Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (18 page)

He swallowed a groan at the memory, his traitorous flesh responding as if it truly
did have a will of its own.

Think of something else,
he ordered. Something foul and unpleasant like rotting offal or bloated corpses the
day after a bloody battle.

I am in control. I will curb this plaguesome desire and it will trouble me no more.

As if determined to show him just how mistaken he was, his shaft gave a rebellious
little twitch.

This time he bit back a growl.

As for tonight, he didn’t know what was he going to do.

Acting the monk had been difficult enough, but now that he’d touched her, tasted her,
finding the willpower to resist was going to be all but impossible. Just sitting beside
her now was driving him mad.

If she had a nightmare and expected him to comfort her…

The lass would just have to sleep alone from now on, nightmares or no nightmares.
He was sorry if she was scared, but she’d have to find a way to manage. It was either
that or continue what they’d begun this morning.

The simmering hunger stirred afresh inside him, stretching to show it approved.

But it wasn’t that simple. He might not be sure exactly who she was—certainly not
the princess she claimed—but she wasn’t some low-class doxy either. She was well spoken
and clearly educated, brought up with good manners and a care for her reputation,
even if the usual strictures had been discarded because of circumstance and necessity.

She might have returned his kisses and caresses in bed this morning—and quite enthusiastically
as he recalled—but it didn’t make her any less innocent, any less a virgin. Claiming
Mercedes would mean having to pay a steep price, and that price, he realized, was
marriage. She was the kind of girl who deserved no less.

His hands tightened on the reins, and the horse slowed for a minute before Daniel
realized that he’d incorrectly signaled the animal. With a soft click of his tongue,
he urged the horse forward again.

I’m as daft as Mercedes,
he thought with a soft shake of his head.

What was he doing to even consider marrying a girl just so he could have his way with
her?—and a lost, half-mad girl he barely knew at that. Her identity was murky at best,
the extent of her dowry probably limited to the necklace that hung around her neck.
Yet a man could do worse.

Far, far worse.

As for affection, he liked her fine, when she wasn’t driving him to distraction.

But the whole idea was ludicrous and he was daft to even be entertaining it. He wasn’t
ready for the parson’s noose; that much was sure. He had years to go before he could
see himself with a wife and the bairns that would surely come after.

Later, once he finally made it home and knew what awaited him, once he’d had time
to settle in, only then would he think of taking a bride. When he did, she would be
of good Scottish stock, a lass who knew what to expect from the island life and who
wouldn’t complain if she had to spend her days in a drafty old house on the windswept
cliffs of Skye.

He stole a glance at Mercedes out of the corner of his eye and wondered what she would
think of his home. Would she appreciate the majesty of the land, savor the beauty
of the sea and the bounty it represented, or would she turn away, longing for more
southerly climes and more populous environs?

But whatever her opinion, it didn’t matter, since she would never see his home.

Kill him though it might, he would find a way not to touch her again. There would
be no repetition of the honeyed kisses they’d shared this morning, no further chance
to run his hands over her glorious curves and explore the depths of her feminine temptations.

To his relief, a small inn came into view in the distance. Giving the reins another
click, he sent the horse into a faster walk.

Mercedes followed Daniel out of the inn over an hour later, quietly relieved that
he seemed to have recovered his humor once more.

While the curricle had been made ready with a fresh horse, she and Daniel had taken
the opportunity to stretch their legs before retreating inside to share a light repast
in the inn’s only private parlor.

Daniel had broken the silence between them by sharing amusing stories that had quickly
eased her tension and put her quite in charity with him again by the end of the meal.

As for the intimacies they had shared that morning, neither of them made mention.
It was as if they had mutually agreed not to discuss their embrace, but instead to
continue on as though nothing important had happened.

And perhaps, for him, nothing had,
she mused.

Their meal concluded, she had accompanied Daniel outside into the inn yard. He had
just helped her back into the curricle when she saw him stiffen, a scowl darkening
his auburn brows. He was looking at something across the way, though she could not
tell what. Or who?

“What is it?” she asked, a faint tremor of unease sliding down her spine.

He stared for another long minute, then shook his head as he settled in the seat next
to her. “Nothing.” He took up the reins and smiled. “Ready?”

She turned her gaze back and studied the place where he had been looking, but saw
nothing of note.

Perhaps something had just temporarily caught his eye.

“Yes,” she said. “I am ready.”

Daniel resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder as they drove away. Only when
they reached the open road did he finally take a look.

The road was empty. No one was behind them; nothing was out of place. It was just
as he’d assured Mercedes.

Except his senses were telling him differently.

Maybe it was coincidence—many travelers followed the
same basic route—but just as he’d been ready to step up into the curricle, he’d seen
the man from last night—the rabbity one who’d been staring so intently at Mercedes.

The man hadn’t looked their way, hadn’t appeared to recognize or remember him, but
Daniel had the distinct impression he had been watching them. As Daniel had settled
into the carriage, the man had disappeared inside the inn.

That alone ought to have resolved his worries. But he’d learned long ago never to
discount instinct; sometimes instinct was all that stood between a man and his last
breath.

He drove for nearly half an hour, encouraging Mercedes to chat about her favorite
amusements and pastimes, while he kept alert for any kind of unexpected approach.
A large coach-and-four raced up behind them, but the driver blew his horn once, then
drove on past.

