Chapter 9

D espite her hunger, Jessie had only been able to stomach a little of the rye bread from her satchel. She willingly shared the rest of it, her wedge of cheese, and the apples with Rob and Tobias. For their part, they were happy to share their stash of salted beef and oatcakes. It wasn't a grand supper by any means, but it would do.

In the end, Jessie was too exhausted to ponder the enigma that was Mr. Rob Burnley for too long. Perhaps he was just a poacher who was pretending that he knew the earl. While he did seem familiar with the lodge—and appeared quite comfortable inhabiting it, almost like he belonged here—that wasn't so odd if he'd used the place as a secret hunting base before. These upland moors were quite deserted after all.

The second dram of whisky she'd had with her meal sat much better than the first. Indeed, a heavy, pleasant warmth spread through Jessie as she sat before the fire, tucked up in the plaid and a thick woolen blanket. Even though her arm and ankle still pulsed with steady pain, it wasn't long before her eyes grew heavy and her head began to nod.

She could hear Rob and Tobias in quiet conversation as they sat nearby at the scrubbed oak dining table, their voices nothing more than a murmur above the steady tattoo of heavy rain on the roof. Perhaps she even drifted into a light doze—for how long she wasn't sure—but something roused her to full consciousness again. She was aware of the two men still talking. Then Tobias said her name and her breath hitched in her throat.

They were discussing her . Her eyes were closed so they clearly thought she was sound asleep.

"What do ye think she was really doing up here, milord?"

"After what I saw this morning by the loch, I can only assume that she and Simon must have been planning another assignation. But the inclement weather has clearly put him off."

"So do ye think they're definitely…lovers?"

There was a taut pause before Rob answered. "What I witnessed was more than just a friendly embrace, Tobias. The questions I keep asking myself are: how did Jessie come to be at Lochrose, and how significant is her connection to Simon? Most importantly, can I trust her?"

God in heaven . Rob had been at Loch Kilburn this morning and had seen her with Simon! More than that, he'd witnessed Simon kissing her. But Rob had misinterpreted everything.

Why had he been at the loch in the first place?

Aside from that, both Rob and Tobias knew Simon.

Before Jessie could even think on what she'd learned, Tobias asked another question that set her heart galloping. "What are ye going to do with her, milord?"

Jessie's breath froze in her lungs as she waited for Rob's reply. Why didn't he respond? Was it really that difficult a question?

"I don't know yet," came his low answer eventually. "It's a complicated situation to say the least. If Jessie goes back to Lochrose, there's a good chance she'll tell Simon about us. Of course, he'll easily put two and two together and set the Watch or dragoons on me. I can't risk being arrested."

"Do ye really think Simon would do that?"

"It's more than a definite possibility. I'd wager my soul it's exactly what he'd do."

Breathe, Jessie, breathe. Don't let them know ye're eavesdropping. There was another short pause in which she heard the clinking of glass followed by the glug of liquid from a bottle.

Rob spoke again. "She's a problem I wasn't expecting," he said softly. "And it could be my downfall."

"Do ye think Simon will be out looking for her tonight or on the morrow then, milord?"

There was a low chuckle. "Well, I suppose it depends on the weather." A serious note returned to Rob's voice. "But it's likely that the Black Watch will be out and about at any rate if she was expected back at the castle tonight."

"She's a comely lass, milord. Perchance she's nowt but a tumble in the hay for Simon?"

"Mmm. That is one possibility. But I think she's maybe a little more than that. She's refined. She speaks and dresses well and there were guineas in her satchel. The horse she rode to the loch this morning was the mount of a genteel woman. She's not just a lass from the village or a servant at the castle. I did wonder if she might be my father's ward."

"Perhaps I could ask my cousin Annie, or the other staff at the castle about her."

"On the surface that sounds like a reasonable course of action to take, Tobias. Perhaps tomorrow, but only after we've discussed a line of questioning that won't arouse suspicion. We need to exercise caution whatever we decide to do about Jessie. If we let her go, she'll undoubtedly tell Simon about us…" There was a slight pause then Rob added in a low voice, "We might appear to be poachers, but there's a very good chance that he might work out what is really going on when she provides him with a description of me."

