Chapter Five

While he rode, Daniel considered the cursed direction his life had taken in the last se’nnight. Considering that all he’d heard was true, and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t, he was the bastard son of a prince, the result of a meaningless tryst with a serving wench, and not the son of men with a history of loyalty and dedication.

All that was enough to set his head into a tailspin, but it didn’t end there. No. The worst part, the part that kept him awake at night during his journey to Skye, was Anne’s deceit… her betrayal. He hadn’t waited around the palace to question Anne the night he’d eavesdropped, but left the ball, then left for Scotland at dawn.

“I’ve never been to England before.”

His hope for a smooth journey back to England shattered. Was he expected to carry on conversations with her the entire way?

“I said, I’ve never been to England before. Is it as bonny as Scotland?”

She wasn’t going to give him a choice. He had to answer her. “Some places are quite beautiful, yes,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. He hoped that mollified her.

“Why d’ye avert yer eyes from mine?” she boldly demanded. “Is it the MacGregors that ye hate, or all Highlanders?”

He avoided looking at her because never in all his travels had he ever seen a more beautiful woman than Miss Abigail MacGregor. Hair the color of pale, milky moonbeams illuminated her face… and damnation, her face—sweetly rounded with a slight dimple in her chin—made him forget to breathe. Her cheekbones were high and noble, her eyes, so vividly blue he doubted the good of his own vision. Not to mention how the disarming lilt of her voice wreaked havoc on him.

But it was more than that. It was the way she moved, with grace and command… like a queen… that gave him pause to look at her. Still, he found himself looking enough times to note the way her eyes glimmered like stars when she wept over her family earlier. Her pert nose had grown red, and he swore he’d never seen anyone more spellbinding. For a moment or two she was the only thing occupying his thoughts.

He swung his gaze to her, but only for a moment. “I don’t give a damn about your name or your clan’s proscription. You’re a Jacobite, and that’s enough.”

Finally, she grew quiet. He was about to give thanks when her lily-soft voice, this time imbued with an icy edge, broke the silence.

“If ye’ll excuse me, my lord, I’d rather ride with the geldings than with the arse.” Without waiting for his approval, she yanked her reins to the left and rode back to his men.

He clenched his jaw, regretting his personal vow to keep her safe. Still, damn him, he was committed to his duty and moved his horse beside her again, so close, in fact, their knees touched.

“My lord, I would prefer—”

“Don’t be difficult,” he cut her off.

Her mouth snapped shut but when he chanced another glance her way he knew by her clenched teeth and fists to match that her silence wasn’t given out of obedience. She was going to be challenging.

“If ye hate Jacobites, then ye’re a traitor to the throne and the true king, James the Third.”

He chuckled. “The Pretender? He’s not the true king. And it is you who is speaking treason.”

“Will ye arrest me, then?” She didn’t sound afraid of him. She sounded like she was mocking him. “Am I to hang?”

If he didn’t strangle her first.

They reached the ferry and he paid the ferryman extra to leave early. He put Lieutenants Hubert and Ashley at her sides and Captain Andrews before her. He took her rear and watched both it and their surroundings as they boarded the vessel. Only after they began moving did Daniel give up his close proximity to her. Thankful for the blessing of distance, he let his thoughts return to matters at home. Home, with a father who taught him ideals and friends who were more valuable than all the gold in the kingdoms. It was all a lie. One that kept him from knowing his true father, Prince George, whom he saw each day.

Anne’s warning to him about bringing Charlotte to his bed made sense now. Charlotte wanted to bed the prince and claim his child.

Hell, he was weary of life at court, so weary of all the deceit and games for power. He’d prefer a simple life, a good battle every now and then, but mostly quiet. Could he ever get it if his identity was discovered?

A thread of musical laughter reached his ears and he turned to see Miss MacGregor smiling at his men. Daniel didn’t turn away. He couldn’t. His body refused to deny him the pleasure of looking at her. How dangerous was it for any of his men to lose his heart to her? Should he keep them away from her? He strolled across the deck, coming up behind her, listening to what she said.

“Ye’re verra’ kind, Lieutenant Hubert.”

Hubert’s smile wasn’t what worried Daniel. It was Hubert’s reaction to hers. He raked his hand through his dark curls and blushed beneath his thick chestnut beard.

Damn. That, sure as hell, wasn’t a good sign.

“Lieutenant,” she chirped, ignoring Daniel when he stepped around her, revealing his presence. “Would ye be so kind as to tell me the names of the rest of my companions? I think ’tis dreadful to travel with people ye dinna’ even know. Since yer general is too rude to introduce us, I was hoping ye would.”