After that, the road cleared again. No sign of the rabbity man.

Still, Daniel’s hackles didn’t calm.

He knew this area, well enough to remember a path that veered off into less-traveled,
more mountainous territory. Turning onto the lane might take them longer, but it would
still get them where they needed to go. If the rabbity man was following them, he
soon would not be.

Flicking the reins, Daniel set the horse to a faster gait. A hill lay ahead that would
conceal their unexpected turn if there was indeed someone trailing them.

Coasting briskly around the curve ahead, Daniel saw the crossroad and made the turn
onto it.

Where in the bloody hell are they?
Smeek wondered as he stood in another inn yard nearly three hours later. He raked
a set of nervous fingers through his thinning hair, frowning as he tried to puzzle
it out.

He ought to have crossed paths with them again by now. A horse could only go so long
without water and rest, so they had to have stopped at this inn or the one before.

He supposed he should have kept them in full view at all
times, but the Scot had nearly twigged onto him back at that last inn and he hadn’t
wanted to risk being seen. He’d figured if he followed at a careful distance, but
not too far, he’d catch up to them once they stopped to eat and change horses.

But it was as if they’d vanished.

His fingers shook this time as he raked them through his hair again. The boss would
kill him for sure. Bleeding Christ, why had he ever sent that note saying he’d seen
’em in the first place? Now how was he going to explain that he’d lost them?

But it made no sense. He’d never been more than ten minutes behind. Maybe they’d traveled
faster than he’d thought and already gone on to the next inn.

That must be it, he decided with some relief.

They would have to stop for the night, so he’d find them on ahead.

And if he didn’t?

A shudder went through him and he fisted his meaty hands.

I’ll find ’em,
he promised himself.
I won’t stop lookin’ until I do.

“W
hat do you mean, we’re stuck?” Mercedes craned her head around to look at Daniel where
he stood near the rear of the curricle.

“I mean the axle is broken,” he said in a disgusted tone. “Snapped nearly in half
by the look of it.”

She remembered the curricle rolling over a particularly rough and rocky span of road
and the loud crack that had followed just before the wheels had started to shake unsteadily.

He bent down for another look, then straightened, muttering something unmistakably
profane, even if it was in a language she didn’t understand. “It’s for certain we
willna be going any farther today. Cheap piece of—”

He let loose another stream of Gaelic profanity.

She scanned their surroundings, taking in the unmistakable isolation of the landscape
with its colorful heather and majestic hills—beautiful but barren of human habitation.

“Well,” she declared with false cheer, “we shall simply have to wait for someone to
come along and help. There is bound to be a traveler or two.”

Though now that she considered, she couldn’t recall seeing so much as a coach or carriage
pass by for a very long
while. She recalled him turning off the main highway a few miles earlier, but had
thought little of it at the time.

“This isn’t the main road, is it?” she ventured.

He shot her a dark look, his brows drawn. “Nae.”

“Then why—”

“It seemed like a prudent decision at the time.” He looked as if he might say more
but changed his mind. He walked around to the driver’s side of the curricle. “We’ll
give it an hour.”

“Give
what
an hour?”

“Waiting.” He gave her an oblique look before leaning in to withdraw something from
beneath the seat.

It was a pistol.

When had he placed that there? But now, she decided, was not the time to ask.

“And after?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Then we’ll have to find a way to help ourselves,” he said.

She frowned, as gooseflesh sprang up on her arms. Suddenly anxious, she glanced around
in search of approaching danger but saw nothing out of the common way. “Do you really
think a weapon is necessary?”

He crossed to a nearby rock and sat. “It never hurts to take precautions. And I am
your bodyguard, after all.”

She nodded. “Yes, you are.”

And so much more,
she added.

So they sat, she in the relative comfort of the damaged curricle, while he made do
on the rock. The quiet stretched around them, so intense it almost seemed as though
the very air was breathing.

Since Daniel did not seem inclined toward conversation, she didn’t bother trying to
start one. Instead, she occupied herself as she had on other occasions by listening
for the rustling of tiny creatures in the brush and the occasional call of a songbird.

The minutes ticked past, the sun rising toward its zenith overhead.

When an hour, or what she assumed was an hour, had
passed, Daniel got to his feet. He walked to the curricle and stopped, reaching out
to her. “No one is coming, so we’ll have to find help on our own. Here, let me help
you down.”

She stood, expecting him to take her hand. Instead, he clasped her around the waist
and swung her easily to the ground.

Her pulse gave a frantic little flutter at his touch.

But the instant she was safe beside him, he released her and turned away to unfasten
the horse from the traces.

“We’ll only take a few necessities,” he stated, “so pick out what you’ll need for
the night.”

The night? Well, yes, she supposed it only made sense that there would not be enough
time for them to find help and return to the curricle before sunset.

Still, to leave her possessions. She had so few of them these days.

“B-but my new gowns,” she protested, realizing as she did how ridiculous the complaint
sounded. Still, after days spent wearing the itchy wool monstrosity, it seemed a crime
to abandon her new dresses. They were far from the height of fashion, but they were
soft and comfortable and that’s all that mattered just now. At least she would be
able to keep the one she had on now.

He arched a brow, his hands still busy with the leathers. “With luck, our belongings
will be here when we return. For now, we’ll take the horse and try to locate a crofter
who can give us shelter and a hand with repairing the curricle come morning.”