In the heavy silence that followed Rob's pronouncement, the crackle of burning logs in the fireplace and the drum of steady rain were the only discernible sounds. All the while, Jessie's thoughts tumbled over each other as her mind worked furiously to make sense of what she'd just heard. Even with her eyes closed, she sensed Rob's attention was on her. It was like she could feel his stare—as if he were actually touching her. She strove to stay perfectly motionless, to control her breathing, to keep her expression neutral. She must have succeeded in convincing him she was still asleep as he soon resumed the speculative discussion…about her.

"On the other hand, if we keep Jessie with us, we also run the risk of Simon, or others who care for her, sending out a search party. Either way, we'll have the Black Watch or the dragoons on our tails."

"I dinna think she will take kindly to being held against her will."

"Aye, I believe you may be right on that score, Tobias."

"She kens too much, milord."

"Aye, she does. She's definitely a complication we could do without."

"Maybe it would be easier if we just—" Tobias suddenly broke off.

A chair scraped on the wooden floor and footsteps approached.

Jessie's pulse bolted clean away. What if they could tell she'd been listening all this time? Her heart was thudding so violently in her chest, she was certain they must be able to hear it. What had Tobias meant when he'd said it would be easier to…what? Do away with her?

They see me as a threat of some kind.

A complication.

Had fear registered on her face? Had she given herself away?

A shadow moved across her and she swallowed a scream.

"Jessie?" It was Rob.

Despite her best efforts to control her breathing, it was rapid and shallow. He would know—he would know she'd heard everything! What were they going to do?—

Rob's hand was on her knee. "Jessie lass, wake up."

Jessie's eyes flew open and she gasped. Rob was bending over her, his far-too-handsome face was very close to her own.

"It's all right, lass," he said softly. "You must have been having a nightmare."

Jessie nodded. Aye, she was trapped in a nightmare . A waking nightmare. But the cold fear gripping her heart was all too real.

"I'll carry you to bed," Rob continued in a soothing velvet voice. "You'll sleep better there."

As he effortlessly lifted her up, Jessie started to protest, but he simply cast her a lopsided grin. "It's no trouble at all, lass." His warm breath caressed her ear. "You don't want to be putting weight on that ankle yet. You've been hurt enough for one day."

His tone and expression were completely at odds with what he'd just been saying to Tobias, and that unnerved Jessie even further.

How could Rob dispassionately discuss holding her captive—perhaps even disposing of her—in one moment, then utter honeyed words delivered with a charming smile in the next?

With equal measures of trepidation and disappointment welling within her, Jessie realized that Mr. Robert Burnley was dangerous after all. A true wolf in sheep's clothing.

Rob carried her through to the main bedchamber and placed her gently on the large bed so that she reclined against the pillows. Then, without invitation, he sat down beside her. "I'm afraid the bedding is a bit dusty and in need of a good airing. But at least it's warm and dry," he said.

Jessie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was so disconcerted, only heaven knew if she'd be able to produce more than a rush of panicked gibberish. She didn't think Rob was deliberately trying to intimidate her by sitting so close. There was no threat evident in his voice or expression, and since she'd been injured, he'd shown her nothing but kindness. But was it all a ruse? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security whilst he worked out how to dispose of the problem she was assumed to be? She was so confused and heartsick. And more than a wee bit frightened.

Jessie dropped her gaze to the bedclothes. She couldn't look at him.

Rob continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her. Was he waiting for her to say something? Jessie wanted to reassure him that she wasn't a threat, that she had no allegiance to Simon Grant whatsoever. She didn't want him to believe she was Simon's paramour, despite what Rob thought he'd seen by Loch Kilburn.

More than anything she wanted him to know the truth—that the thought of being Simon's lover made her feel ill.

But how could she speak of such awkward, degrading things when she hardly knew Rob? Would he even believe her? He had no reason to trust her. Perhaps he would think she was denying a tie to Simon simply to save her own skin. Jessie worried her bottom lip whilst she tried to work through all the twists and turns of her thinking.

Perhaps if…if she just expressed how grateful she was for his care. Surely if he understood she hadn't taken all he'd done for her thus far for granted—that she felt indebted to him—he might consider the possibility that she was actually an ally, at least on some level.

