Stuart, Elizabeth (10 page)

"You
think I'm being ridiculous, don't you? A foolish, fanciful woman?"

"No."
He took another drink. "Had you ever seen a man die before today,
Jonet?"

She
shook her head. "I've helped some with the sick, but my uncle always sent
me away whenever any at Beryl were near death. And then when I saw them again,
they were all laid out so... so peacefully." A shudder ran through her.
"Not like today at all."

"Sometimes
it's peaceful," he said quietly. "Most times it's not. Only God in
his heaven knows what it'll be like for us. Or when. Don't fret yourself
worrying before it's time."

She
chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip, gathering courage. "Alex, what do
you think my uncle's chances are of getting to France? Honestly."

He
was silent so long she doubted he was going to answer. "Not good,
lass," he responded at last. "Not good at all."

She
tried to protest and couldn't. Closing her eyes, she turned her face into his
shoulder. She had asked for the truth and gotten it. And as the very real
possibility of a life without Robert Maxwell dawned, she realized that she
wished he had lied.

Alexander's
hand caressed the nape of her neck, touched her ear, toyed with her hair.
"You never know how a thing will come out, Jonet," he began.
"Sometimes even the best laid plans come to ruin due to an unexpected
hitch. And then again the wildest start may come off. The odds don't always
play out. And sometimes... sometimes," he added quietly, "the most
unexpected things come to pass."

His
hand slid to her chin, forcing her head up. "Live for the moment,
lass," he whispered. "Don't squander the hours looking behind or
ahead."

And
for the second time in one day, Jonet realized she was about to be kissed.

His
thumb traced her lips gently, his eyes darkening to tiny pinpoints in the
shadows. "You're so very young," he whispered. "And lovely... a
very damnable combination a saint couldn't resist. I don't plan even to
try."

His
praise was balm to her wounded soul, his arms a comfort. And he was right. She
was thankful to be alive this moment, thankful to be with him now. She closed
her eyes, giving herself up to the anticipation of his kiss.

Alexander's
arm tightened about her, his mouth seeking hers. His lips were warm, his tongue
gliding sensually along the soft barrier of her closed lips. And as her mouth
relaxed instinctively, his tongue slipped inside, exploring, touching, stroking
in the most exquisite sensation she had ever experienced.

The
kiss was slow and hot and incredibly thorough. The realization dawned that she
only thought she'd been kissed before. Alexander was obviously an expert at
what he was doing. And what he was doing now was as different from this
afternoon as midnight from midday.

A
shivering anticipation washed through her, a slow heat that seemed to be
spiraling up from her toes. Expertly he led her to join him, expertly he taught
her this new and erotic play. Her mouth began moving with his, learning his
taste, discovering his texture. Her tongue touched the tip of his, played
against it, sucked at it, then slid into his mouth. And with all her newly
awakened instincts, she sensed somehow she had pleased him.

He
drew her more closely, molding her against him, kissing her with a building
heat, an increasing urgency. Her hands sought his chest, felt the warm, smooth
play of solid muscle. Her fingers stretched then clenched in a reflexive,
involuntary movement, and she discovered she was leaning into him, her hands
shamelessly clutching his shoulders, the curve of his neck.

The
kiss continued, deep and hungry and hot, as if they had been anticipating this
moment, as if they had known somehow it was coming. His hands slid down her
sides, grazing the swell of her breasts, stroking back upward, lingering,
learning her body with an easy, unhurried thoroughness that should have shamed
her... but didn't.

Jonet
was melting, slipping away, too absorbed by the heady sensations even to think.
And when Alexander left off kissing her at last, she was shaken and breathless
and acutely embarrassed by her own eager response. She wanted more.

Struggling
for composure, she pushed slightly away. "If that's lesson three, Alex,
then you'd best not go on. I'm not sure, but I think I'm more like to be hysterical
now than before—though for a vastly different reason."

His
deep, throaty chuckle warmed the night. "And do you find kissing that much
to your taste, lass?" he asked lazily. "For my part, I'd say you're a
natural."

Her
heart was just beginning to slow, her stampeding pulses to quiet. He must know
she'd been shaken to the core. "Well..." She drew a deep breath.
"I like it better than killing people, I'd say."

