Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and Unrepentant\Return of the Prodigal Gilvry\A Traitor's Touch (53 page)

‘Don't you dare lay a hand on me, Simon Tremain. Come any closer and I swear I shall scream the house down.'

Simon's bold gaze continued to openly rake her body but, recognising the merits of restraint, he checked himself and advanced no further. His eyes passed over her with warm admiration. She sat low in the tub like a limp rag doll. Her arms were crossed over her chest to hide her breasts from him, even though they were submerged beneath the suds. His experience with the fair sex could not truthfully be termed lacking, yet it was hard in his mind that this delectable creature he had thought was a precocious lad, whom he now scrutinised so carefully, far exceeded anything he could call to mind, whether here or across the water in France. There was a graceful
naiveté
about her that totally intrigued him.

Bending down to her, he reached out his hand and gently cupped her chin, turning her face up to his. Now the grime had been washed away he studied her with fresh eyes. Feeling compelled and at liberty to look his fill, he felt his heart contract, not having grasped the full reality of her loveliness until that moment. The cropped, red-gold hair framed a creamy-skinned visage. The lips were soft and sensuous. She was remarkably lovely. Her beauty was at once wild and delicate—as dainty as sculpted porcelain, her expression full of caprice. But as he watched her, what struck him most was her innocence. Though her slanting, sparkling green eyes fringed by thick, black lashes hinted at untapped wantonness, he could feel the freshness of her spirit—a tangible force as golden as the highlights in her hair. She was the kind of woman who made a man want to fall on his knees at her feet or run like the devil.

His scorching perusal suddenly became too much for Henrietta. Hot, embarrassed colour stained her cheeks as he met her gaze with a querying, uplifted brow.

‘I would be obliged if you would please stop looking at me in that way. Anyone would think you hadn't seen a woman before. Your critical eye pares and inspects me as if I was a body on a dissecting slab.'

‘Does it?' Simon murmured absently, continuing to look at her, at the soft lips and glorious eyes.

Her flush deepened. ‘I have imperfections enough without you looking for more. Please stop it,' she demanded quietly. ‘You are being rude.'

‘Am I?' he said, his attention momentarily diverted from her enchanting face.

‘Yes. And if you persist I shall be forced to shout for Annie.'

Her words brought a slow, teasing smile to his lips and his strongly marked brows were slightly raised, his eyes suddenly glowing with humour. ‘I apologise. But I cannot help looking at you when for the past nine days I believed we were of the same gender.'

Hot-faced and perplexed, Henrietta almost retorted that she was not a rabbit in the sights of his gun, but she halted herself in time. She had never known a man to be so provoking. She was suddenly shy of him. There was something in his eyes that made her feel it was impossible to look at him. There was also something in his voice that brought so many new and conflicting themes in her heart and mind that she did not know how to speak to him.

The effect was a combination of fright and excitement and she must put an end to it. She was in danger of becoming hypnotised by that silken voice and those mesmerising blue eyes.

‘Are you quite sure I can't assist you with your bath?'

‘Quite sure,' she stated. ‘Now go away.'

A chuckle started low in his chest. ‘I should have given you a bath when I first met you.' Releasing her chin, he straightened up. ‘Come, enough wallowing in the suds. I've brought you a toddy. Drink it and I'll send Annie in to help you get dressed.'

‘I've a mind to wallow a while longer,' she answered in a voice dull with fatigue. ‘Could you pour that pitcher of warm water into my bath, please?' she asked, indicating the receptacle on the floor where Annie had left it. She squinted up at him as tiny runnels trickled through her lashes. ‘I would like to give my hair another wash.'

Simon did as she bade and poured the water into the tub, catching a glimpse of slender white limbs beneath the suds.

‘Be careful you don't burn yourself,' Henrietta patronisingly retorted when some of the water splashed his dry breeches.

‘I must learn to be cautious of wayward lads and pitchers of hot water,' he answered, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her remark.

