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Borrodale House, Scotland
April 20, 1746
“There ye are.” Coll had never seen a woman look as guilty as Ginny did as she jumped in surprise and spun around to face him. Her cheeks flushed with bright, becoming color though she refused to meet his eye. “I told ye I’d find ye wherever ye went, did I no’?”
“I let you find me. Not the same thing.”
“Did ye? Looked to me as though ye were trying to sneak away wi’out anyone seeing ye.”
Though he merely meant to tease, her color deepened. Had he stumbled upon the truth? Had she truly been about to slip away and leave them behind? Not that he would blame her. The peril they faced, particularly that he’d encumbered her with, weighed upon him.
He should never have put her in this position.
“As a matter of fact, I was returning to Borrodale House, not running from it.” Reaching into the bag she carried, she retrieved an item wrapped in white linen and held it out to him. “Here. I brought this back for you. A peace offering.”
“Are we at war?” The bundle was warm in his hand. He opened it find a trio of scones. They smelled of butter, sugar, and home. His mouth watered. What was it they said about the quickest route to a man’s heart being through his stomach?
“I figured you might be as tired of oatcakes as I am,” she said as he bit into one. “I hope you like currants.”
If he hadn’t before, he did now. He hadn’t eaten anything so delightful or comforting in a long while. He finished them off as Ginny smiled indulgently. “Delicious. Thank ye. Where did ye find them?”
“A little shop in the village.”
His heart clenched for a different reason. “Ye walked all the way to Arisaig?”
“It’s only a few miles.” Her shoulder lifted in a blasé shrug.
Aye, to a village with an active port filled with boats and a dozen opportunities to leave them all behind. He still couldn’t reason out why she lingered. “Why no’ leave while ye had the chance?”
“I have a compelling reason to stay.”
The simple explanation kicked Coll in the gut before he shuffled off the pleasure the words infused him with. Naturally, she was speaking of Charles Edward, of his continued safety and security. It wasn’t Coll who compelled her to stay, not now or back at Invergarry Castle. With that hint of a bashful smile on her sweet lips, however, it was easy for him to imagine her motivations quite differently. That blush on her freshly scrubbed cheeks....
His gaze swept over her from head to toe absorbing the almost imperceptible changes between the time he’d escorted her to her assigned chamber the previous evening and now. “Ye look remarkably fresh this morn. Have yer clothes been laundered?”
The morning breeze lifted strands of her lustrous, tousled hair. Without thinking, he reached out thinking to brush it back from her cheek. Instead, he rubbed the silky lock between his fingers and lifted to his nose. As fragrant as a field of heather in spring. “Ye had a bath.”
She looked as guilty as sin when she shrugged the observation away. “I took a dip in the loch last night. I’m not used to going days on end without bathing.”
The tidal waters of Loch Nan Uamh had never left anyone smelling so fine. More likely she’d bribed one of MacDonald’s servants and was hesitant to bring trouble down upon them. Though rather envious of her ingenuity, he’d let her have her secrets.
“’Tis truth ye dinnae ken ye’re mad, lass,” he teased instead. “The water maun be cold. Do ye no’ ken ye could catch a deadly chill wi’ such madness?”
“I thought we agreed I’m not entirely mad.”
“Nay,” he shot back. “Only that ye’re no’ aware of yer madness.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
She was, in fact, rather delightful.
It had been a long while since he’d enjoyed a person’s company more.
“Since ye found it so enjoyable, I may have to join ye next time.”
Ginny’s full lips parted. Her shaky inhale and wide-eyed stare skewed Coll’s thoughts sideways. In a flash he imagined her stripping down and joining him for a midnight swim. He’d finally see those bountiful curves as God intended them, take her in his arms and let the current swirl around them under the moonless sky. Together they’d raise the water temperature of the loch by several degrees—
He snapped back to reality, cursing his suddenly shoogly knees. Bugger it all, she’d gone from haunting his dreams to consuming his waking hours as well. Granted, they were far better images than those that normally filled his mind, however inconvenient.
The lass was no help in banishing the wayward fantasy. She smiled up at him as provocative as a she-devil at the crossroads. “I might have to take you up on that offer.”
The suggestive proposal came as a surprise. Something had changed in Ginny. Between them. What was once no more than a contentious battle of wills had surrendered to a cautious truce. Beyond that to something akin to friendship with a hint of flirtation. Coll found the combination enchanting if not puzzling.
He could pinpoint the precise moment her mood shifted. When he’d been searching for her at Cameron’s cottage, thinking she’d had a change of heart and abandoned them, only to have her run to him instead of away from him.
