hotly her eyes must certainly be watering.
He sat beside her, the bed sinking beneath his weight. “If you’d like a closer look, I’d be happy to oblige.”
Elizabet’s breathing sped, causing her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. He didn’t know what had made him offer. Even if she desired him as he did her, and by the heat in her eyes he knew she did, nothing good could come of it. He couldn’t keep her. And he wouldn’t take her maidenhead and send her back to her family, no longer a virgin and unwed. She would be ruined. He had no qualms about ruining her father. The man was corrupt, cruel, and most likely a traitor. But Elizabet was not her father. And John had no desire to harm her, in any way.
Before he could move away she bit her lip and raised her hand. His forehead creased in a frown, but he didn’t move away as she tentatively touched him, brushing her hand along his jaw. She ran her finger along his lower lip as he’d done to her. He sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound seemed to ignite something within her. She leaned toward him.
This needed to stop. Allowing it to continue would be sheer madness. He was a highwayman, an outlaw with a price on his head. A man, not her husband, whose face she’d never even seen.
And she didn’t seem to care.
Just one kiss.
Her lips hovered over his, close enough the heat from her skin ignited the desire simmering beneath the surface of his.
Madness, it may be. But he couldn’t resist any longer.
He ran his hand through her hair, lightly grasping the nape of her neck to close the distance between them.
His lips touched hers, and she sank in to him. He pulled her close, keeping her captive in his arms while his heart thundered furiously in his chest. Her lips were sweet, soft. She yielded to him, following his lead with an eagerness that made his head swim. This woman embodied every lovely, intoxicating dream he’d ever had. He never wanted to wake.
She moaned, a soft sound that had him threading his fingers through her hair and nipping at her lip. She opened for him, and he delved inside. His body burned for her touch. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms about his neck. She plunged her fingers into his hair and held tight, which only spurred him on. But when she touched the bottom of the mask, he grabbed her hand and pulled away from her, shaking his head.
“No,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Why?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “Haven’t I proven that I can be trusted? That I’ll protect you? And your secret?”
The hurt in her voice cut him deep. But there was no help for it. “This is for yer protection, lass,” he said. “Ye canna be made to tell what ye dinna ken.”
Elizabet searched his eyes and finally nodded. “All right.” She sighed and dropped her hand. “As you wish.”
He reached up to cup her cheek. “What I wish is of no consequence. ’Tis how things must be.”
She nodded, swallowing as though a lump had formed in her throat. Her eyes looked suspiciously moist, and he regretted the pain he might be causing her. But it would save her greater pain later.
He sighed, bringing her closer so he could kiss her forehead.
“Come,” he said. “Lie down, mo maise.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, lying back as he’d asked.
He gave her a gentle smile. “My beauty.”
Her heart fluttered. “You find me beautiful?”
“Aye. So much it hurts me just to look at ye.”
“Jack,” she said, her voice faint.
“Get some rest, lass. It’s been a long night. And we’ll have to leave at sunrise.”
“What? Where are we going?”
He gently pushed her down on the bed and dragged the coverlets over her. “It’s far past the time I took ye back.”
“Jack…”
But he shook his head. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. Far more than I expected. But ye have to return.
Ye dinna belong in my world.”
She flinched at that and he tried again, gently stroking her face. “The soldiers might return. Ye’ve shot one of them. Even if ye didna kill him, that isna something they can allow.”
“And if they return for me, that means my presence is now a danger to you.”
“Aye. I suppose. But more importantly, ye’re in danger. I would fight for ye, Elizabet, until my dying breath. But even I canna win against so many.”
He caressed her cheek and leaned down to gently kiss her. “Rest. I’ll watch over ye tonight.”
She looked like she’d protest. He understood completely. He’d rather spend their last moments together finishing what they’d started. But that couldn’t happen. Too much had happened already. He ached for her. Both in body and soul. But playing with the fire they’d stoked would only end badly for them both.
John moved off the bed and sat in the chair by the fire, turning the clothes drying there. He noticed her chemise swimming in the cauldron and fished it out, laying it out to dry with his clothing. Elizabet rolled to her side and watched him until her eyes began to close.
He remained awake for hours, watching her, committing every breath she took to memory. He didn’t want to sleep, but they were as secure as he could make them, and weariness dragged at him. However, instead of retreating to the pallet on the floor as he’d done each night he’d shared a room with her, he climbed into the bed and lay beside her. His arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her close to his chest. For one night, he’d let himself hold her.
He pressed a soft kiss to her head, and she settled back against him with a contented sigh. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her. He would forever long for her touch. And crave the lips still pleasantly swollen from his kisses.
Perhaps someday. If things were different. Only he wouldn’t pull away when she touched his mask. He’d let her remove it.
And then he’d finish what they’d started.
Chapter Nine
Elizabet watched Jack ride off with a sinking heart. Her real life beckoned. One that included familial obligations, rules, and etiquette. Most definitely not a dashing highwayman who could set her blood to fire with a mere brush of his lips. Jack would live only in her fantasies now. Perhaps she should take to riding around in carriages full of treasure and see if she could instigate another meeting. Though she’d probably succeed in encountering only an outlaw with no sense of honor and gallantry. Jack was a breed unto himself. Any other highwayman she might meet would mean only danger or death for her.
Jack had left her in the dark of night near the main road within sight of a respectable inn. He’d given her more than enough money to hire a carriage and keep the innkeeper from asking too many questions. He’d promised he’d watch her from the tree line until she’d safely entered the inn, protecting her still. But, of course, he couldn’t accompany her all the way to her home. Or risk being seen at all.
Arriving home in the wee hours of the morning had garnered the expected reaction. The sleepy butler had taken one look at her and sent a squealing maid running for her mother. And then all hell had quietly broken loose.