He watched her rub an eye with bunched fingers, much like a child who found it hard to stay awake. ‘Are you quite certain I can't be of some assistance?' he persisted, his voice as soft as silk.

Henrietta felt a sudden quiver run through her, a sudden quickening within as if something came to life, something that had been asleep before. ‘No—thank you,' she replied quickly. ‘I think I can manage. Now go away and leave me alone. I will not get out until you have left the room.'

‘I'll not be far away.' A wicked smile crept over his lips. ‘Don't disappoint me, Henrietta,' he murmured, his eyes agleam with a very personal sort of challenge. ‘Don't tell me you're going to start behaving sensibly now.'

Henrietta stiffened at Simon's smooth taunting, but she could hardly take offence at his mild accusation after duping him into believing she was a youth.

As he was about to slip behind the screen he turned and looked at her once more. ‘If I don't see you again tonight, I must warn you that the old timbers creak and groan, so don't be alarmed if you hear anything untoward during the night. The house is called Barradine, by the way, and it belongs to me.'

With his gaze looking into her large, liquid, bright eyes, she was oblivious to the sight she presented to him. The pure, sweet bliss of her spurred his heart. She was too damned lovely to be true and he could not believe that he had not seen through her masquerade. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the bath, and her hair—all the wonderful shades of red and gold formed a cap of brilliant silk curls, with adorable damp tendrils clinging and curling around her face. The very sight of her wrenched his vitals in a painful knot, and the urge to go to her and pull her into his arms savaged his restraint. If she knew the full force of that emotion he held in check, she would tremble and take to the road on the morrow without him.

‘Sleep well, Henrietta. We have much to discuss in the morning.'

* * *

Henrietta's eyelids fluttered slowly open as the morning light intruded and roused her to awareness. The dark blue velvet bed hangings had been drawn back, allowing the light to penetrate her world. A cheerful fire crackled and danced in the hearth.

Henrietta elbowed herself up the bed and tucked the pillows behind her. A rattle of dishes came from outside the door, and she clutched the sheets beneath her chin as Annie entered the chamber, carrying a covered tray. Her face broke into a smile when she found the occupant of the bed awake and sitting up.

‘Oh, you're awake, I see.' The friendliness in her voice was as noticeable as the warmth in her eyes and smile. ‘His lordship said you would be tired after the journey and your ordeal in the storm yesterday and to leave you to sleep in.'

‘His lordship being Lord Tremain.'

‘Aye, miss. That's right.' Annie brought the tray to the bed and removed the cover to reveal a pot of tea and an appetising plate of ham and eggs and freshly baked bread and creamy butter. ‘You look like a young lady who could do with a hearty breakfast. You ate nothing when you arrived, so tuck in and enjoy it.'

‘I will. It looks delicious, Annie. I have to say I'm quite ravenous.'

‘Eat up then. I'll see to it that hot water is brought for you to wash and I've already laid out the clothes the master has provided.'

‘But—what has happened to the clothes I was wearing when I arrived?'

‘They're in the laundry, miss.'

‘I see,' Henrietta murmured cautiously, casting a dubious eye over the female clothes draped over a chair. ‘I—I would prefer to wear my own clothes if you don't mind, Annie.'

‘Oh, no, miss. The master was most firm about you dressing as a lady. When you're ready I'll come and help you.'

‘Thank you,' Henrietta conceded, reconciling herself to the
master's
orders. ‘Then until my own clothes are fit to wear, I shall be happy to wear them.'

‘That's good,' Annie said, still smiling as she went out.

* * *

When she had eaten, hearing the clatter of horses' hooves on the cobbles in the yard below her window, Henrietta went to look. There were half a dozen gentlemen, all finely garbed, all on horseback and wearing expressions of intent. Where they came from Henrietta did not know, but they entered Barradine with a purpose. It was all very mysterious and as usual Henrietta's curiosity got the better of her.

