Chapter 12

C hrist, this water's cold.

Despite the fact that Robert was thigh deep in a lochan and quite literally freezing his arse off, he remained stock-still. The surface of the ice-cold water rippled in the moment before he felt the smooth slide of the trout against the back of his bare knee, then his waiting palm. Yes. It had been a decade, but he still had the knack of catching a fish with his bare hands. Grinning, he held the slippery, writhing trout aloft for Jessie to see. They might be going to sleep in a cave, but at least they would eat well tonight.

Jessie's mouth twitched in an answering smile. "Ah, so ye can hunt after all. And without injurin' any young ladies, I notice."

"Wicked wench." Robert splashed her and she squealed as the icy droplets rained down on her face and hair. He laughed and waded out of the water onto the mossy bank, tossing the trout onto a nearby rock for gutting and scaling with his dirk. "You should be thankful I can, otherwise it would be salted beef again, Miss Munroe."

She pressed her lips together as if attempting to look contrite, although she couldn't quite hide the gleam of mischief in her eyes. "I am grateful, truly, milord. I'm so hungry, I would've been happy if ye'd caught a hedgehog for dinner."

"They're a wee bit tough and have nowhere near enough meat on them. And stop calling me ‘my lord.' Rob or Robert will do just fine."

Jessie looked up at him from her perch upon a boulder and arched a fine brow. "Well, ye only have yerself to blame. Ye keep calling me Miss Munroe."

"Aye, I do." Robert wiped his wet palm on his plaid, then proffered his hand. "Shall we call a truce for this evening then, Jessie?" After her incendiary revelation about her betrothal earlier in the day, he was relieved that the icy distance between them had at last begun to thaw a little.

She narrowed her eyes but there was no heat in her quelling look as she grasped his hand. "Agreed. But only if ye stop prancin' about half-dressed. There is only so much informality a lass can take, Robert Grant."

Jessie tried to keep her gaze averted as Robert dried off his very tanned bare legs and feet with his plaid before pulling on his buckskin breeches. Of course, he probably wouldn't mind if she openly ogled him, in view of his behavior this morning. Why, the man was utterly shameless, the way he'd stood in the water clothed only in his shirt and plaid, the kilted fabric rucked up around his bare muscular thighs, like a Highland warrior of old. At one point she'd even caught a glimpse of one taut buttock cheek.

But aren't ye shameless too, Jessie Munroe? If she were truly honest with herself, she couldn't deny her mouth was watering, and not because of the promise of a trout meal. Even Robert's long bare feet were attractive. Who'd have thought one could be aroused by such things?

Despite the fact they'd called a truce, she wasn't looking forward to spending another night alone with Robert in close quarters. Not because she was afraid of the man. No, it was because her stomach fluttered madly with butterflies whenever she so much as looked at him. Her father would be horrified if he knew. At least Tobias would be returning soon—Jessie assumed he'd gone to finally speak with his cousin at the castle—and would act as a chaperone of sorts. She shuddered. A male chaperone didn't really count though, did it? Oh, she could never tell her father about any of this, ever.

With any luck she'd be on the public coach for Edinburgh tomorrow and the last few days would just be a bad memory, nothing more.

A bitterly cold wind suddenly tore through the shadowy glen, pulling at Jessie's hair and cloak. Heavy gray clouds were rapidly piling up along the granite peaks surrounding them. She glanced at Robert, who was seated on the hard ground, tugging on his boots. "Ye must be freezing."

Robert stood and pulled on his coat. "Aye. And you soon will be too. I can smell snow. As soon as I've cleaned this trout, we'll need to get back to the cave."

Jessie frowned. "And ye're certain we canna spend the night at the lodge?"

Robert shook his head, the line of his mouth grim. "I didn't tell you this before, but Tobias spied a search party of Watchmen—and your fiancé —in the glen earlier this afternoon. I just can't take that chance, Jessie. Who knows where or when Simon will turn up again looking for you. Hopefully Tobias will be back from Lochrose soon with more news."

Oh God, Mrs. MacMillan had been wrong . Simon had been looking for her up here.

An icy tendril of fear, colder than the gale whipping about them, snaked down Jessie's spine, raising gooseflesh. What if Simon found her?

No, she couldn't think about it. She was safe here with Robert.

Her captor . Who thought she was engaged to the man she was truly fleeing.

What a tangled mess she was in.

A strange urge to laugh suddenly gripped Jessie. She must be slightly mad. She dragged in a shuddering breath and deliberately tried to calm her breathing, to slow her racing heart.

She mulled over the other piece of information Robert had shared. So, Tobias had definitely been to Lochrose. By now he would have discovered that no one at the castle had any knowledge of her "betrothal." It suddenly seemed ridiculous to persist with the lie. Robert wouldn't hurt her, she was certain of it.