It wasn’t a question of when it had happened so much as why.
He had no idea what occurred in such a short amount of time to cue that evolution from adversary to ally. Without foundation, he couldn’t help but think that she’d fled something else, something far less preferable than his company. Ever since then, she’d been quieter, softer. More cooperative. In turn, he attempted to do the same, feeding kindness with kindness. Her amiability with his own.
He hadn’t expected his growing desire to be met in kind.
There had been an ember of it when she’d awoken in his arms the previous afternoon, though thankfully she’d seemed oblivious to his raging erection at the time. Here it was again in her alluring smile. He could kiss her lush lips and be welcome. Touch her and be touched in turn. Rekindle that flicker of passion from days ago and watch it go up in flames. Coll longed for that fire, wanted it to consume him.
Through another restless night he’d lain awake knowing she slept in the next room, imagining all they could do together to burn the misery of the past year from his mind. From the ashes, anticipation, rather than dread for the days and years ahead, might rise like a phoenix.
As if a night of passion could rewrite his enthusiasm for life itself. Coll scoffed at the barmy thought. Intercourse was no life-altering undertaking. Earth shattering, perhaps, but not so consequential.
Och, he’d gone soft in the head. Nothing more than the musings of a man who’d gone too long without a lass in his bed. If she could read his thoughts, Ginny would be in her rights to flee from him in truth. As it was, she merely continued to smile, likely unaware of its effect on him.
Her gaze shifted to his lips and the effect went straight to his groin. “Um, you have a bit of...”
The soft whisper of her finger along the corner of his mouth was almost too much to bear. He caught her hand to push her away and found himself brushing his lips over her fingertips. Her sweet gasp only stoked the fire growing in him.
With a strained laugh, she pulled away. “You know I don’t even know your name? I’m curious, it wouldn’t be Connor, would it? Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?”
Her words teased though he couldn’t determine why. “Nay.”
“What is it then?” She touched his hand, no more. He felt as though the appendage were held to an open flame. “Seems in a moment like this that MacLeod isn’t quite right.”
Underlying sensuality laced her voice, and though he cleared his throat before speaking, his was as gruff. “’Tis Cailin, or Coll if it pleases ye.”
“Coll.” His name was honey on her lips.
Would that she call it out in passion. Beg him for more...
“Ah, there you are, MacLeod!”
They leapt apart as Charles Edward strode down the lawn with the MacDonald of Clanranald, MacEachine, and Burke in his wake. The men carried several long muskets minus the bayonets that adorned them in battle. Coll couldn’t help but wonder where the prince’s toady of an Irishman was.
Not toady. Nay, ass kisser.
The appellation suited O’Sullivan far better.
“Our host informed me as we broke our fast that a sizable roe had been sighted in the area.”
“A bull stag,” MacDonald corrected in a booming voice. “A magnificent beast that has eluded my gamekeeper for nigh unto a year now.”
“We’re to go stalking,” the prince informed them. “The others loll about in their beds but I knew you would be up and equal to the task. You do not mind, do you, Miss Hughes?”
Not only did the prince want him to stalk an elusive deer when Coll’s feet where still sore and blistered from the walking they’d done these past days, he wanted him to leave Ginny behind just as their exchange was becoming interesting.
“I fear gunshot might attract unwanted attention, yer highness,” he said in effort to quash the enterprise entirely.
“Nonsense,” Charles Edward dismissed his excuse. “MacDonald assures me there’s been no sign of government troops in the area. And I feel the need for some lighthearted sport after days of excessive worries.”
A royal’s prerogative.
“As ye wish, yer highness. Perhaps the lady would like to join us as well,” Coll heard himself say and justified it with the knowledge that a day with her on his arm would be far more pleasant than one in the prince’s company.
Burke signaled his accord with a low grunt while the prince, MacDonald, and MacEachine chuckled merrily at the suggestion. “Hunting is no sport for ladies.”
“On the contrary, I would be happy to join your highness,” Ginny surprised them all by saying. “It is a lovely morning to be out and about if nothing else.”
As it had many times before, she modulated her speech in addressing the prince. She didn’t merely guard her tongue, she minded her tone and accent. The overall effect was cultured and pleasant to the ear. Nevertheless, Coll was finding that he far preferred the tart intonation and comfortable conversation they shared.
“It is!” Charles Edward nodded, his smile widening to one of true pleasure. “So it is, indeed. We would be happy to have you join us as long as you do not spoil the fun by telling me in advance if we shall fell the beast. It would take the sport out of it.”