She turned her attention to the clothes laid out, surprised to find them remarkably grand. The undergarments were very fine, the gown apple-green damask trimmed at the hem with gold embroidery. A light grey shawl and a pair of dark green slippers completed the outfit.

Her pleasure as she donned the dress was truly feminine. Before leaving the room she looked in the mirror and contemplated herself with some satisfaction. The dress might have been made for her. The bodice sat well on her slender waist and the colour emphasised the gold highlights in her hair. Draping the shawl about her shoulders, she pirouetted lightly and made for the door.

She moved silently along the passageway to the top of the stairs, where she paused, standing in the shadows and looking down. The men were huddled together near the huge stone hearth, their worried looks and urgent conversation presaging some bad news. It had been declared that Charles Stuart, the son of the man James Stuart, who had named him Regent, giving him permission to act in his name, had been declared a rebel, a traitor, and a public enemy to the Commonwealth and of England, along with the abettors, agents and accomplices and public enemies.

‘What do you make of it?' Simon asked from within their midst. ‘Tell me what you know. Will it come to a battle?'

‘Aye, I reckon it will,' was one answer. ‘Against long odds and with the support of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, an army has been raised which numbers almost two thousand Scots. Sir John Cope, the general commanding the government forces in Scotland, commands less than four thousand in two regiments. He's beset with problems.'

‘Which are?'

‘His senior cavalry officer has taken sick and he has a lack of gunners to man his artillery. Acting on advice from the government, Cope marched with his infantry to Fort Augustus in an attempt to overawe the Highland clans and nip any rebellion in the bud.'

‘And how have the clans reacted?' Henrietta heard Simon ask.

‘Many are evading calls to take up arms on behalf of the government. Our agents have reported that on hearing Charles Stuart is preparing to oppose Cope at Corryarrack, Cope's turned about and is now marching on Inverness.'

‘And the prince?'

‘He considered pursuing Cope, but instead he's decided to march into the Lowlands, which Cope has left almost undefended. The last I heard was that he's reached Perth.'

‘Then I'll know where to find him when I ride north.' He looked around at the faces of the men. ‘What will you do if it comes to conflict? Will you take up arms against King George?'

‘It's not that I mind risking my life,' said the man who had done most of the talking. ‘But if we fail and are captured, they will take my house and land, and I'll not be there to protect my family.'

‘It's the same for all of us,' came a gruff reply. ‘But if we don't do it now, the opportunity to bring the Bonnie Prince to his rightful place may never come again.'

‘Then let's pray the conflict ends with Charles on the throne and it doesn't come to such a pass.'

Henrietta stood in the shadows as the men began to disperse. She felt numb and then consumed by panic, as her mind went over what had been said. If, as she intended, she continued on her journey to Inverness, then it was inevitable that she would come into contact with the government army.

* * *

The big case clock in the great hall was striking ten o'clock when she went down the curved oak stairs. Glancing at the windows, she saw the heavy clouds loitering overhead heralded more rain. Simon stood close to the hearth where a fire blazed, taking off the dank chill. In repose his expression was tense as he considered the information brought to him earlier.

Displaying a calm she did not feel, Henrietta studied him surreptitiously as he watched her walk across the hall towards him. A world of feelings flashed for an instant across his set features when their eyes locked, but it was the expression of immense concern Henrietta saw that touched her the most, replaced at once by one of polite enquiry. His long, muscular frame was attired in the clothes he had been wearing the night before. He had the look of an adventurer and appeared most worldly, yet his whole body was tensed into a rigid line, as if he fought some private battle within himself.

Despite the days they had spent on the road together, it was like coming face to face with a stranger. Now her masquerade had been stripped away their attitudes towards each other had changed completely and it concerned her, especially when those thoroughly blue eyes searched her own. She had not realised how brilliant and clear they were. In some mystical way they seemed capable of stripping the lies from whatever had passed before. It was all she could do to face his unspoken challenge and not retreat to the safety of her room.

