A corner of his mouth quirked up as he glanced at the bed. “So ye feel safe and sound with me?”
She felt her face heat. With her fair skin, she was probably the color of a beet. “I…I was referring to escaping from the Camerons.”
“Ah.” He looked amused again. “And do ye plan on escaping from this room as well?”
Her mouth started to drop open, and she snapped it closed. “No. Since there is no other room available, we will have to share this one. I already said I will sleep on the floor. I trust you will not bother me.”
All semblance of humor left him, and his face turned stony. “I have never forced myself on a woman, and I never will. Ye can be sure I willnabotherye.”
Her eyes widened at his tone. “I did not mean to make you angry. I simply—”
“I am nae angry, but I am a man of my word. I have a responsibility to bring ye back to Strae Castle, and that is what I will do.” He threw his saddlebag into a corner as a knock sounded at the door. “That will be for ye.”
“For me?”
“Aye. I asked the innkeeper’s wife to fetch a bath for ye.” He turned toward the door. “Doona wait up for me.” He pointed toward the bed. “And I will be the one sleeping on the floor.”
He was gone before she could say a word, and she sighed softly. Rory MacGregor had to be the most infuriating man she’d ever met. And yet… He’d ordered abathfor her.
…
Rory wanted to slam his fist into something as he made his way down the stairs to the public room of the inn. He’d have welcomed seeing Neal Cameron right then and punching the daylight out of him, but the room contained only weary travelers.
He signaled for a pint and took a table in a darkened corner where he could observe and not draw attention to himself. He didn’t think they’d been followed. He hadn’t seen any sign of Camerons when they’d left Fort William, so it was probably safe to assume they hadn’t yet arrived by the time he and Juliana had left.
Juliana. The woman had the ability to vex him like no other female. She was as aggravating as she was tantalizing. Contrary and opinionated, unwilling to take his advice and all too ready to follow her own, yet there was something… He couldn’t quite come up with the right word. She certainly wasn’t fragile, nor was she easily intimidated, but… There was somethingvulnerableabout her.
He started to laugh as he imagined what Juliana’s reaction would be if he told her he thought she wasvulnerable. No doubt her hair would blaze—it did seem to brighten when she was angry—and fiery words would spout from her mouth. The image of a flaming-haired Medusa came to mind, and he chortled.
The barmaid who’d just set down his mug gave him a wary look and took a safe step back. She probably thought he was some halfwit, so he managed to straighten his face. For good measure she tugged her bodice up over half-exposed breasts, clearlynotextending an invitation. He began to grin at that, since it’d never happened to him before, but quickly stopped. He didn’t need the barmaid telling the innkeeper they had a lunatic sitting at a table. Much as the floor of the bedchamber would be uncomfortable, he didn’t want to be put outdoors. He placed an extra shilling on the table.
“Thank ye for your trouble.”
He hardly noticed how quickly she grabbed the coin and disappeared as he returned to his thoughts. Then he quickly sobered as he remembered what Juliana had said.
I trust you will not bother me.He frowned. Did she really think he wouldbotherher? He remembered that quick, panicked look before he’d kissed her in front of the Camerons and how she’d stiffened when he’d first touched her. He’d thought that was because they generally argued more than they agreed on anything, but shehadsoftened and even parted her lips…actions that he was well aware were the first signs of arousal.
Rory took a healthy draft of the ale. The woman was perplexing, and he didn’t like being confused, but if anything reconfirmed what he’d been preaching to himself about responsibility and duty, it was her statement.I trust you will not bother me.He took another hefty swig, nearly draining the mug.
Even now, as he sat there brooding, she was upstairs soaking in a hot tub. Soakingnakedin a hot tub. He could picture her with her head tipped back, long hair spilling over the rim of the tub so it didn’t get wet, her breasts poking out of the water, wet and glistening with soap suds as she moved the washcloth slowly over herself… His cock grew hard, and he resisted the urge to bolt up the stairs and finish washing her himself.
I trust you will not bother me.Damnation. He needed to stop thinking about Juliana. The woman was truly driving him to insanity. He slammed his empty mug down and looked around for the barmaid. When he didn’t see her, he cursed again. The wench was probably cowering somewhere to avoid coming to his table. Perhaps he was already mad and she was smart enough to realize it.
Rory sighed and forced his thoughts back to the present situation. Not the one upstairs in the bedchamber, but the one that would get them back to Strae Castle as quickly as possible.
He still didn’t like the idea that she’d actually hailed a dragoon and identified herself, even as an Englishwoman, but he really couldn’t fault the rest of her plan. If Cameron took the bait and rode straight north to Grant Castle, they’d safely be at Invergarry before Neal realized he’d been sent on a fool’s mission. There would be no reason for the man to stop at Invergarry on his return to Fort William since he’d have no cause to suspect they’d gone there, but even if he did, by the day after tomorrow they’d already be on their way to Drumochter Pass and then on to Blair Castle, home of Clan Murray. From there it would be another hard day’s ride home. He grimaced. A hard day being close to fifteen hours in the saddle, but he didn’t think Juliana would fight him on that since she clearly didn’t want to spend any more time with him than she had to.
I trust you will not bother me.He clenched his jaw and stood. Whatever he might think or feel, he would make sure he didn’t bother her. He was simply here to take her home.
But perhaps a dousing in the cold water of the horse trough would help him remember that.
…
“What do ye mean, they’re gone?” Neal stared at Jamie, his second-in-command, and drew the collar of his coat closer to his ears, silently cursing the English for not allowing the tartan to be worn. He and five of his men had been huddled in the increasing cold next to Spean Bridge for nearly an hour. “I would have seen them.”
“The clerk said they left before dawn.”
“In this weather? It’s starting to snow. More than likely a storm is coming.”