For a moment, Hubert looked about to be sick. No Jacobite insulted General Marlow and lived. Then the lieutenant coughed, since his officer didn’t seem to take offense. “That there is Captain Andrews.” Hubert continued on and pointed to the raven-haired man behind her. “Be wary of him, m’lady. He’s a knave with the ladies at court.”

That was true, Daniel thought, looking at him. Andrews went through women like fire in a dry forest. Daniel would have to keep an eye on him.

“That’s Lieutenant Ashley with all the whiskers. He’s a merciless bastard and will cut your throat while he hums his mother’s favorite ditty.

“And you’re already acquainted with General Marlow.”

She cut Daniel a slightly interested glance. “What should I know aboot him?”

“He’s known as the Jacobite killer,” Andrews answered, passing them.

Damn him.

Daniel glared at his back. That was the last thing Miss MacGregor needed to know, especially since she was one, along with her entire family. He shouldn’t care if she knew, but he did. He didn’t like terrified women, and if she knew how many Jacobites he’d killed… “That’s enough questions.” Daniel spoke his command in quiet tones, but it was obeyed nonetheless. “Our guest, who from this moment on will be called Miss Campbell, doesn’t wish to hear about such savageries.”

“Jacobite killer,” she said, favoring him with her coolest stare. “I’ve heard of ye.”

Daniel inhaled a deep breath, not wanting to have this conversation with her.

“I expected the man who carried the weight of that title to be more savage, less clever and eloquently spoken and well-mannered. I would never have imagined a monster could be a knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

She didn’t sound terrified.

Hubert cleared his throat and cast her a dozen nervous looks in the space of a breath.

Daniel scattered the others with a steely glint in his glance, then crossed his hands behind his back when they were alone.

“You know the truth now. Whatever you wish to accuse me of or curse me with, release it from you this moment so the rest of the journey will be less torturous.”

“Nothing I say now will ease the suffering I’ll be forced to endure in yer company.”

He slanted his gaze to her and damn him if he didn’t smile a little, the first time in a little over a se’nnight.

“I’ve heard it all before, lady. I won’t be swayed.”

She looked like she wanted to fling herself at him and wrap her hands around his throat until he was dead.

“I have nothing to say to ye, General.”

That was it? He rather liked her strength to control her tongue. He could handle quiet. Perhaps the journey wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“One more thing,” he added before leaving her alone. “I won’t have you seducing my men. Nor—”

“Seducing yer men?” An octave higher and she would be shouting at him. Her temper was boiling. “How dare ye even suggest that?”

“Quite easily, when I see it with my own eyes.”

She was tempted to take a swing at him. He could see it in her eyes, iced over and sharp as swords. He was tempted to take a step back. No strike came, though she gazed at his auburn whiskers and the cut of his jaw like she was thinking about hitting him good.

When the captain of the ferry came over to share words with her, Daniel studied her silently. Apparently, the ferryman knew her family. Daniel watched her. She wasn’t intimidated by his command, or his savage reputation. He dipped his eyes to her throat and found the pulse that beat there. Beguiling. He thought about bending his mouth to it, running his tongue over her milky skin. He felt her eyes on him and leisurely lifted his gaze from her throat. Her cheeks blazed as if she could read his thoughts. He looked away. What the hell was he doing thinking about taking her in his arms? Kissing her?

They were alone once again.

“Do I need protection from ye, General?” she asked him quietly.

He returned his gaze to her. Damn. Did he just entertain a thought of seducing a Jacobite? “No, Miss Campbell. Not at all.”

She quirked her brow. “Truly? Because when the Jacobite killer looks at the throat of a Jacobite lass like he’s thinking of devouring her, she usually needs protection from him.”

She was correct.

“Give me back my sword,” she demanded, “so that I can protect myself from ye, murderer.”

So much for her having nothing to say. He let his expression soften a bit, amused that this veil of a woman thought she could protect herself from him. If he were a different kind of man he would toss her blade to her and let her have a go at him. But he didn’t fight women and none ever needed protection from him. Moreover, none ever wanted protection from him. He would be more careful with this one. She was more appealing, bolder, and cleverer than the others.

What the hell did Anne want with her? Despite what the queen had done to him, he wouldn’t walk away from her until he heard her reasons for lying to him his whole life.