Chapter Four

S
imon watched Henrietta approach. Ever since he had left her he had tried not to think of her and to concentrate on the arrival of the men he had arranged to liaise with here at Barradine, but now he became consumed with anxiety and was unable to think of anything other than what he was to do with this young woman who had insinuated herself into his life and threatened to disrupt it.

Last night when she had revealed her true sex he had been taken unawares and his sudden passion for her had been torn asunder by guilt and his conscience. He had lain awake almost the entire night. He could not stop thinking about her. When he shut his eyes she was there and when he opened them she stayed with him. Such sleeplessness was unusual for him. He rather hoped that in daylight she might not be as he remembered.

He was mildly irritated with himself. He certainly did not need his life complicated by a woman. Perhaps the half light of the moment of her bathing had helped create a fantasy—but it wasn't so. In daylight her charm seemed all the greater.

Nothing was more obvious to Henrietta at that moment than those eyes that immediately took in every detail of her appearance. The clothes he had instructed Annie to pick out for her to wear belonged to his mother. The dress was a perfect fit and, as slender as she was, Henrietta was not without womanly curves. She was a sight that caused his heart to lurch in admiration and something else that appealed to his baser instincts.

He must stop now, before things went too far for him to draw back. Because she was not the kind of sophisticated, worldly woman he usually sought it made her more alluring, more desirable. She was nothing like the glamorous, experienced women who knew how to please him, women who were mercenary and hell-bent on self-gratification, whose beds he sought only to leave the moment his ardour was spent.

It could not continue. In the past hard logic and cold reason had always conquered his lust—with Henrietta he knew it would be different. He had to purge her out of his mind before he was completely beaten—and if he continued to have her near him he would lose the battle. He was in danger of becoming enamoured of her and he would not permit that. The stakes were too high.

He tried to concentrate on the next stage of his journey, but in his state of relaxed ease he was more inclined to dwell on the amazing—and perverse—quirk of fate that had caused this girl to be ensconced in his house. It would have been far better if he were alone, but now that she was here he couldn't just ignore her and pretend she wasn't there.

‘Thank you for the clothes,' Henrietta said. ‘Who do they belong to?'

‘My mother, but don't concern yourself. I know she would be happy for you to wear them.' He pulled two chairs close to the hearth. ‘Come and sit down. We need to talk.' Silently she did as he bade, sitting awkwardly on the edge of her seat. He raised one brow in enquiry. ‘How are you feeling this morning? Better, I hope?' he said, sitting across from her and lounging with one booted foot resting casually atop the opposite knee.

‘Yes—much better.' He nodded, which left Henrietta wondering why he was adopting this cool, remote attitude to her. Was it possible he was ashamed of the way he had behaved towards her when he had intruded on her bathing, or was his desire for her so great that he couldn't bear to be close to her? Despite the complications it would bring, she secretly hoped it was the latter, but the way he was looking at her made her discount it. Her eyes met his.

‘You said you want to talk, Simon? I think I know what it's about. I suspect you want me off your hands and deeply regret encumbering yourself with me in the first place.'

Henrietta expected the words to get a reaction, but except for a hardening of his eyes and a muscle that began to twitch in his jaw, there was none.

‘What is done is done and I have to consider what sensible action to take. One thing is certain—you cannot continue on your journey alone and where I am going I cannot take you with me.'

‘So you are to dismiss me as though I am an untouchable.'

Untouchable,
Simon thought wretchedly. She was certainly that and must remain that way. While ever they remained in the same house she was too much of a threat to his sanity. Everywhere he turned she would be there to ensnare him and when she was absent his need to see her would make him seek her out. He was furious with himself for feeling like this—for wanting her. He'd never realised that sexual desire for a woman would become a complication. Better that they were apart altogether, before she disrupted his whole life.

‘Not at all. Despite not knowing anything about you, I feel a deep sense of responsibility which cannot be easily dismissed. Which is why I think the sensible thing would be for you to remain at Barradine for the time being.'

