Chapter Twenty-One

Daniel ignored his painful erection as he rose up in bed. He hadn’t been this hard in… hell, he couldn’t recall.

He looked down at himself and then at the empty space beside him. Where was Abby? It wasn’t yet dawn. Why was she not in bed? He called out her name and then left the bed when no answer came. Was she roaming the keep alone? Damn it, he had no clothes!

While he yanked a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his waist the memory of her thick hair spilling onto his chest like endless sighs invaded him. He thought he couldn’t find her any more beautiful than he found her every damn day, but at the end of each night she proved him painfully wrong. What they’d shared wasn’t an error in judgment, at this point, at least. He didn’t regret it. But if he had to do it over again, he would have left her alone. How would he forget the way she looked poised above him, her face contorted in ecstasy, convincing him once and for all that no woman on all the earth, in all its civilizations, was more enchanting than she?

He wished the start of the new day would clear his thoughts. For they remained filled with only her. How would he keep what he felt for her masked until he made certain she was safe from Charlotte? He was certain a mere look her way would convince everyone at the palace that his heart was lost to her. What if Charlotte found out that Abby was a MacGregor? A Jacobite? How much trouble would she make for Anne by going after Rob MacGregor’s daughter?

Abby would be in danger because of him. But he could keep her safe. Nothing could stop him. Nothing but Abby. She had to do what he said at the palace, behave the way he told her to behave.

The door to the chamber opened and Abby entered carrying a bundle he recognized as his clothes.

She needed to begin practicing now.

“Abigail,” he said, sounding hard to his own ears, “from now on you won’t take off and roam about on your own. Do you understand?”

She handed him his clothes and stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. “Is that a command, General?”

He knew she wouldn’t like it. But if he was going to keep her—

“D’ye think I’m one of yer men?”

He smiled because he knew she was being coy. “After the night we shared, you answer that.”

He noted the sparking flames in her eyes just an instant before she swung at him. He caught her wrist before her palm reached his face.

“You’ll start obeying me. It’s for your own safety,” he warned.

She cocked a corner of her mouth at him. There was no humor or affection in her tight smirk. “Fer my safety. Of course.” She tried to free herself from his grip. “Are ye going to keep me captive then?”

“Not if you agree to stop being a fool and finally begin using your head.”

He should have seen it coming. One didn’t order a woman about who had aspirations of being her clan’s chief. He should have expected her to fight back. He was treating her like he was a general and she was his underling. But in truth, her lips distracted him. Her bosom, rising and falling beneath her laced kirtle, made him forget the world and his duties and everything but the sound of her breath.

He should have noted the slight change in its rhythm when he bent down to sit next to her.

He wasn’t sure what she hit him with, but he knew he was losing consciousness and he was fairly certain he heard her voice as she left the room again.

“But I am a fool and I would much prefer to use yer head, General.”

He wanted to say something, but he was falling deeper into the chasm. Damn it…

Daniel woke sometime later. He opened his eyes, then closed them quickly again at the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window. He reached his hands to his head to feel for the knife rammed through his temple. There was some dried blood but no knife. He was on the floor beside the bed. Was she in the bed? He’d have to pull himself up to find out.

When he rested his palm on the floor, he hit something cool that rolled away. A metal vase. Was she mad to strike him with a metal vase? They needed to talk.

“Abigail?”

He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth. He should throttle her, but as his memories returned to him, he knew he’d deserved the blow. He should have used more tenderness with her. But really, what did he know of women? He’d slept with a few of them in the past, but he’d never cared about any long enough to learn about her.

He looked toward the door and cursed under his breath. She’d run away again. The keep was dangerous, filled with a hundred Jacobite men. He fought back the urgent desire to protect her. He would find her and make certain she’d come to no harm.

He retrieved his clean clothes from the bed and changed into them, including his boots. They were leaving today. The faster he got her in and out of England, the better. He still had Montagu to deal with. Hubert and Ashley were dead; only one of them buried. And Andrews. What had become of him?

And what the hell would he do if the MacGregors were discovered and he was ordered to arrest them?

He cleaned the blood off his temple and left the room. He looked down the hall. He wished he’d never been sent to escort Abigail to the queen. He wished he’d never met her. He had enough trouble; he didn’t need her and her kin adding to it.

As he stood there contemplating his troubles, the door to a chamber opened and Abigail and Nora stepped out. The sight of his charge, safe and well, banished every one of his silent declarations against her. He was the fool, abandoning his good sense, forgetting why he was angry with her when he left the room.

Before he spoke and made a damn fool of himself, he turned on his heel and began walking the other way, toward the stairs.

“Do we have time to eat before we go, General?” she called out, hurrying to catch up with him.

General. He cursed under his breath. What in blazes was she so formal about? He was the one who should be angry. He was angry!

“Do whatever you like,” he said without stopping. “I’ll be saddling the horses.”

“I would like to eat.”

He paused and turned to look at her as she reached his side. “Well rested and hungry are you, lady?”

She nodded. He arched his brow and wondered if it was too late to strangle her. “You smashed a vase into my skull. I’m glad you slept well and didn’t burden yourself with thoughts that you might have killed me.”

She blinked, giving reprieve from the cold frost of her eyes, but only for a moment. “Ye were treating me like a misbehaving child. Be thankful ye’re still alive.”

He wanted to strangle her and toss her out the nearest window.

“Do ye wish to apologize?” she had the boldness to ask him.

He smiled, refusing to show her how she affected him. “Forgive me.”

“Nae.” She quickened her steps and began to pass him. When she did, she tossed him another frosty look over her shoulder. “Knight.”