God help him. He wasn’t who he’d thought he was. He had been born out of wedlock. The prince may have forced his servant to his bed, or he may not have—and now Daniel would never know. So much for honor, loyalty, and dedication. It was a difficult truth to accept.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Miss Campbell,” he told her as the ferry prepared to dock. “I’ve never killed or harmed a woman. I admit to allowing myself a brief moment to admire you, but I would never act on emotion.”

Damn him, but the scarlet blush drifting over the bridge of her nose was glorious.

“Good,” she said, her eyes like ice-tipped landscapes. “I’ll be certain to tell yer queen that ye were a gentleman.”

Daniel moved past her, glad that they seemed to have come to an agreement. Whether she hated him or not, he’d keep her safe, as promised, from thieves or anyone who brought danger to her, including himself or Charlotte. “Yes, lady, you do that.”

They left the ferry and rode into Glenelg without sharing words. Daniel didn’t mind. He enjoyed the quiet.

Apparently, the queen’s new handmaiden did not. She chatted with his men like they’d been friends for years. During the early part of their journey he learned much about her. More than he cared to know, in fact. Why did he have to be privy to knowing that her favorite flowers were bluebells, or the names of all her relatives and their dogs? What good would any of it do him? He was a soldier and he was a bit more interested in her conversation with Hubert about the men of Camlochlin and their service to the throne. So, two of her uncles fought for the queen’s father, King James, in the Royal Army, one a general and the other a captain. The queen must hope that if the MacGregor chief’s daughter was in her care, the Jacobites wouldn’t attack. But Daniel was unsure if her assumption was correct. This clan, the MacGregors, had a history of bloodshed the likes of which frightened kings enough to proscribe them. The lady’s “kin,” as she called them, had fought through the ages to keep what was theirs. He doubted they would stop now, with a queen who threatened more of their rights. It was a mistake bringing Abigail MacGregor to the palace. She was a Jacobite, and a beautiful one at that. It was only a matter of time before harm came to her. When it did, the men from her clan would attack. He didn’t doubt his army could defeat them, but he would likely lose good men in the fray. He’d been sent to escort her. Now he had to become her protector for the throne’s sake… and because he promised her father she would return without mar or flaw.

He shouldn’t have vowed such a thing. Not to a Jacobite. Not about a Jacobite.

“General Marlow?” she called out, riding up on his left flank.

“What is it, Miss Campbell?”

“Tell me of yer life.” She slowed her mount to a canter at his side. “What drove ye to make such terrible choices in yer life to give you this reputation? The men and I have exchanged stories, but ye have remained quiet. Now ’tis yer turn to speak. Begin, please.”

He turned his head to look at her. His gaze was dark and razor sharp. Clearly, she suffered some foolish notion that she could command him about. “I prefer not to.” He turned forward again and set his eyes on the distance and off her.

It wasn’t safe to let his gaze linger on her. He might be tempted to ponder the shape of her lips and a plan of action to see them smile. He might also be tempted to compare her to moonlight and stars—light in an otherwise black void.

“Let us pretend, fer yer sake, that I care aboot yer preferences, General Marlow. I am bored and will go along with it.”

Curious at her boldness, he turned to her again. She took her time letting the glacial stare she’d been aiming at him change into something more curious.

“Ye’re deadly enough to have earned such a loathsome title, ye fought my kin with great skill and stamina, but ye avoid me as if I were a dreaded foe who frightens ye oot of yer boots. Why is that?”

He wanted to inhale the sight of her standing up to him, draped in her plaids, her wheaten tresses windblown and pulled free of her thick braid. He wanted to blink or swallow, just to see if he still could. There seemed to be much more to Abigail MacGregor than he suspected.

More wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He should keep his distance.

“Miss Campbell, each one of us fears something. Let me assure you, you are not my something.” He almost doubted his declaration for an instant when she set her unblinking gaze on him. “Let us direct our questions toward less self-indulgent avenues.”

Her eyes sparked like lightning striking ice. Was she smiling or biting her lip? “Of course, my lord. I misspoke.” And then, possessing more courage than many of his men, she looked him square in the eye when he didn’t move right away. “But why else do ye avoid me?” she boldly continued. “Or allow yer eyes to roam over me like I gave ye permission to do so, when I have not?” She stared at him, challenging him to look away first. He didn’t. How was he supposed to tell her the truth, that he was afraid if he looked at her for too long now, she’d likely haunt his sleep for a while later.

“I’ll be certain to stay oot of yer way then.” She slowed her mount and let him pass her.

She rode behind him in silence, which Daniel fully enjoyed, until it became a deafening accusation that he was a cad.