With some effort, Jessie pushed herself upright against the pillows and tried to ignore the press of Rob's long muscular leg against her own through the folds of the plaid. She needed her wits about her . She drew a shaky breath and forced herself to meet Rob's eyes. "I-I want to thank you…for helping me. I appreciate all that ye've done to take care of me since the accident. Ye've been nothing but kind and a…a gentleman, in every way."

Rob smiled at that, and she blushed as she remembered how he'd helped her to undress.

Pushing such unhelpful thoughts steadfastly away, Jessie garnered the remnants of her courage and continued. "I-I'm sorry to have caused ye so much trouble. If there is anything at all I can do to repay ye…ye only need to ask."

Jessie's breath caught as Rob's gaze immediately dropped to her lips. His eyes narrowed slightly and heat flared in their midnight blue depths. For a moment she had the impression that he was going to kiss her. Surely he didn't expect her to show gratitude in that way.

But what if he did? Jessie's pulse began running wildly and that warm flutter of desire she'd felt earlier stirred between her thighs. She was clearly daft. At the very least, she should be shocked, perhaps even outraged that Rob might actually be a ruthless rogue. The sort of man who'd take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable position. A man like Simon Grant…

But heaven help her, she wasn't shocked or outraged at all.

"Mmm," Rob murmured. He reached out and gently lifted her chin with a crooked finger so she was forced to look straight into his eyes. "You must not think that way, mo ghaoil . In fact, I'm the one who should be begging for your forgiveness for having hurt you so. If anyone needs recompense, it is you , Jessie Munroe."

With that, Rob got to his feet then carefully spread a thick quilt over her legs. "What's most important right now," he added, his manner full of soft reassurance, "is that you get some sleep, so I will bid you goodnight." In the next instant he was gone, the door snicking shut behind him.

With a great shuddering sigh, Jessie sank back down onto the bed, thoughts too numerous to count spinning about in her head. Even though she was spent, sleep seemed impossible. She resolutely pushed away all thoughts about kissing Rob. Dwelling on that was not going to help her escape this predicament.

Regardless of everything that had befallen her today, her focus still needed to be on getting herself to Grantown to catch the public coach to Edinburgh as she'd planned. But that would be impossible if Rob decided to keep her captive or subdue her in some other way…

Yet he'd called her mo ghaoil . My dear.

She ruthlessly crushed the notion that Rob cared even a little about her. He'd used the Gaelic endearment simply to dupe her into trusting him.

With a frustrated groan, Jessie wrenched her mind back to the problem at hand. She reviewed all that she'd learned from the exchange she'd overheard between Rob and Tobias. She now strongly suspected that these men were not mere poachers, but fugitives of some kind. Why else would they be taking such great pains to evade the Black Watch and the dragoons? Rob Burnley especially.

But why? What had he done that was against the law?

Somehow, Rob knew Simon well. He was even aware of Simon's particular dislike of unpleasant weather. Indeed, the man seemed to think—for some reason that was completely unfathomable to her—that Simon was his biggest threat. And because of Rob's mistaken belief that she was in some kind of relationship with the vile rogue, he was now going to assess how much of a potential threat she was to his safety also.

But she was no threat at all.

Jessie again contemplated confessing that she and Simon were not lovers. That in actual fact, she was running away from Lochrose Castle because of Lord Strathburn's horrid son. At least then Rob might believe she had no loyalty to the odious Master of Strathburn.

But if she were honest and revealed she was just the factor's daughter, with no one really searching for her, Rob may see her as even more dispensable. It would be easier to remove a complication if that said complication wouldn't be missed at all. If she pretended to be someone of some importance to the earl and his son, it may stay Rob's hand in acting to silence her.

Jessie closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Tried desperately to quell the maelstrom of panicked thoughts whirling through her mind.

Perhaps she should just run now? Perhaps when Rob and Tobias were asleep, she could sneak out and take one of the horses and ride to… Where? Lochrose and back to Simon Grant? She'd sooner die than return to him. And if she stayed at the Strathspey Arms, there was still the distinct possibility that Simon would find her there too.

Oh, blast it all to hell. Flight would be a near impossible feat, given her injuries. And then there was the problem of her lack of suitable clothes. Her gown was ruined, and she doubted she'd be able to put it back on. Wearing a hunting plaid which was proscribed was not conducive to remaining inconspicuous. She'd be noticed and apprehended on sight by any dragoons or Black Watch in the area.