She drew in another steadying breath. "Robert…"

He looked up from his quiet task of scaling the trout and cocked an eyebrow in query.

She swallowed. Speak, woman! "Robert, I wanted to?—"

Just then, a frigid squall of stinging rain and sleet hit, taking Jessie's breath away. Robert swore and sprinted over to the pine tree where his horse was tethered.

Huddling into her cloak as she limped after him, Jessie gritted her teeth against the biting cold and her frustration. It seemed her confession would have to wait.

What are ye waiting for, Jessie?

Less than an hour later and seated on her balled up, ruined cloak—a poor cushion substitute but it was better than nothing to ward off the hard chill of the cave floor—Jessie held her numb fingers out to the small fire Robert had built, deliberating whether now would be the right time to set things straight with him. Perhaps more importantly, negotiate her freedom to leave tomorrow.

Their truce had held throughout the last half hour as they'd trekked through the rain to the cave, then finished setting up their makeshift camp. But now, as Jessie eyed the far too-handsome Lord Lochrose over the fire's leaping flames, she found the momentary spurt of courage she'd felt by the lochan had completely deserted her. Indeed, it had been missing ever since they'd returned to the cave and she'd been forced to contemplate the long cold hours ahead…and what was to become of her. It seemed anxiety had frozen her tongue and was eating at her as steadily as the hunger gnawing at her belly.

Robert also seemed pensive, his brow furrowed deep in thought as he turned the trout on the spit he'd deftly crafted from birch branches. Jessie wondered what he was thinking but wasn't game enough to ask. Instead, she watched the flames twist and dance and the smoke spiral upward, toward a narrow fissure in the cave's ceiling that served as a natural chimney. Every now and again, a gust of wind sent flurries of snowflakes through the cave's entrance, but tucked away toward the back of the deep yawning space, she and Robert were relatively well protected from the sharp-as-a-knife draft.

Evidently Robert was highly familiar with this eyrie-like hiding place in the side of the mountain. The rocky, narrow path his horse had followed to reach here was well secreted—almost impossible to locate unless you knew what you were looking for.

She would be safe from Simon. But would she survive the night with Robert?

Jessie's gaze darted to the very back of the cave where a bed of bracken and spent heather lay piled. Robert and Tobias had gathered sheaves of the fronds earlier in the afternoon, before Tobias had headed off to the castle. Not for the first time, Jessie silently questioned precisely what the sleeping arrangements would be for tonight. There did not seem to be a large enough pile of bedding to accommodate…well, more than one person. She certainly wasn't going to share. She didn't know if she would feel more or less awkward if Tobias returned. Perhaps both men would be chivalrous and let her use the bed. Perhaps they could take turnabout.

If Tobias returned. Dusk had long since descended into the inky blackness of night and Jessie prickled with unease, wondering if Tobias was all right and how he would find them again. Negotiating the mountain trail would be treacherous at the best of times. In the dark, whilst it was snowing, it would be a certain death trap.

Robert suddenly turned to her, startling her out of her worried musings. "Jessie, perhaps you could turn the trout once every so often, so it doesn't burn?" He then rose in one swift movement and strode toward the mouth of the cave.

"Ye're leaving?" Jessie couldn't keep the slight note of panic from her voice. Was Robert returning to Lochrose tonight after all? She knew he was anxious to reconcile with his father, but surely he wouldn't leave now.

Contrary creature that she was, she was worried about spending the night alone with him, but absurdly, she didn't want him to go either. It was far too dangerous out there.

Foolish, Jessie. Ye dinna ken what you want.

Even in the gloom, she could make out the flash of Robert's white teeth. "I'm just going to retrieve my saddlebags and attend to my horse. The snow seems to be getting heavier and I want to make sure he's well sheltered. I won't be long."

Jessie sighed with relief when, true to his word, Robert returned but a few minutes later, saddlebags slung over one shoulder and a half-full bottle of whisky in his other hand. He tossed the bags down beside the fire before shaking the snow off his coat and dark hair.

He waved the whisky at her. "We'll be needing a few drams of this tonight to keep us warm. Tobias definitely won't be back now, so there'll be more for us." He sat down beside her and, with a wolfish grin, offered her the bottle.

So they would be all alone. All night .

Jessie's relief dissipated as quickly as the snowflakes melting on Robert's broad shoulders. She licked suddenly dry lips. She really didn't think she should be drinking whisky, not with Robert smiling at her like that. She shook her head. "No' for me, thank you. But perhaps ye wouldna mind sharing yer water instead."

Robert shrugged and rummaged around in his saddlebag before passing his water flask to her. As Jessie took it, their fingers brushed—the light contact making her skin tingle and a shaft of heat shoot all the way down to her lower belly. Resisting the urge to squirm to ease the disconcerting feeling, Jessie instead busied herself with drinking from the flask and turning the fish so it would continue to roast evenly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robert loosen the linen cravat at his throat before taking a swig of whisky straight from the bottle. After a short pause, she felt his gaze settle on her.