Elizabet knew her parents wouldn’t be happy about what had happened but she’d assumed, hoped, that their anger would be aimed at the man who’d taken her. Not that she wanted Jack in trouble, but he wasn’t there and knew how to keep himself out of harm’s way. She probably should have known better.
Her mother ushered her straight to her room and closed the door before anyone else could enter.
“Tell me quickly. Are you…harmed?” she asked.
Elizabet frowned. “I was shot but my arm—”
“No, no,” her mother said, waving that away. “I mean…are you…intact?” She whispered the last word as if it were filth coating the inside of her mouth, her face flushing red in the light of the candles.
The temptation to tell her mother that her maidenhead remained intact despite enthusiastic willingness on her part to depart with it burned strong. But the wild look in her mother’s eye held her tongue. Barely.
“Yes, Mother. Aside from my arm I have not been harmed in any way.”
Her mother heaved a great sigh of relief, and Elizabet resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Gunshot wounds, those were fine. Bullets could enter her as long as a man didn’t.
“And your arm is healed now?” her mother added.
“Yes, Mother. It’s fine.” At least her mother showed some concern over her health, virginity aside, however minimal.
“Well, we’ll have the doctor take a quick look. Just to be sure.”
She opened the door and invited in the doctor, then sent the maids scurrying in all directions, bringing hot water, linens, food, and tea. Elizabet’s surprise at the fuss her mother raised quickly evaporated when she remembered her main value as their ticket out of the poorhouse. In her mother’s mind, at least.
Elizabet wanted to argue but knew it would do no good. Nothing she said would matter anymore. She kept her mouth shut, answering the doctor’s questions with as little information as possible. Once the doctor confirmed that Elizabet was all right and her wound had healed rather nicely, her mother shooed everyone out again, her concern focused on other things.
“Did anyone see you getting out of the carriage?” she asked.
Elizabet sighed and pressed back against her pillows, closing her eyes. “No, Mother. I don’t think anyone saw me.”
Her mother twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “I do wish you had chosen a more appropriate time to arrive. What if someone did see you? Arriving in the dead of night, in a strange carriage, completely unaccompanied.”
“Arriving in broad daylight would have made more of a spectacle. After all, in the dead of night I wasn’t likely to be seen, as most people are in bed sleeping.”
“I do not care for your tone, Elizabet. This is a serious matter!”
Elizabet bit her tongue to keep from making any more sarcastic comments. She’d known what she’d be meeting when she arrived home and, aside from the slight display of concern, her family hadn’t disappointed her. Her father had yet to even stop in and see her.
“We must keep Mr. Ramsay from discovering anything about this…distasteful business.”
Elizabet gaped at her. “I’ve been gone for more than a month, Mother. Where does he think I’ve been?”
“We’ve put it around that you’ve been ill.”
Elizabet’s eyes widened with surprise and hurt. “You didn’t tell the authorities? You had no one looking for me?” The small fissure in her heart that had her mother’s name on it cracked open wider. “Didn’t you care at all?”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Of course we cared. We were trying to protect your reputation! What do you think would become of you if it came to be known you’ve spent the last month God-knows-where with a man not your husband? And a villainous highwayman at that! Look at what harm a mere hour in his unchaperoned presence did. Offers for your hand virtually disappeared. A whole month with him? You’d be ruined. We had assumed there would be a ransom demand for you.”
“And when no ransom demand came?”
Lady Dawsey’s lips pursed. Then the fight seemed to drain out of her. “I don’t know. I…your father…” She walked over and slumped onto a chair near the bed, leaning back against the cushions with a tired sigh.
Elizabet hesitated to say anything, not sure if she trusted this calmer version of her mother.
Lady Dawsey sat up and took her hands. “My dear child. I know you think I’m some sort of terrible monster, but I have only your best interests at heart. You’re home. Safe. Unharmed and unspoiled, by the grace of God.”
Elizabet opened her mouth to argue that point but thought better of it. Her shoulder still ached. But she didn’t think her mother would appreciate being corrected. And informing her that she was unspoiled only because the highwayman in question had too much honor would most certainly be received po
orly.
Lady Dawsey continued. “Fergus Ramsay is a good man with a good family name and connections and enough money to keep you extremely comfortable for the rest of your days. He is even relatively young and handsome, which is a far sight better than most get. There is not a girl around who wouldn’t be thrilled to be his wife. I love you too much to risk all of that. Whether it was your doing or not, what happened to you could ruin any chances of your marriage. Mr. Ramsay might have been willing to take you after your accident in the woods, as he himself was there to witness your condition upon being found. But even he would not want you with such a scandal as this attached to your name. All anyone must know is that you were ill.”
Elizabet weighed her words carefully. She knew her mother had her future in mind. All their futures. And she couldn’t tell her that Fergus would stop at nothing to marry her. She could make love to every member of the king’s privy council in full sight of the entire court and Fergus would take her with open arms. As the means to an end, Elizabet had very little to do with why Fergus desired a union with her.
With her father and Fergus set on this union, there would be no escape. She needed to start coming to terms with it.
Elizabet’s heart would never pound in her chest when Fergus was near, except perhaps in fear or disgust. She wouldn’t dream of him night after night, or find herself staring off into space as she relived every moment of their time together. But she had little choice in the matter. And he would ensure her comfort, if not her happiness. It was more than many women got. No one got the man they truly wanted.
And perhaps if she were to wed Fergus, she could discover his plans, warn Jack if Fergus were planning anything that would harm him. She’d never be with Jack, but if she had to marry Fergus, maybe she could make some good come of it.
Her mother still waited for a response. “I understand, Mother. I know I’m lucky to have Mr. Ramsay. I won’t jeopardize our agreement.”
How to Ensnare a Highlander (The MacGregor Lairds) Page 10