“I shan’t say a word, your highness.”
“Excellent. Shall we then? MacDonald, lead on if you please!”
The prince linked arms with Ginny, compelling her to walk with him behind MacDonald and MacEachine. She cast Coll a rueful shrug as he was left behind with Burke to follow. While not preferable to having her on his own arm, Coll couldn’t regret the view. Without her cape to camouflage her body, he was treated to the sight of glossy, russet curls cascading down her back, ending just below her shoulder blades so as not to obscure the dip of her waist or flare of lush hips that swayed provocatively enough to put a hypnotic swish in her tartan skirt.
His loins stirred at the sight. Again. Aching arousal had become his constant companion. While a more pleasing consideration than their current state of affairs, the hunger would not be assuaged by logic or circumstance. He longed to drag her away from all of this, find a bed and leave it all behind for a day. A week more.
She seemed oblivious to the effect she had on men. Any of them, not just himself. Even Charles Edward was taken by her.
“Stalking is no sport for those of ill temperament, Miss Hughes.” The prince pulled a silver flask from his pocket as they walked and drank from it. “One must practice stealth and patience.”
Being in the prince’s company had become a study of the same. Over the past year, Coll hadn’t been in close enough company with the prince to be privy to his fickle temperament. Taking into account Ginny’s observations of what the prince might feel about their devastating loss on the Drummossie Muir following a year of optimism and triumph, perhaps there was some justification to his changeable moods. While deep in his cups the previous evening, Charles Edward had vacillated between melancholy for all that had been lost and anger when Elcho, a local chieftain, refused the prince’s orders to be of service then compounded the insult when he declared he’d never fight under the Stuart banner again. His rejection revived Charles Edward’s suspicions of treachery among his ranks.
He displayed none of that ire this morning, though Coll suspected the prince had been nipping from that flask since they broke their fast hours before. Ginny maintained his good mood on the hunt by indulging the prince’s stories of conquest rather than mentioning Cumberland’s pursuit or questioning him about their plans for the days to come.
“The way ye watch the lass, I begin to wonder if ye’re here to serve the prince or court her, lad.” Burke’s low, gravelly voice held a hint of humor.
Other than being in service to Coll’s kinsman and the quiet, capable sort, he didn’t know much about Burke. In fact, he’d almost rather the man not find his tongue now.
“I couldnae blame ye. She is a bonny thing to be sure.”
“I dinnae ken yer meaning.” Och, he kent the gibe precisely as Burke meant it, not that Coll would admit it. Had he been so obvious?
“I’m no’ saying it wisnae right to bring her along whatever yer intentions toward her,” Burke continued. “She’s a canny one. She kens something we dinnae. ’Tis almost easy to believe her a true seer, aye?”
Coll eyed the man with caution. “Ye dinnae believe in her gift?”
“Nae more than ye, I’d wager. Curious, since I also trust her vision to my bones.”
Nice to know he wasn’t the only one with contradictory feelings about Ginny. The combination of cynicism and blind faith had been hard to reconcile. He’d contributed his mixed emotions to his unwilling attraction. Hopefully, that was not the case for Burke.
O’Sullivan chose that moment to join them, coming from the manor at a run. Heaven forbid the prince lack his company for even a moment, Coll thought acerbically. Much to his surprise, Charles Edward waved off his most ardent admirer and carried on with Ginny on his arm while the Irishman sulked behind them.
“’Tis obvious Charles Edward feels it too,” Burke observed.
Coll groaned at the thought. Should Charles Edward decide to grace the lass with his affections, he didn’t know what he’d do...any more than he knew what Ginny would do.
The thought renewed the many mysteries surrounding her along with doubts he’d been content to set aside. The lass volunteered her service and crossed miles of wilderness on foot without complaint in order to maintain a place in the prince’s company. Why would a young woman go to such lengths without cause? What was it that drove her actions?
I have a compelling reason to stay.
As much as he might like to be that reason, Coll knew it wasn’t he who moved her to stay with them. But what if it wasn’t the prince’s safety, either? What if Ginny had a far more nefarious purpose in mind?
He watched her as she spoke to Charles Edward, blessing him with her broad, engaging smile. One would think pearls of wisdom fell from his lips given how enraptured she appeared. She gazed upon him with undeniable intensity as if she were painting his portrait. As if she could absorb every nuance of his character.
No, Ginny wasn’t here to harm the prince in any way.
Now that Burke unwittingly put the suggestion in his mind, however, Coll couldn’t help but wonder if she had hopes of serving the prince in another, more personal manner.