"How is your arm holding up?" he asked quietly.

She grimaced, keeping her eyes on the trout. "To be honest it's quite sore, but I dinna think it's worth worrying about."

Robert frowned. "Hmm. Nevertheless, I'll take a quick look and change the bandage, just to be sure. In hindsight, you've probably been more active today than was wise."

He hid it well, but he must be frustrated in the extreme having to play nursemaid as well as guard. It was delaying his reunion with the earl.

Before Jessie could reiterate that checking her wound really wasn't necessary, Robert had moved closer and had gently rolled up her sleeve. His hands were surprisingly warm on her bare skin as he unraveled the linen.

"All's well," he concluded after a close inspection. His eyes held a spark of amusement. "You can look, you know. It's not as bad as you think. I'm quite a good seamstress if I do say so myself."

Jessie sucked in a deep breath and looked down at her arm. He was right. The wound was sutured with six neat stitches into a straight red line, about an inch or so long. There was no sign of swelling or angry purulence. It would heal cleanly.

She touched it tentatively. "I take it ye've had some experience with this sort of thing before."

"A little." Robert pulled the loosened linen cravat free from his throat and proceeded to carefully rewrap her arm. The intimacy of the gesture made Jessie's pulse quicken and heat flooded her cheeks, but thankfully, Robert didn't seem to notice. "During the Rebellion," he continued, "and then, when I served with the French army."

Surprise sparked within Jessie at this disclosure. "You served with the French?"

Robert shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "For three years. After Culloden I went to France. I had to make a living somehow."

So Robert Grant had been a soldier for three years. That would explain a few things about him—his strong build, his ability to move about as silently as a lion on the hunt, his calmness under pressure. And his battle scars.

Jessie stole a glance at his profile as he continued to bandage her wound. There were many complexities to this man. She wanted to ask him what else he'd seen and done in the intervening years. His tanned skin suggested he'd been living in much warmer climes. Why had he left it so long to return to Lochrose? Why had he let the estrangement with his father continue when it was something he regretted? He'd been effectively disowned by Lord Strathburn in favor of Simon, obviously to prevent the Strathburn estate being forfeited all those years ago. It was a situation he now clearly wanted to reverse.

From what she recalled of Mrs. MacMillan's account, Robert had played a relatively minor role in the Rebellion. It was not unheard of for pardons to be granted by the King if the supplicant was sufficiently penitent and had the advocacy of a highly ranked sponsor. It suddenly occurred to Jessie that if Robert were pardoned and returned to the family fold, then Simon would become second in line to inherit the earldom once Lord Strathburn passed. And then only if Robert himself didn't produce a male heir.

Was that the cause of such obvious enmity and distrust between himself and Simon? Did Robert really think Simon would have him, his long-lost brother, apprehended just to hold onto the title Master of Strathburn and remain the only heir to the earldom?

He undoubtedly did.

Jessie contemplated discussing the issue with Robert, but for now, the topic seemed too difficult to broach, along with all the other issues she needed to discuss. She was suddenly reluctant to ruin the return to easiness between them. It was too fresh, too fragile.

She was undoubtedly a coward. She didn't want to see the hardness in Robert's eyes she'd seen this morning, or watch him sink into the brooding mood that had overtaken him only moments before.

Perhaps after dinner she'd feel brave enough to have a frank discussion with the man. She probably needed a dram or two of whisky after all.

Robert completed his task and eased her sleeve back into place. Outside the cave, a gust of wind howled past, and another flurry of snowflakes drifted in. The fire guttered and the roasted trout crackled and spat.

Her far-too-mercurial captor tested the fish with the blade of his dirk. "I think our dinner may be ready, Jessie," he said with a smile. "Ready enough for me, anyway."

He portioned up the fish onto a pair of small tin plates he'd pulled from the saddlebags. She gratefully accepted one, and ignoring the pain of burnt fingers, began to pick at the succulent coral flesh.

Robert attacked his serving of trout with relish, all the while conscious of Jessie sitting beside him. The sangfroid he'd fought to armor himself with since this morning rapidly evaporated as he noticed her delicately nibbling at her portion with even white teeth.

But it didn't seem to matter how many times he told himself, she's not for you, she's dangerous, she belongs to your brother. It mattered not at all when her pink tongue darted out to capture the juices from her full bottom lip and the corner of her mouth, or when she set about licking and sucking her moist fingertips. It took everything in him to stop himself groaning aloud like a wild beast.

God in heaven, everything this woman did seemed to make him burn. He was as hard as the honed steel blade of his dirk with wanting her.