Henrietta could hear the determination in his voice that told her he had already decided what to do with her. But she would have none of it. She stared at him for a long, indecisive moment, then she said, ‘I will do no such thing. You may have given me your protection on the journey and I am indeed grateful—in fact, you just might have saved my life. But that does not give you the right to have a say in what I shall do next. I do not wish to be kept by you, or by any other man. I am fairly self-sufficient and I prefer it that way.'

‘Good Lord, Henrietta, I'm not asking you to become my mistress. I just feel obligated—'

‘You needn't,' she interrupted coolly. ‘You owe me nothing, and I will take nothing from you, Simon, and you need not feel any responsibility towards me. I embarked on this journey knowing what I was taking on. What happens next is up to me, not you. I thank you for your protection since we met—and your hospitality,' she said with the polite cordiality of a guest who was about to depart. ‘I have enjoyed your company and now I must continue on my journey north.'

Suddenly Simon looked at her with unexpected softness. Surprised by the change in his expression, Henrietta opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her and, taking a deep breath, continued speaking. ‘You cannot go alone, Henrietta. You must stop and think of the hazards that may arise. At this time there are government soldiers all over the place. You will never make it on your own.'

Henrietta's face was a pale, emotionless mask as she tore her eyes from his face and watched the dancing flames in the hearth. Her heart and mind felt empty and she was chilled to the marrow. Even now, when she was desperate with the thought of leaving him, she had to ask herself why it should hurt so much and to question what was in her heart.

‘Yes, I will. I must.'

‘You were set upon by ruffians at your first stop, you little fool. Did you not realise what they might do? Look at you.' He swept a gesture from her feet to her head, scowling crossly. ‘By all intents and purposes you were a lad—on a fine horse, I might add. They could have gutted you like a fish if they'd a mind and stolen your horse. And good God, Henrietta—do you know what would have happened to you had they discovered your true gender? Have I not enough to contend with already without having to protect and coddle a young woman?'

Henrietta bristled at the insult. ‘I haven't held you back so far and I'm hardly likely to do so now that you've found out I'm a woman. But if you find the influence of my gender and so much beauty and femininity elevating to your moral sense, then accept that we must go our separate ways and I will make my own way from here on.'

‘Damn it, Henrietta!' he said fiercely, springing to his feet with frustration and combing his fingers through his hair. ‘Your change from youth to capricious female is the greatest stumbling block I have ever encountered.'

‘You may blame it on my Scottish blood, Simon. 'Tis strong-willed and usually gets the upper hand despite my very best efforts to cool it.'

He glared down at her. ‘That I can believe, but I feel most deeply the burden of your present distress and accept that it is in the greater part my fault. I brought you with me only with the kindest intent and because I thought you were well in need of my attention and protection. I am hardly likely to abandon you now. If the rising and ensuing battle become a reality, if things go badly for us and the English come looking, do you think that I value my own miserable hide so much that I'd leave you to be slaughtered like the Holy Lamb?' His voice softened and hurt darkened his blue eyes. ‘Do you not know me better than that?'

He looked at her sitting stiff and proud, her fine-boned profile tilted obstinately to betray her mutinous thoughts. Not for the first time he wondered at her life that she had been forced to take to the road. Turning her head, she met his gaze. He saw youthful guile in those beautiful green eyes, like the colour of a tropical sea. He could sit and look into them and drown himself, going ever deeper and deeper. With a jerk he pulled himself back and looked away. He could not help but wonder at the grit of this young woman. He had known no other quite like her and the disturbing fact was that she seemed capable of disrupting his whole life.

Contritely the young girl hung her head. ‘I know you well enough, Simon, but I thought...perhaps...you'd want rid of me now we've reached Scotland.'

Simon drew up his chair and sat across from her once more. A frisson of excitement was like a plucked lute string in the silence between them. The great hall seemed smaller, the firelight more richly golden as it played over his wary face, sculpting its hard planes and sharp contours.

