Chapter Eleven
Abigail rode her own horse and remained awake and in her saddle every day after that for the next two days, though she was damned exhausted! After the night that she and Daniel kissed for three hours, she’d been careful to keep her distance with him at night. She slept little and was frozen half to death in the morning, but that was better than the warmth of his embrace. She hadn’t fought to get here to find a husband, or to destroy her clan over a lover.
Anne was in love with him. That’s why the ladies in England were wise not to set their interests on him. That had to be it. That’s what he was afraid of, and what she was afraid of too. He was wise. She had to be wise, as well.
It was especially difficult to remain unaffected by him while they practiced in the morning and in the early twilight. She was glad that he looked as pained by their forced separation as she did.
“Tell me about her,” she asked him on the third morning after their kiss. They were practicing, and he had just shown her how to break his nose with the pad of her palm. “Tell me about the queen.”
He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. “She’s a lady of steadfast resolve.”
Heavens, Abby thought while she rammed her heel into his shin, not hard enough to cause him injury, but enough to make him double over, was that good news for her clan, or bad?
“Her body suffers the effects of all her sadness.”
Abby knew the queen was lame. Camlochlin might be lost somewhere in the mists, but when her mother wanted news of her sister, she got it. They knew Anne was ill, as did the rest of the kingdom, but they didn’t know anything personal about her.
Abby stopped fighting him and looked at him. “What is she so sad about?”
He told her and Abby felt a surge of compassion rise up in her. She knew women in Camlochlin who had suffered the loss of pregnancy. Anne had suffered that and more, even losing her husband more than a year ago. But where did Daniel fit in?
“And she’s jealous when it comes to you?” Abby asked him.
“No.” He cast her curious smirk. “Why would she be—Oh, you thought…”
Abby swung at him and nearly struck him. He reached for her, but she ducked and slipped away. “Then, if not the queen, who?”
“Her name is Charlotte.”
“I see.” Abby let him deliver a fatal wound. At least, it would have been fatal had it been real.
He scowled at her as if he truly cared about her being killed. Who was this Charlotte? Did he love her? No, he’d told her he had no lady love.
“Is she dangerous, yer Charlotte?”
“She isn’t mine, but she is dangerous,” he told her honestly. “She would be to you.”
“Why?”
“To punish me for losing my heart to someone else.”
Was he telling her that he could lose his heart to her? Abby looked away. She didn’t want to see what was in his eyes. Damn it to Hades that out of all the knights left in the world, this one had to belong to a madwoman. But his deadly lover was of little consequence. He was the sworn enemy of Jacobites—and he would never ever allow one to take the throne.
She should hate him.
She tried to but about thirty breaths in, she gave in, knowing there was no hatred for him in her. She also tried to keep herself from speaking to him for the rest of the day. She succeeded until they ended their evening practice and were on their way back to where they’d set up camp for the night. “Ye said ye hated Jacobites,” she said, looking up at his profile in the twilight. “How passionate are ye about that?”
He didn’t answer her right away, and she suspected he was getting ready to tell her. Then he spoke, and suddenly she realized she’d returned to him to hear his voice. Silken decadence dipped deep in integrity. She missed the sound of it.
“About as passionate as one can get.”
She was afraid of that. But it was for the best. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “we can hate each other but remain civil. Can we not?”
“I’m not certain we can.”
She moved a bit closer to him while they walked. His scent was growing more familiar, more pleasant every day. She inhaled and power filled her nostrils. He’d saved her, and though she’d always believed she could save herself should danger arise, she’d panicked and those men who took her would have eventually killed her if not for the knight. She couldn’t hate him. It was impossible.
“Will ye do something fer me, General?”
“What is it?”
“Tell me what ye know of James the Third’s supporters.”
“Miss MacGregor.” He glanced at her beside him and filtered sunlight illuminated the different shades of green in his eyes. “I really don’t—”
“ ’Tis just that ye strike me as an intelligent man.” She stopped him before he ended the conversation. “I simply want to ensure that the decisions ye’re making are based on the truth.”
He looked at her again and smiled. “And what is the truth, lady?”
“Ye mock me, my lord.”
“No, but I’ve heard many ‘truths’ about the movement. Everyone has his own defense about why he committed treason. I’ve heard the Catholics’ side and the Protestants’. I don’t think the Almighty gives a care about whose religion is the ‘correct’ one, as long as they both center around Him. So, please, don’t blame God for your defiance.”
Now it was her turn to smile. Just as she suspected, he didn’t know much… about her clan anyway. “Ye’re correct that many of James’s supporters do so because he is Catholic and will not strip them of their religious customs. While I cannot support subjugation of any kind, even of one’s right to worship the way he or she wants, that’s not why I support the king.”