When he'd finished eating, Robert wiped his fingers on a clean corner of the discarded linen bandage and slugged back several mouthfuls of whisky to calm his raging urges. He offered Jessie the bottle again. This time, to his surprise, she took it and threw back a decent swig. Her cheeks were flushed with high color and in the fire's glow, her eyes were the same deep, amber-brown as the whisky.

Robert could see why Simon should want the woman so badly. God help him, he wanted her too.

He took back the bottle and drank some more. When his body began to relax—including his errant cock—he got up and re-stoked the fire, then dug out a blanket for Jessie and another Black Watch plaid for himself. He draped the blanket around her shoulders, and she smiled at him in thanks. He decided then and there that he would have to sleep on the hard, stone floor of the cave by the fire, rather than beside her on the bed of bracken and heather.

As he wrapped himself in the rough wool plaid and returned to his place before the fire, Robert fell to contemplating the conundrum of Jessie's betrothal to his half-brother. Something didn't ring true about the situation.

Perversely, the question which seemed to plague him the most at this particular moment was, did Jessie love Simon? She'd never once mentioned that she cared for him. Robert examined her actions since he and Tobias had first discovered her in the copse yesterday. Not once had she actively fought to escape or demand that she be returned to Lochrose. Neither had she threatened to bring down the full weight of the law upon them if he and Tobias were caught. Her actions did not seem to be consistent with those of someone who was deeply in love. Wouldn't she want to return to the side of her beloved fiancé if that were the case?

But maybe this was all just wishful thinking on his part...

What he did know to be true was that Simon was actively searching for Jessie. It was clear his brother wanted the lass back. Robert now dismissed the theory that Simon had been manipulated into a betrothal by Jessie or her father, for surely his brother would be glad to wash his hands of her rather than pursue her.

Jessie had also asserted that she genuinely needed to leave Lochrose to travel to Edinburgh as she felt duty bound to assist her cousin and her brood of bairns. Of all the things she'd told him so far, Robert did believe this one thing to be true.

But regardless of what had precipitated Jessie's flight from Lochrose yesterday, or how much or how little she cared for Simon, would she still betray him, Robert, if the opportunity arose? She may, if she really did aspire to be the next Countess of Strathburn. Surely she would want to warn Simon of his return. Whether she was a grasping jade, or devoted wife-to-be, or something else entirely, it really didn't matter.

Any way Robert looked at it, letting Jessie go was still a huge risk. He couldn't afford to take any chances.

He ran his gaze over the lass again as he took another slug of whisky. The sight of her as well as the uisge beatha heated his blood. His inner voice whispered to him again.

She's not for you. She's dangerous. She belongs to your brother.

A heavy silence stretched out between Jessie and Robert, broken only by the occasional spit and pop of the fire or the howl of the wind.

Jessie squirmed. The strange tension in the atmosphere was becoming more palpable with every passing minute. She occasionally cast a glance Robert's way, but he was staring fixedly at the flames, lost in thought—dark thoughts, judging by his scowl. She wondered what had triggered such a change in him. He did not seem himself at all.

Putting aside her now empty plate, Jessie determined that she couldn't put off speaking with Robert any longer…especially now the whisky bottle was only a quarter full. If Robert were too far gone in his cups, her task would only be harder.

Tamping down her unease, and scraping her courage together, Jessie took a deep breath and looked at him squarely. "I-I wondered if we might speak of what will happen tomorrow. The coach to Edinburgh leaves at midday…"

Robert barely spared her a look. "I know." He drank more whisky.

Jessie frowned and bit her lip, struggling for the strength to stop herself from saying something she would regret. Or worse still, hurling the contents of the water flask over Robert to knock him out of this morose mood. To chase away the uncommunicative oaf he'd become. Common sense dictated she should own up to her falsehood, but it was hard to talk about Simon's degrading demands when Robert seemed so remote, even hostile. But then, she was partly to blame for that, wasn't she? She was going to have a hard time gaining Robert's trust.

But she had to try.

Perhaps it would help if she struck some kind of bargain with him. Offer him a gesture of support, a show of goodwill. Sucking in another steadying breath, Jessie resisted the urge to twist her hands. "Robert, I know that ye have no reason at all to trust me. But perhaps if I promise to help you, ye would feel more inclined to help me…"

Robert leveled his gaze on her. His dark blue eyes were almost black, their expression unreadable.

She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. "I've been thinking about why ye've come back after all this time. Mrs. MacMillan has told me a wee bit about what happened ten years ago—when ye left to rally to the Stuart cause."

Robert's face was like stone. "Has she now?"

Jessie rushed on, feeling awkward and nervous under his cold stare. "Aye, she has. Mrs.MacMillan speaks very fondly of you, by the way. Anyway, what I was trying to say was, I ken how verra difficult it must be to return here. No doubt ye're concerned about being recognized…and then arrested for taking part in the Rebellion. But having lived at Lochrose, I ken the routines of the household and everyone's schedule. I…I could perhaps help ye to enter the castle undetected so ye could see yer father…"

Robert's eyes narrowed. There was a sudden intensity in his scrutiny of her.