"Really,
now. Should I be flattered?"

"Oh,
indeed." She straightened up and away from him, deciding she'd best change
the subject. "And contrary to your words a moment ago, I'm actually quite
old. Eighteen. Almost a spinster. I—"

"I
wasn't talking of years, lass."

The
words rankled. Especially after that kiss. She had no experience at this, no
personal knowledge of what men and women did or didn't do. And for the first
time in her life she wished she had. She wished she had shaken him to his
boots, shaken him as he had her. "And what are you?" she asked
flippantly. "Twenty-four going on forty?"

"Aye.
Five and twenty almost. But tonight I feel sixty at least."

"Well,
Alex, you move quite well for an old man. Perhaps you can save the walking
stick for another year."

At
that he broke down in helpless laughter. "Jonet, lass, be-fore God, I
swear I'll miss you."

The
words caught her unprepared. She tried to smile, and couldn't. She was going to
miss him too, far more than she could ever admit, far more than a mere
acquaintance of three days should warrant. "Oh? Should I be
flattered?"

He
reached for her, catching her shoulders between both hands. "Oh,
indeed," he whispered, letting his fingers slide down her arms.
"There's only one woman whose companionship I've ever truly missed. And in
a markedly different fashion, I assure you."

At
the warm feel of his hands, a shivering weakness swept her. Her heart began to
hammer once more, her breathing to quicken. Damn him for his effect on her. And
his obvious knowledge of it.

All
at once she felt young and vulnerable and very unsure. And one thing she knew:
She hated that woman beyond all reason. "Well, perhaps you'd best go find
her," she said coolly. "I'd hate to think of you languishing away for
want of an experienced companion."

"Well,
I suppose I could. She is in England," he said softly. "But then it's
not my mother's companionship I'm wanting tonight." He bent toward her.
"And there's but one way to remedy a lack of experience, lass."

Suddenly
she couldn't stand it. She couldn't keep up this pretense of lightness, this
cool unconcern. She was vastly out of her depth and well aware that he knew it.
And she hadn't the remotest idea what to do next. "Don't, Alex," she
whispered, turning away. "Don't make fun of me."

"There
is nothing about you, lass, that a man could make fun of. Even if he wanted
to."

"You
did at first. At Durnam."

"I
didn't know you then." His fingers caught in her hair, turning her gently
toward him. "I ridiculed what I thought you were, because I thought you
would ridicule me. I'm used to striking first, Jonet. It's the way I survived
my youth." He hesitated. "Only now, lass," he said, drawing a
deep breath, "now I'm just trying to keep from frightening you half out of
your wits when I tell you I want to make love to you."

Her
soft "Oh," of surprise slid away on the night breeze. Alexander leaned
toward her, their mouths touching, parting, touching again, lingering for a
kiss of such sweetness the whole world seemed to fade.

His
arms went around her, drawing her close. The single evening star dipped and
shifted, and she realized Alexander had eased her down onto the blanket. He
moved against her, his weight covering her, warming her, familiarizing her with
the hard, intimate feel of his body. His mouth left hers, trailing along her
throat to nuzzle, suckle, at the soft hollow beneath her chin.

Her
skin began to tingle, her breasts to ache. That familiar tightening began in
the lower reaches of her body. It was a feeling she took to be equal parts
fear, expectancy, and a deep aching awareness he could create with no more than
a touch. A feeling she wished she'd not learned. "Alex, I... I don't know
about this."

His
breath was warm against her flesh, sending tiny tendrils of sensation curling
downward into her groin. "Let me love you, Jonet," he murmured.
"Let me love you... just a little. We're not like to have another
chance."

He
was right. In a few days she would be sailing away with Robert... if they were
lucky. If they weren't, she was apt to find herself coping with hundreds of
angry Douglases. In any case, Alexander wasn't a part of her immediate future.

He
had lifted his head, but his face was impossible to read in the darkness. She
reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, slipping her fingers through his thick
hair, memorizing the firm contours, the contrasting textures.

It
was pleasure to touch him, a powerful, dangerous pleasure. She was surprised by
her desire to make the touching go on and on. "A little, Alex? Wouldn't
that make it harder? I've only known you three days, but I fear I'm going to
miss you a great deal too much already. Ridiculous, isn't it, but any more of
this and the parting would be unbearable. At least for me."