“Then why do you?”
“A large part of it has to do with his sympathetic support of Highland clans. Previous monarchs have been opposed to the Highland way of life. Our support for James is rooted in resisting hostile government… or worse, the Campbells’ invasion into our territories.”
“I see,” he said pensively, and Abby wondered if he truly did, or if he was indulging her. “What does the other part have to do with?”
“Pardon me?” she asked.
“You said a large part of your support has to do with his sympathetic support of Highland clans. Why does the other part of you support him?”
She blinked. She said that? She wanted to tell him, if only to have him stop hating her.
“Because he’s the true king.” She wanted to tell him everything. But she didn’t dare.
“How can you be certain?”
“I simply am.”
He smiled, and she wondered how many times in her life she would dream of the indulgent spread of his lips. She never knew if he mocked her with those wide, almost carefree smiles that came more frequently now, or if he genuinely found her humorous. She suspected it was a little bit of both.
“I wish that was a good enough reason, lady.”
“So do I, General.”
He looked away for a moment, following the path ahead. “You would have me stop fighting for Anne and take up the Jacobite cause based on your word alone?”
Her gaze dipped to the path, as well. He asked a fair question. How should she answer it? “Based on my character, mayhap, my lord. If I can recognize honor, ’twould stand to reason that I understand it. And if so, then I, too, would follow it. If I tell ye that I’m absolutely certain about a thing, I am.”
“Not if a lie is more beneficial than the truth.”
He laughed, and heavens, but she could watch him do it all day. She liked the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, like he laughed often. Did he? When she met him, he barely smiled. In fact, he’d looked quite miserable. She imagined he hated his duty, having to ride to the Highlands, in the middle of enemy territory.
“How long have ye served the throne?” She wanted to know.
His smile faded and he looked away into the darkness. “A long time. I was brought up to serve the throne.”
He looked miserable again. Mayhap it wasn’t Highlanders who evoked such a dismal mood but something or someone in England. Was it the queen? Charlotte, whoever she was? She wanted to ask him but she doubted he’d tell her. Still, mayhap she could help.
“Have I said something to upset ye?”
He angled his chin and looked at her from beneath his lids. “No.”
He wasn’t telling her the truth. Something pained him, drew shadows over his clear green eyes and tightened his jaw. She waited a moment for him to say something else. He didn’t.
She wanted to soothe him, run the pad of her thumb over his brow to ease it. She remembered the night of her attack and the way Daniel had asked her about her mother to distract her. “Tell me about yer father. My mother once told me that ye can tell much aboot a man by knowing a wee bit aboot his father.”
He blinked at her and appeared even more melancholy than before. “I would rather not discuss him if you don’t mind,” he said after a moment.
“Of course.” She smiled at him because she wanted him to know that she hadn’t meant to tread into his private life and she respected his privacy and the desire to keep it private. She had secrets of her own.
When he seemed to forget everything on his mind and smiled back at her, she couldn’t help but wonder what would become of them. What kind of future could there ever be for them? How broken would she allow her heart to become? She couldn’t let herself fall for him. She had to stop it now, before the thought of any kind of life without him in it would be too torturous to endure. The folks in her family had a history of doing illogical things to keep the ones they loved by their sides.
The thought of love and Daniel flashed across her mind as they entered the camp. It was empty. The men were not there. Daniel called out their names, but only silence returned.
Abby looked around. The fire was still lit, and the men’s pallets were laid out for the evening. “Would they have just wandered off?”
“No,” he answered her. “They would not.” He looked down at the footprints scattered about. “I need more light.”
“There’s a small lantern tied to my saddlebag.”
He grinned at her and she came undone. His brief kiss to her knuckles after she retrieved the lantern and handed it to him left her in ruins.
“Come,” he whispered after he lit the lantern. He took her hand and led her away, following one set of tracks over the others.
She would ask him about his choice later. Now, she needed to stay alert and keep her head in the right place.
She didn’t like this kind of life, with danger at every turn. There were a few of her cousins who craved such adventure. But not Abby. She wanted continued peace in Camlochlin, not war for her kin.
“If we fall upon them”—Daniel stopped leading her and turned to look at her, holding the lantern between them—“if there’s danger, I want you to give me your word that you will stay where I put you.”
Abby could see the determination in his eyes and nodded. If it meant that much to him, she would obey him. She didn’t want to admit it so soon, but she trusted this knight with her life. How could she? She had a bit of time to ponder her thoughts while they crept through the foliage. She knew it was foolish to trust anyone. Why, her mother had been betrayed by her closest friend, and almost burned to ashes. She didn’t consider Daniel Marlow her enemy. But he wasn’t her friend either.
Still, she followed him and did as he said.
When they turned the next bend, she was glad she did.