‘I failed to offer you commiserations on the death of your guardians,' he said suddenly. ‘Forgive my lack of manners.'

‘Think nothing of it,' she said graciously. ‘I'm sure they would be most obliged to you for offering me your protection on my journey north.'

He sighed, steepling his fingers in front of his face, watching her. ‘I know now that you are a girl dressed as a boy. I know not your reasons, nor do I particularly wish to know. Suffice it to say that it is your business, not mine. But I sense you are in trouble and perceive you need to talk to someone. If I can be of assistance in any way, I would like you to tell me why you're running away.'

Henrietta met his gaze, tension in the angle of her shoulders. ‘Why should you care? You have troubles enough of your own with the arrival of the Bonnie Prince to concern yourself with mine.'

‘True, but it so happens I have experience with these things.' He paused. ‘Generally, I've found that running away is a very bad idea.'

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Did you run away from home?'

He grinned and nodded. ‘When I was a lad—five years old, to be precise—one day I packed a bag with clothes and food and set off for Edinburgh. I'd been told what a big town it was with a grand castle on a rock. I wanted to see it for myself. I didn't get far before my father caught up with me. By that time I was very cold and very scared—and regretting my foolishness. So trust me. I wouldn't recommend it.'

Henrietta glanced at him, uncertain about what to say.

Simon could sense the suppressed agitation in her, noted her clenched hands. ‘You can speak freely. It will go no further. It may not resolve anything, but it will make you feel a damn sight better.'

Conscious of his scrutiny, suddenly agitated, Henrietta got to her feet. ‘How can you be so sure of that?'

‘I'm not, but it can't do any harm.'

Henrietta looked at him long and hard before turning away, wrapping her arms about her waist as if to contain the horrors of what she knew Jeremy to be guilty of. Simon was right. It would be a relief to reduce her overburdened mind, for no matter how she tried to push the memories and the danger Jeremy posed to her away, they returned. Still she hesitated, but she was beginning to realise that it was important to unburden herself to Simon, who would listen and maybe offer a solution to her problem. In the end she turned to confront him, and a flicker of sanity lit the chaos of her thoughts.

‘I know you are right, Simon. I should tell you. I owe you that, at least.' Henrietta held his eyes a moment, then her gaze slid away. Drawing a deep breath, she let it out harshly. ‘It's difficult to know where to begin.'

Simon settled himself in his chair, crossing his legs, watching her calmly, his heart going out to her. ‘When your guardians died would be as good a place as any,' he suggested quietly.

She paused, and, although Simon appeared calm, he waited in a state of nervous tension for her to go on, relieved when she did, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking into the flames, as if the images of the past were marching with each dancing flame. She recounted everything that had occurred on the night Jeremy had come to the house—the misunderstanding about the wills, his bullying and the threats he had made.

Wringing her hands in front of her, she turned away and hugged herself again. Watching her, Simon listened with avid interest, clenching his hands into fists, having to struggle to stop himself going to her and cradling her in his arms. When she told him of the tragedy which had robbed her of her guardians, that it had not been an accident as everyone surmised and that Jeremy was responsible, her voice tore through him. Her face was ravaged, but he couldn't make it easier for her. He had to let her go on. But how alone she must have felt, how terrified when faced with the daunting journey ahead of her.

As the full implication of what she was telling him began to sink in, he saw the truth at last, along with all the fear and horror locked away inside her since that night.

‘At that time neither Jeremy nor Mr Braithwaite were cognizant of the fact that his uncle had drafted a new will. Mr Braithwaite was abroad at the time and had only recently returned to London when the tragedy occurred. I discovered the truth about what happened when I overheard Jeremy discussing with his wife how he had killed his aunt and uncle. Fearing for my own life, I knew I had to get away. It was a matter of personal survival. By now Jeremy will have discovered the truth and he will plan to kill me as soon as it's convenient.'