She
smiled ruefully. "Besides, even as a wee lass I was a greedy soul. One
taste of cook's pudding and I wanted the whole thing."

For
several moments he didn't speak. She could hear the irregular sound of his
breathing, could feel the tension in the lean, masculine body pressed against
hers. She couldn't know how it was for him, but half of her wanted desperately
to be overruled. She'd never known anything like this, probably never would
again. She wanted him to go on kissing her, touching her like he had.

The
other half realized that if he did, she would be lost body and soul.

"I
was wrong, Jonet Maxwell, you're not young at all. You've all the wisdom of the
ages," he breathed softly.

He
swung to a sitting position, fumbling in the dark for the abandoned flask of
aqua vitae. Jerking off the top, he took a long drink. "And I'm an
unconscionable bastard. Don't ever believe me if I try to tell you
differently."

Jonet
took a deep breath. Something told her she'd been treading the brink of a
precipice, that somehow she'd had the good sense to step back from the edge.
She didn't know whether to be thankful or sorry and settled for a great deal of
both.

She
held a hand out for the flask. "I'll take some of that," she said
softly. "And if you're an unconscionable bastard, Alexander Hepburn, I
only wish I'd known more in my life."

"Jonet."

Jonet
stirred sleepily and opened her eyes. All was darkness about her and for one terrifying
moment she was engulfed by the blackness with no idea where she was.

"I'm
sorry to wake you, lass, but it'll soon be midnight. We'd best ride on."

Alexander.

The
instant tension in her body dissolved and she made a half roll, coming up
against him. She closed her eyes again, relishing the warmth, the feeling of
relief that swept over her as her body made contact with his.

"Jonet."

"I
know," she mumbled, still half-asleep. "We have to ride. Just give me
a minute more of this. It's the first time I've felt comfortable in a
week."

"Comfortable?
I'm not sure, but I think I've just been insulted!"

Jonet
gave a drowsy chuckle and Alexander fell silent. One arm edged under her,
pillowing her on his shoulder. The feeling was heaven, more so in its reassurance
that Alexander wasn't angry about what had happened—or rather what hadn't
happened between them a few hours ago. "Hmm..." She sighed. "I
could lie here without moving for a fortnight."

"A
few more hours, at least," he agreed. "But we've a long night ahead
of us yet and we'd best be getting on."

Still,
he made no effort to move and they lay for a while in silence, listening to the
night. A few yards away the hobbled horses grazed, snapping off the grass with
short, rhythmic sounds.

It
was wonderful lying here in his arms, her body surrounded by his. It felt right
somehow, and she couldn't believe for a moment that this was a sin.

Her
thoughts strayed back to the hours before, to the way he had kissed her,
touched her, to the way he had made her feel. He had wanted her then and made
no secret of it. She was woman enough to feel a thrill she had stirred him, but
wise enough to set little store by it. He might have responded to any female in
the same situation.

And
she was lucky, damnably lucky. Despite what everyone said, Alexander Hepburn
was an honorable man. She knew it now beyond doubt.

They
had eaten the cold food in an uneasy quiet and washed it down with the icy fire
of the brandy. She wasn't sure just how they had come to share their blankets
against the chill—by wordless agreement, more or less. And with Alex bedded
down a scant few inches away, she was amazed she could contemplate sleeping.
But as sleep-starved and bone-weary as she was, she had closed her eyes and
slept like the dead. She wondered if he had as well.

He
shifted, preparing to move, but she wasn't quite ready to let it go. They might
never again be together like this, and she couldn't let it end. Not yet.
"Alex, wait! I've something to ask," she blurted out. "You've
been honest with me. Even with things I didn't want to hear. Now I find myself
wondering about something and... and I can't think how to find out except to
ask."

His
arm shifted about her, his hand gently massaging the stiffness from her
shoulders. "Then I suppose you'd best ask," he responded calmly.

"Well..."
She drew a deep breath. "If Robert and I do get to France, we'll probably
be coming home before long. I mean, the French don't want Scotland an English
puppet any more than we do. It would be simple enough to bring Albany back as
regent with that army they've promised us more than once. Angus couldn't hold
out against the Scots he's alienated and the French. He'd have to step down and
then everything could get back to normal."