At last, he was interested.

Encouraged, Jessie leaned forward and continued to plead her case. "I know I have no right to speak of such things, but I'm sure yer father misses ye too. Although I have no' heard him speak of you, I know he has a miniature portrait of you that he carries about with him. I've seen it. That's how I recognized ye this morning. Mrs.MacMillan says yer father was heartbroken after Culloden, that he's never been the same since yer estrangement. After all these years, I'm sure that he would give anythin' to see you again…" She faltered, at a loss what to say next as Robert's reaction to her words mystified her.

He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if a great surge of emotion overwhelmed him. A muscle worked in his jaw.

When he raised his head, Robert looked straight at her. His eyes were hard and cold with withering anger.

Heavens, what have I done?

"How can I believe a single word you say, Jessie?" he bit out. "You're betrothed to Simon, the pair of you are set to become the next Earl and Countess of Strathburn. Why would I trust you to help me, when doing so ruins both your chances of inheriting that glittering prize?"

Did Robert really think so badly of her? Ignoring the lurch in the pit of her stomach in the face of such ire, Jessie somehow summoned her voice. "Ye believe Simon would betray you, but do ye really credit it? Surely after all this time he would welcome?—"

Robert laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. He raked her with a look that could only be described as scathing. "Of course he would betray me. I'm surprised he hasn't recounted the whole sorry story to you. How his bloodthirsty and glory-seeking older brother, ignoring the entreaties of their wise father, rushed into battle in support of the evil Pretender and squandered the lives of six-and-thirty good clansmen."

Jessie shook her head, tears pricking her eyelids. "I-I had no idea …"

"What? You don't know that after the villainous Jacobite managed to escape capture by the English on the field at Culloden, he retreated to Lochrose, craven cur that he was? And that the steadfast, obedient younger son had him locked up in the wine cellar, ready for the dragoons to take away, because of course, that was the noble and right thing to do, wasn't it?"

Jessie was stunned. If what Robert had just told her was really true, Simon had set out to maliciously betray his brother. What sort of a ruthless monster was he? It took her breath away. "What a heinous betrayal… I didna know… Mrs. MacMillan never told me that…" Jessie trailed off, utterly lost for words.

Robert was still looking at her as if she were some low creature that had just crawled out from beneath a rock. Of course, in his mind, she and Simon were both fashioned from the same mold, and she couldn't blame him for that. She drew in a shaky breath, wanting to know more. She wanted to understand. "But ye managed to escape."

Robert snorted. "No thanks to Simon. Even though I'd defied my father, I suppose he took pity on me. Either that or he couldn't bear to see our family name dragged through the mud any more than it had been. Better to have a son in exile than one who had been executed for treason. At any rate, my father arranged for one of the local Black Watchmen whom he trusted to stitch me back together?—"

"Ye were wounded?"

Robert shrugged. "You've seen my shoulder. A bayonet sliced me open. I don't even remember when it happened during the battle. Anyway, the Watchman, MacTaggart, put me back together and released me from Lochrose's cellar. Along with Tobias, he helped me to get to the coast and onto a fishing boat without being intercepted by the King's men. It was more than I deserved." Robert gulped down more whisky before he continued. "Tobias, the poor bastard… He lost his older brother Hamish, you know. All because of my cock-headed idiocy. Why the lad never held it against me, why he bothered to come with me, I'll never know." He shook his head and stared into the fire, the flames casting strange patterns of light and shadow over the strong planes of his handsome face.

Jessie watched his expression grow distant, his thoughts obviously turning inward.

"I should have died. I deserved to." Robert's voice was laced with bitter self-recrimination. "I was so bloody stupid."

It was shocking to catch a glimpse of this man's inner pain. Jessie recognized immediately that the scars Robert carried from that long-ago battle were more than skin deep and they had not healed. He was still deeply wounded to the depths of his very soul.

At the risk of being subjected to his disdain again, she rallied her courage to speak, to break the taut, painful silence, to draw Robert back from whatever horrors he was currently reliving in his mind. She knew she could never offer him comfort, but at least she could convey her sympathy.

Jessie watched him quietly and waited until he met her gaze again. "I know I couldna even begin to understand what Culloden has cost ye, Robert," she ventured gravely, her heart clenching for him. "But I want ye to know that I…I'm truly abhorred by the knowledge of what Simon did to you."

Her bid for reconciliation failed dismally. Robert stood abruptly, looking down at her with nothing but contempt in his eyes. Jessie shrank back, pulling her blanket about her tightly, as if it could provide her with protection.