Jessie pulled the quilt up to her chin. The rain lashed the hunting lodge's windows and the occasional flash of lightning lit the room. It was certainly not a night to be outside, especially considering her current state. Any attempt to leave here would be doomed to failure.

There was no feasible way of escape and no safe place to go. Her father, who could be anywhere right now, had no idea of the danger she was in and wouldn't worry about her for at least a fortnight…

Jessie had never felt so alone in all her life. Tears spilled out from under her eyelids. For a long time she watched the fire dying in the grate, until at last she succumbed to exhaustion.

When Robert entered the bedchamber again sometime later, it was to discover that Jessie was fast asleep. And she'd been crying. By the light of the candle he held aloft, he could detect the faint glimmer of half-dried tears on her cheeks.

Although he couldn't say for certain, his gut told him that the lass had been listening when he'd been talking to Tobias earlier. What a fool he'd been to let his guard down. When he'd approached Jessie, he hadn't failed to notice the tension in every line of her face, her erratic breathing, the alarm in her eyes. She'd been terrified. Now she probably knew he'd seen her with Simon. Knew he was contemplating what to do next. That he was a wanted man. But did she yet know he was Robert Grant, the Jacobite, heir to these lands? If he didn't lose his head on the executioner's block of course…

The fire had died to a low reddish glow. Robert placed the candle on the mantel, and after throwing another pine log into the grate, he absently watched the sparks fly up the chimney. Behind him, Jessie stirred slightly. He turned to look at her again. The sight of her in sleep made him ache in a way he didn't like. She was dangerous this woman, dangerous beyond imagining.

When he'd put her to bed earlier and she'd betrayed her nervousness by biting her fulsome bottom lip, it had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed to stop himself from seizing her then and there and kissing her senseless. The lustful male in him wanted to wake her now and join her in the bed, to make her want him as much as his body seemed to want her. Yet part of him also longed to lie beside her and fall asleep with his face buried in her luxurious hair. To take comfort from the simple pleasure of cradling this beautiful Highland lass in his arms.

Even now, the scent of warm, sleepy female beckoned to him like a siren's song. But he knew he would not share a bed tonight, or indeed any night, with Jessie.

She belonged to someone else.

His brother.

It suddenly occurred to Robert that his urge to possess Jessie sprang from an entirely selfish need—that perhaps she could somehow fill the gaping black void within him. That by getting lost in mindless pleasure, she'd help him forget his fears and assuage his ever-present guilt about his past failures.

But then again, perhaps he simply wanted her because he couldn't stand the idea of her being with Simon. The previously indefinable emotion that sliced through Robert whenever he pictured Jessie with his half-brother was jealousy, pure and simple.

Jealousy that twisted in his gut like a Highlander's dirk.

Frustrated by his conflicting thoughts and his mad, aching desire for a woman he couldn't have, Robert sighed heavily then threw himself onto the settee before the fire. He would stay by Jessie's bedside tonight. Given her injuries and the wild weather, it was unlikely she would run… But still, he couldn't take that chance.

Regardless of what she did or didn't know about him, or what she might guess, he was now certain he couldn't let her go.

Simon stood before the drawing room window of Lochrose, watching the storm lash the castle grounds and the woodland beyond. Every now and again, lightning illuminated the loch and the brooding mounds of the surrounding braes. The night perfectly matched his own foul mood. His Jezebel had gone and was nowhere to be found.

He'd given up the search for her about Lochrose when the bad weather had set in, late in the afternoon. He'd also sent Baird, his valet, to Grantown to look for the girl, but the man had returned alone.

Simon was certain Mrs. MacMillan was somehow involved in the girl's sudden disappearance. The old cow had been questioned by his mother but to no avail. The woman was sticking to her story that Jessie had been urgently summoned to Edinburgh to assist some cousin.

Simon didn't believe the tale for a minute.

Impotent anger as black and volatile as the storm clouds outside churned inside him. He tossed back another glass of cognac, but like always, the alcohol did little to douse his fury. His Jezebel was out there somewhere, somewhere close, he could feel it. The public coach for Edinburgh didn't pass through Grantown until the day after tomorrow, and the chit hadn't taken her horse or any other mount from Lochrose's stables.

She was hiding from him, but he would find her.

And when he did, he would make her so completely his, she would never dare to defy him again.