She
hesitated, fearing she was sounding like a fool, daring to anyway. "What
I'm wondering is, if all that happened..." She hesitated again. "Do
you think we would see each other again?"

His
hand stilled its comforting movement. "You've solved all Scotland's
problems in an instant, Jonet. I doubt it will be so easy. We'd best let events
take their course and see how we stand at the end."

"But
if it is?" she persisted. "If it is that easy. Would you... would you
wish to see me?"

He
didn't answer and she felt a sudden fear. "Alex, I... I'd really rather
know."

"Do
you realize that's the second time you've said those words to me, lass?"
he asked quietly. "The first was just two days ago when you feared I might
kill you. Doesn't that memory give you pause? It should, Jonet. You really know
very little about me."

He
hadn't answered her question. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her
stomach. She'd been more foolish than she wanted to admit, reading far too much
into a few easy kisses. "Very well, Alex, you needn't answer," she
murmured. "I should never have asked. But you'll have to remember, I'm new
to all this. I suppose I've just learned one of the most important rules."

She
tried to sit up, but he wouldn't release her. Her cheeks flushed with
embarrassment. "Alex, please, I understand how it is. Really, I do. Let's
both just forget this and leave well enough alone."

"No,
you don't understand," he remarked, still holding her. "Sometimes the
questions you ask aren't the ones I hear. I may be thinking of others far down
the line. Yes, I'd want to see you, lass. But it's not going to be as easy as
you're hoping, and there will be more people involved than just you and I. And
once you're back to the real world, Jonet, you may find you've no wish to see
me."

She
was concentrating all her attention, instinct warning he explained something
beyond mere words. "But of course I'll want to see you. What on earth do
you mean?"

"Only
that there will be other people, other factors to consider. We'll be reaching
Lord Mure tomorrow." He hesitated. "At least I assume we will from
what little you've said. You care a great deal for him, don't you?"

So
he feared her uncle. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Certainly, I love my
uncle. More than anyone else on this earth. But he's a fair man, Alex. He would
hear you out if you..." She stumbled, not knowing how to end the sentence,
how to name what had happened between them. "If you wished to call,"
she finished lamely.

"Would
he now?"

She
didn't like the chill that had entered his voice. "Yes, he would,"
she insisted. "I know he doesn't like the English and I know you're half
English, Alex, but he'll be so grateful he'll overlook that."

A
ripple of cynical laughter sounded. "If by some miracle he keeps his head
and regains his earldom, Jonet, and if I were foolish enough to show up at
Beryl, he'd most likely have me run through on sight."

Jonet
hesitated. There was something more here than she'd realized. "Have you
met my uncle?" she asked, wishing she'd had the wit to ask the question
two days ago.

"Once,
lass, and that once was enough. He's not exactly endeared himself to me."

She
gave a fleeting thought to the scene her uncle must have made. He was a proud
man who loved Scotland more than his own good. He would waste little courtesy
on a man he thought was working for the English. It must have been a
humiliating exchange for Alexander. "Then why are you helping me?"
she asked in a small voice.

"The
reward. I told you that before." His arm tightened around her, one hand
lifting to toy with her hair. "And because I've little desire to see you
fall victim to Murdoch Douglas," he added softly. "I confess to
varying sentiments where members of your house are concerned."

"Oh."
A tingle slid down her scalp, following the track of his fingers. She allowed
herself a single, thrilling memory of the feel of his mouth on her throat, of
his hand against her breast. "Then you would want to see me," she
whispered triumphantly.

"Aye,
lass, that I would. But that's for tomorrow or the day after or several
tomorrows after that." Releasing her abruptly, he rose on one elbow.
"This is the real world, lass. It doesn't twist itself about just to cause
happy endings. I've learned the truth of that well enough."

She
knew he was right. But something told her it wouldn't be that way for them,
that they could make it different if only they tried. Acting on an impulse that
startled even herself, she rose and pressed her mouth against his.