Robert raised the whisky bottle in a mock toast. "Here's to you, Jessie Munroe, and your betrothal to the honorable Simon Grant, Master of Strathburn and heir to the Earldom of Strathburn. I wish you well." He drank from the bottle then strode to the entrance of the cave. Leaning against the rock wall, he gave his back to her and stared out into the bitterly cold night.

Jessie watched his rigid form. His derision stung more than she cared to admit, but it was undeniably her own fault that Robert viewed her with such enmity. She persisted in perpetuating the lie about her relationship with Simon.

She suddenly couldn't bear the idea of being associated with such a low, despicable creature any longer. Once and for all she needed to set things straight. Tell Robert the truth, no matter how ashamed she felt.

Although stiff and cold, Jessie dropped the blanket and pushed herself to her feet. Robert half turned his head as she drew close. His face was in darkness. She sensed rather than saw his animosity. It fairly vibrated off him.

She dragged in a shaky breath. "Robert…" To her dismay her voice shook slightly. He turned around and stared at her, his eyes like deep black hollows. She tried again. "Robert, there's something ye should know. It's difficult for me to talk about…"

Except for the frigid wind, lifting the lock of hair over his brow, Robert remained motionless. Enough, Jessie. She would not be intimidated by his dark mood. This must be done.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I havena been completely honest with you. I must explain?—"

Robert laughed, a short, sharp derisive bark. "Well, I must say that doesn't surprise me, given the company you keep." He dropped the now empty whisky bottle, pushed away from the cave wall then took a step toward her.

Despite the quaking in her bones, Jessie held her ground. Snowflakes swirled in the air between them.

"What continues to surprise me though," Robert all but growled, "is that you find my brother even remotely worthy of your attention. I mean, what the hell do you see in him? Can you just explain that to me, Jessie, because I'd really like to know."

Jessie swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold Robert's searing gaze. "I… It's no' what ye think… When ye saw Simon with me, yesterday morning?—"

"You're lovers. Don't deny it." Robert moved closer and Jessie stepped back until her shoulders met the rough stone of the cave wall.

She had nowhere to go. She closed her eyes as a deep chill ran through her. This wasn't going well at all.

Robert was relentless. "So what is it about Simon that attracts you so, Jessie? Is it his fine form, charming personality, and sparkling wit?"

Jessie shook her head. "Ye dinna understand…"

Coherent thought had fled. Robert was so close now, he was almost pressed flat against her. The scent of him—pine needles, wood smoke, whisky, and something else that was essentially male—surrounded her. Drugged her mind. He leaned forward and placed his forearms against the cave wall behind her. Framing her.

Trapping her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Robert bent low, his voice a heated rasp against her ear. "Or is it his wealth and promise of a title?"

"No," Jessie whispered, her own voice little more than a whimpered breath. She was torn between wanting Robert and wanting to push him away so she could explain. "No, it's no' like that at all."

Robert traced a finger down the side of her cheek and along her jaw, down to her collarbone. His touch was like fire upon her skin. Jessie's whole body trembled from head to toe and her heart slammed frantically against the wall of her chest. Whether it was from fear or anticipation, she hadn't a clue.

Robert's mouth was so close to her parted lips, his frosted breath mingled with hers. "Or is it the way he kisses you, Jessie, that has you so enthralled?"

Before she could utter a sound, Robert clasped her jaw and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. His lips were hard, demanding, as they crushed against hers. Hot anger flared within Jessie, dousing any fear.

How dare he kiss her like this? He was as despicable as Simon!

But even as Jessie tried to wrench her mouth away, hot liquid warmth coursed through her, as potent as the whisky they'd shared. She futilely pushed her hands against Robert's chest, but his lean, rock hard body crushed her hard up against the cold stone. She felt hot and cold all at once as if she were overcome with some strange fever.

Robert buried both hands in her tangled hair and deepened the kiss, his mouth moving urgently over hers. Never before had Jessie experienced a kiss like this, and never before had her body responded in such an inexplicable way.

A firestorm raged inside her. Fury at Robert for taking such liberties, yet deep, pulsing arousal beyond anything she'd ever known swept through her. When Robert's tongue traced the seam of her lips then pushed inside, she gasped at the invasion—but she soon yielded to the intimate stroking of his tongue against hers, even tasting him in return. It was as though her body had surrendered even though her mind resisted. Gradually, by degrees, her ire started to dissolve into the molten heat throbbing through her veins. Ignoring the pain in her wounded arm, she grasped the back of Robert's neck with both hands and pulled him closer. A moan, desperate and needy, spilled from her throat.

And then Robert pushed her away. He roughly pulled her hands from his neck and clasped them up against her chest. He was panting raggedly, his breath a harsh sawing sound. "So tell me, Jessie…does he kiss you that way?" Robert's dark, smoldering gaze searched hers. "Is that what you love about him?"

