“Because…” He urged Baron to a canter, which had her clutching the pommel. “…there are too many dragoons about. Ye would certainly be noticed dressed in your torn finery, with your hair askew. And watchful eyes would note we had the one horse. And a coaching inn will be the first place the Camerons will stop.”
That probably made sense, although she didn’t want to admit it. “Do you think they will really ride all the way to Fort William?”
“Aye. Neal Cameron is nae going to give up easily.”
Drat that man. Why couldn’t he just take no for an answer?“Then where are we going?”
“We will stop at Spean, near the high bridge that crosses the river. ’Tis less than ten miles past the fort, but far enough that I think we will be safe.”
“We will stop for the night? Will there be an inn?”
“The hamlet lies along the path to Fort Augustus, so there should be something.”
“And shops?”
“We are nae going to spend time dawdling over clothing.”
Her temper flared again. “I am not asking to goshopping. I need a simpler garment to wear so I do not stand out like a…aSassenach.”
Rory grunted. “I suppose ye are right. ’Twill be better if ye blend in.”
“Well, I am glad to hear you think I am smart enough to be right about something.” It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
He laughed. “Doona let it go to your head, lass.”
“Oh! Of all the—” She stopped talking as he urged the horse to a faster pace and she concentrated on keeping her balance. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to have her say later.
Men.
…
He probably should not have goaded her, but it was better to have her riled at him, lashing out, than for her to be compliant and…pleasant. Because when she was not hissing and spitting at him like a feral cat, his thoughts turned to how good it felt with his arms around her, steadying her while he managed the reins. Of course, once Baron had started trotting, the motion had her bouncing her rounded little arse against his cock, which happily ignored his attempt to minimize the effect and rapidly grew hard. Cantering lessened the rigorous bumping, but the rocking of the faster pace had his arms jostling the sides of her breasts as they rode.
The fae weren’t through with him yet…
He would much have preferred they continue on past Spean—he didn’t like being on a road between two military forts—but the lass was right. She did need other clothes…and warmer ones, since they were heading north and the weather was unpredictable in the Highlands.
And he needed to purchase another horse. He was going to be driven as mad as an English hatter if he had to continue riding pillion with her.
They rode in silence until near noon. Juliana was probably fuming over their earlier exchange, but at least she was quiet about it, which was good, since he was battling lustful urges brought on by the constant contact with her. God only knew what direction the conversation would have taken had there been one.
He was jolted back to reality when she finally spoke.
“Are those dragoons over there?”
Rory reined in Baron and followed her pointed finger to a ridge a few hundred feet from the road. Five horses stood abreast, their riders in bright-red coats and black tricorn hats.
“Mhics an Diabhail! Droch crioch ort!”
Juliana twisted in the saddle. “What does that mean?”
He blinked, not realizing he’d cursed out loud. From the curious look on her face, he doubted Juliana would take “nothing” as an answer. “May the sons of the devil come to an evil end.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “They are dragoons, then?”
“Aye. And they have definitely seen us.”
“We are doing nothing wrong.”