For
the space of a heartbeat, Alexander went totally still. Then his hands dug into
her shoulders, slid reflexively down her back, urging her body so closely she
could feel the heat of him against every straining inch. His mouth slanted
across hers, kissing her hungrily, and she responded in the same kind, dead to
every feeling save the overwhelming need to know the warmth and smell and taste
of him again, to imagine how it might be to belong to him.

And
when he left off kissing her, he held her away, his grip painful. "Jonet,
give up on this mad idea of joining your uncle! It's too dangerous. Name of
God, lass, don't you know I regret bringing you into this! I've near got you
killed at least twice."

Jonet's
head was spinning, her mouth branded with the hot, wild excitement of his. It
took a moment for the words to register. "Give up on joining my uncle?
But, Alex, we're so close! Besides, you didn't bring me into this. I persuaded
you. You've nothing to regret."

He
brushed the words aside as if she hadn't spoken. "Let me take you to some
friends of mine, Jonet. You'd be safe there. The Douglases couldn't touch you.
You'd have all the time you needed to decide what to do."

Such
was the feeling between them that, for a moment, she was almost tempted. To
stop this endless riding, to stay in a real house, sleep for more than a couple
of hours at a stretch...
to
continue seeing Alexander.

But
Robert might be disheartened by now, perhaps even ill from living in the open.
The thought made her frantic and she was ashamed she had wavered. "No,
Alex, my uncle may need me. And if Duncan didn't get through, he'll need the
jewelry I'm carrying to buy passage to France."

"Tell
me where he is, lass. I'll get it through," Alexander whispered. "A
few more hours of hard riding and we'll be nearing Angus's eastern holdings.
There's less forest, a great deal more open moorland. It's too dangerous for you,
Jonet."

"But
that's where we have to go." She grinned triumphantly. "To Angus's
land."

"Sweet
Jesu!" he breathed. "So that's where he is." He straightened,
releasing her abruptly. Even in the darkness, she could sense his withdrawal.
"I'd never have believed Mure so canny. No wonder they couldn't find him.
No one would search for the hare in the hound's own kennel."

She
nodded. "And it's near the coast. Once friends make contact with a French
ship, he can be on his way to safety." She caught his arm in excitement.
"You see, we can do it, Alex. If he's still there, if he hasn't been
found, between us we can still make it happen!"

"Perhaps
we can," he said softly. "But you should let me handle it."

She
shook her head. "I can't, Alex. He'll need me to take care of him, to make
him comfortable. I always have, especially since Anne died. There'll be time
for us later if—" She glanced down. "If you still wish to see
me."

For
several seconds Alexander didn't speak. Then, "It'll be your choice,
Jonet. I've told you that. Just remember it when the time comes."

She
smiled, wondering at his grim tone. "Then I'll be pleased to welcome you
to Beryl Castle, my lord Hepburn. And I'll hope to see a great deal of you
there."

***

They
rode on through the night with the moon overhead for a lantern and the wild
moor grass for a road. The wind sighed a melancholy dirge through the pines and
the stars spun a splintering trail of silver across the dark sky.

Jonet
should have been too exhausted to sit her mount, but her heart was light, and
she knew she had never been happier. Of course, Alexander was right. There was
danger still and a score of obstacles in their path, but on this night she felt
she could pass through hell itself and succeed.

Hadn't
they outfoxed the Douglases, outrun the soldiers, and fought and killed outlaws
who would have killed them? Hadn't they been thrown together by fate, a man and
woman who would never even have met if their worlds hadn't collided?

It
was ridiculous to think of anything serious. They'd only known each other three
days. Still, those three days had been a lifetime, and she couldn't help it if
Alexander had gone a long way toward stealing her heart.

She
smiled ruefully. Actually, she didn't want to help it. She didn't want to help
it at all.

They
found Grant and the rest of the men without difficulty, resting together and
then moving forward again. She was amazed they could ride so easily through the
night. Though the path of the moon told their direction, she doubted she could
have traveled so confidently even on the familiar lands about Beryl.

They
recrossed the border, fording the River Tweed at a place one of the scouts
suggested. It was the first time Alexander had spoken to her since rejoining
the men. He dropped back, reining his horse near hers as they halted beside the
river.

"Give
her her head," he said softly, nodding toward the mare. "It's deep
for only a few yards. Loosen your reins, Jonet. She's a sweet lass and swims
like a duck."