She shook her head, aching and angry and wanting, and oh, so confused. "Please… I?—"

"Or does he kiss you like this?"

Again Robert took her mouth, but this time the kiss was slow, sinuous, teasing. A hot, satiny glide. He released her hands and cupped her face gently. His thumbs softly stroked the sensitive flesh beneath her jaw and down the sides of her neck. He broke the contact briefly to draw breath, before lowering his head once more. The tip of his tongue ran over the swell of her bottom lip before pushing into the recess of her mouth again, tasting her as if she were the most exquisite delicacy.

Jessie was melting. If Robert's body hadn't been pressing against hers, holding her up, she would have slipped to the ground. Her hands curled into the wool of his plaid, pulling his body closer. One of his muscular legs pushed between hers and she half stood, half straddled him. Even through the layers of her cambric petticoats, the heat of his body penetrated through to her own.

When Robert pushed closer into her, his pelvis gently thrusting against her hip, she moaned again, breasts aching, mound throbbing. Heaven help her, she was completely overwhelmed. A warning bell clamored somewhere at the back of her mind. This had to stop… Had to stop before ? —

With a shudder, Robert ripped his mouth away, panting hard. He pushed away from her, and Jessie felt like she'd been doused with a bucket of cold loch water. "I won't dare ask if there's anything else you love about my brother." His tone was harsh, bitter. He turned abruptly and stalked off into the darkness outside.

A soft sound almost like a sob escaped Jessie's swollen lips. She touched them with shaking fingers. She wouldna cry. She. Would. Not.

But she couldn't hide from the fact that yet again she'd failed to tell Robert the whole truth. Any of it. Damn her weakness. And damn Robert Grant for making her feel this way—frustrated and yearning and desperate and as furious as a wildcat. She hoped he froze to death out there.

Too exhausted to examine the tangle of her thoughts and emotions, Jessie decided to opt for the welcome oblivion of sleep. She returned to the fire, now slowly dying, and retrieved her blanket and cloak before struggling to the bed at the back of the cave. It was icy back there away from the fire, but she was beyond caring. Wrapping herself tightly in her makeshift bed covers, she sank onto the bracken and heather, and willed herself to sleep. She would have to try and reason with Robert in the morning, when he was sober and she wasn't…wasn't whatever she was in this moment.

Failing that, she'd just take the wretched man's horse.

Robert stood outside in the swirling snow, kicking himself for his brutish treatment of Jessie. He shouldn't have drunk so much whisky. He'd let his guard down and succumbed to his own base desires. The need to make Jessie his own, to steal her from his brother if only for a moment or two, had overtaken all rational thought.

The lass must now think he was the worst kind of lustful beast.

What he hadn't been expecting was Jessie's seemingly inexperienced response to his kisses. Of course, he'd anticipated angry resistance for his presumption when he'd initially forced himself on her. And she had resisted…at first. But when she'd yielded to him, her kisses were not those of a well-practiced lover, but those of a tentative novice.

Robert raked a hand through his snow-covered hair. Yet again he was confounded by the woman. Had he…was it possible that he'd misinterpreted the seemingly passionate kiss he'd witnessed between Jessie and Simon? He closed his eyes and although it hurt, he revisited what he'd seen. There was no way to tell. In hindsight, he'd been an idiot not to stay longer to watch more of their exchange. But handfasted or not, he'd wager a good deal that Jessie had little to no experience when it came to lovemaking.

But then, why should he care at all about her innocence?

Because Simon has a cruel streak and he will debauch her, you know it.

Frustration that bordered on anguish twisted inside Robert, the emotion stronger now he'd tasted Jessie's sweetness himself. He wished Simon to hell. He wished Jessie was his. Most of all, he wished he hadn't begun to care for her.

But he had.

He did.

The snowfall continued unabated. The frigid cold had rapidly sobered Robert up and he realized he needed to return to the cave. To Jessie. Heaving a deep sigh, he wrapped his plaid tighter about himself and trudged back up the path.

Jessie had disappeared from view. Her confession that she hadn't known of Simon's duplicitous role in his arrest after Culloden confused him also. Her shock then compassion had seemed genuine. He wanted to trust her, but dare he?

She'd offered to help him gain admittance to Lochrose, even though she would be risking her own chance to make her way to Edinburgh tomorrow. But was her offer just a ruse to lure him into the path of Simon? Was she complicit in his half-brother's games, or innocent?

Perhaps when Tobias returned, Robert would have the answers he needed to solve the mystery that was Miss Jessie Munroe.

As he shook the snow off his hair and clothes at the cave's entrance, he immediately noticed that Jessie had already retired to the makeshift bed. Was the lass already asleep or was she just foxing, so she wouldn't need to speak to him? His mouth kicked into a grim smile. He wouldn't blame her in the least if she was quite literally giving him the cold shoulder.

The temperature in the cave had dropped significantly so he threw a few more hunks of wood and branches onto the fire. Despite his earlier resolution to sleep on the floor of the cave away from Jessie, he decided it would be sheer folly to do so. It was freezing and they would both end up suffering from exposure if they didn't take precautions—which meant they needed to share their body heat beneath their meager collection of blankets and wrappings.

Hell's bells.

Squaring his shoulders, Robert steeled himself to approach Jessie. He knelt down beside her then gently touched her arm beneath the covers. "Jessie lass. You must wake up."

Her eyes flew open immediately and she pushed herself up in a panicked gasp, wrapping her cloak and the blanket defensively around her shoulders. She looked exhausted and wary, her mouth a tight line, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Tears he'd undoubtedly caused.

Guilt tugged at his heart. She stared at him, waiting.

Robert swallowed, struggling to find the words to apologize and somehow repair the fragile rapport he'd well and truly crushed. She'd never agree to his proposal otherwise. "Jessie, I…I'm so sorry for my behavior before. It was completely reprehensible, not to mention entirely inappropriate for me to…to take advantage of you in such a way. I have no excuse, but I hope you will consider accepting my sincere apology."

Jessie looked down and brushed her wildly curling hair behind her ear as she shivered. He held his breath, waiting for her to speak.

"I accept," she said quietly. She then raised her face, and he could see her beautiful brown eyes glowed with a quiet, determined strength. "But there's something I want you to understand. After tomorrow, ye must let me go. My only wish is to go to Edinburgh, to stay with my cousin. I swear to ye that I willna say a word to Simon or Lady Strathburn for that matter, about yer return. And my earlier offer, to help ye see yer father again, was sincere and still stands. I realize that ye have no real reason to trust me, but I ask that you do. Perhaps we can even make a deal… I will assist ye to enter Lochrose undetected in exchange for my freedom to leave. What do ye say?"

Robert extended his hand. "Agreed, Jessie Munroe."

Jessie clasped his hand and shook. Her skin was so cold, Robert had the sudden urge to place her hand under his shirt against his chest to warm it. Instead, he enveloped it with his other hand and began to gently chafe and massage her icy fingers.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Why are ye so warm, Robert? It doesna seem fair."

Robert smiled, encouraged that Jessie hadn't ordered him to bed down with his horse. But he needed to do more than hold her hand to keep her warm. How would she react to his next suggestion?

He drew a fortifying breath, preparing himself for a stinging rebuke. "Jessie lass…it's as cold as Hades tonight, and I fear that we will both suffer if we do not take extra measures to keep ourselves warm."

She opened her eyes and regarded him warily. But she did not pull her hand away. "Well, ye drank all the whisky. What are ye suggesting?"

Robert held her gaze. "What you are wearing is nowhere near adequate for this kind of weather. I can feel how cold you are already and it's only going to get colder in here."

A small frown of suspicion creased her brow. "Aye…"

He took another deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound, Robert. "We should lie together and share our body heat beneath the blanket and our plaids."

As he spoke, Jessie's eyes grew wide. She shook her head vehemently and wrenched her hand away. "You and I… I dinna think that would be appropriate. At all ."

"Jessie, I swear this is not some ploy to seduce you. If we don't do this, we may very well freeze to death. You must believe me."

She bit her lip and stared hard into his eyes, searching. She must have been satisfied with what she saw as she moved over to give him room beside her on the heather and bracken bed. "All right, Robert Grant. But if I catch yer hands wanderin' where they should no', I'll use yer own dirk on you. Do ye understand?"

Robert held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Understood. I shall be nothing but the perfect gentleman from now on." He eased himself down next to her and tucked his plaid and the blanket around them. Jessie lay stiffly beside him, barely touching him. She was still trembling and her teeth had started to chatter.

This wouldn't do. Slowly, carefully, Robert gathered her into his arms, the front of her body pressing against his side. He heard her sudden intake of breath, but she didn't try to pull away.

"It's better this way," he whispered softly against her ear. Her hair smelled faintly of heather and wood-smoke. "You'll tell me if I'm hurting your arm, won't you?"

Jessie nodded, her hair tickling his cheek. "I'm all r-right," she whispered. Her breath was warm against the hollow of his neck.

Robert fought the familiar urge to kiss her, but vowed to himself that he would not do anything to break her trust. He prayed she wouldn't notice that his rebellious cock had already started to grow stiff…and not with cold. Blasted, brainless, obstinate thing.

"Goodnight, Jessie," he murmured and slowly, he felt the tension ebb from her body. She relaxed into his embrace and her shivering eased as she quietly drifted into slumber. The palm of her left hand drifted upward to rest against his heart, and with a faint smile on his lips, Robert closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.