Chapter 7

" J essie. Jessie, you need to wake up, lass." The huntsman was back again, speaking softly by her ear. One of his hands gently squeezed her right shoulder. "The horses are here."

With an effort Jessie prized her lids open.

"Do you think you can stand?"

Although dazed, Jessie found her voice. "I'm no' sure. I'll try."

"Good lass."

The man slid his arm around her waist to help her up, but as she started to rise, her temporarily forgotten sprained ankle protested. The sharp, shooting pain was so great she cried out in agony and clutched at the man's arm and shoulder. Her head swam with dizziness and dark spots appeared before her eyes.

"My ankle," Jessie gasped. "I-I sprained it earlier."

The huntsman's mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. "Ah, that explains the missing boot."

"Aye, I couldn't bear to put it back on." With her chin, Jessie gestured at the pile of leaves by the trunk of the rowan. "It's in my satchel, just there."

As she leaned against the tree for support, the man snagged the leather bag by the strap and slung it over his shoulder. Then before Jessie knew what he was about, he gently swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the copse and across the rocky burn to where his servant Tobias waited with two horses.

My goodness, he's strong. As the feelings of dizziness receded, Jessie became aware of the hard planes of the huntsman's chest as he cradled her in his arms. He lifted her onto one of the horses as if she weighed nothing at all.

"You're not going to faint on me again now, are you?" he asked, his hands lingering at her waist. Concern creased his brow.

"I-I think I'll be fine." Jessie grasped the pommel of the saddle, avoiding the huntsman's gaze. She was highly aware of the feel of his large, capable hands spanning her torso. Truth be told, she was more than a wee bit relieved when he released her to secure her satchel to one of his mount's saddlebags.

Thunder rumbled again, louder this time. Jessie shivered as an icy gust of wind tore down the glen. Despite the drop in temperature, she clumsily shrugged off the huntsman's coat and offered it to him. "I'm sure you would like yer coat back, Lord…" She looked down at the handsome stranger and arched a brow. After everything that had happened, she really wanted to know this man's name.

The huntsman smiled and the undeniably roguish tilt of his mouth made heat rise in Jessie's cheeks. "I'm flattered that you think me so distinguished. But I'm simply Mr.Robert Burnley. And you must call me Rob." His fingers brushed hers as he took his coat. "Thank you, Jessie."

The brief contact made Jessie's skin tingle in the oddest way, and to her consternation, her blush deepened. What on earth was the matter with her? For heaven's sake, she'd been kissed before—albeit quite chastely beneath the mistletoe last Christmastide by Duncan Ross. Simon Grant's supposed "kiss" this morning certainly didn't signify. At any rate, she might be a virgin, but she certainly wasn't a shy, completely innocent maid.

Mr. Burnley—or Rob as he insisted on being called—slipped his coat back on, then unsettled her yet again when he pulled a woolen plaid from the saddlebag. It was the hunting tartan of Clan Grant—a pattern of blue, green, and black checks. Jessie had seen a similar plaid blanket in Lord Strathburn's study. The tartan worn by the local Black Watch regiment also had the same sett, the threads woven in much the same way.

Rob had noticed her frown. "I used to serve in the Watch hereabouts," he said by way of explanation as he wrapped the plaid around himself with sure efficiency.

A soldier, then. Her earlier observation had been correct. If Rob could be taken at his word, of course. But even if he'd served in the Watch, that was no guarantee she was in safe hands. Jessie had heard many a terrible story about the conduct of both dragoons and Watchmen during and after the Rebellion—tales of rape and pillage and murder which made her sick to the stomach. She prayed Rob was the man of honor he appeared to be and wouldn't turn out to be a violent brute of a soldier…or a man like Simon.

All further coherent thought scattered when Rob swung up behind her with easy grace. As one of his strong arms slid around her to hold her steady, Jessie appreciated how he was careful to avoid contact with her wounded arm. His other hand lazily flicked the reins and their horse moved forward toward the sea of impenetrable fog that cloaked the floor of the glen. Tobias trailed along somewhere behind them.

It wasn't long before a light, icy drizzle began to drift over them. Jessie shivered and at these close quarters, Rob immediately noticed her discomfort as well. He wrapped his plaid around her, binding her closer. Part of her knew she should be shocked at the flagrant intimacy of being pulled against him, but in truth, she was glad to be the recipient of the heat emanating from Rob's lean body.

To divert her attention away from the disconcerting yet strangely welcome sensation, Jessie focused again on the puzzle that was Mr. Robert Burnley.

"I take it ye're acquainted with the Earl of Strathburn and his family, Mr. Burnley?" she ventured, refusing to use his Christian name as he'd requested. She needed to put some sort of distance between them—to insert some semblance of formality into the situation, given there was nothing remotely appropriate about the way they were seated. With each swaying step of the horse, her back and rump pressed and rubbed up against the man.

There was a tense pause. Rob's fingers clenched around the reins, but he soon answered smoothly enough. "Aye, I am. Although it's been some time since I last encountered Lord Strathburn, I'm sure he won't mind that I'm using his hunting lodge. While we've drifted apart in recent years, our ties are…long-standing."

They both lapsed into silence. Jessie's mind wandered between thoughts and questions as insubstantial and half-formed as the roiling fog. She should ask Rob about the exact nature of his association with the earl and his family. For instance, was he an old friend of Simon's? Or perhaps he was a distant relation? Or…or could he actually be Lord Strathburn's long-lost son, Robert Grant?

Jessie knit her brows as she turned over the idea in her mind. Rob Burnley had blue eyes that were a similar hue to Lord Strathburn's… But then, many folk had blue eyes. Furthermore, the bearded, granite-jawed Scot who was currently sharing his horse and plaid with her bore little resemblance to the fresh-faced young man she'd seen in the earl's miniature portrait. She'd assumed the youth was Lord Lochrose, but perhaps it wasn't. Maybe it had been a picture of the earl himself in his younger days. Or his own father. She had no way of knowing.

In any event, Jessie was suddenly finding it difficult to think about anything except her own immediate discomfort. The unsettling physicality of the man behind her, the persistent pain of her injuries, and the bone-chilling rain were all beginning to wear on her.

Several quiet minutes passed before Rob startled her out of her fog of fatigue with a question of his own. "What were you doing up here all alone, Jessie?"

Jessie's pulse began to hammer and her mouth grew dry. What should she tell him? How much of her situation should she disclose? "I-I was… I was on my way to Grantown…and I—" She broke off and swallowed. "I enjoy long challenging walks and I wanted to see the countryside. But then, as ye know, I sprained my ankle." Her explanation sounded weak, implausible even to her own ears.

"Mmm, I see…" Rob paused and the taut moment stretched. "So I take it you reside nearby? You too seem familiar with Lord Strathburn and his family."

Rob's tone had been neutral, but even so, Jessie fought to control another surge of panic. She needed to think clearly. Although she was alone and essentially defenseless, if she implied a close sort of relationship with the earl—rather than revealing that she was only the factor's daughter and a mere companion to Lady Strathburn—Rob would believe she had connections in high places. While he hadn't behaved in an untoward manner—at least so far—she might be safer if the man believed she was under Lord and Lady Strathburn's protection.

"I-I've been… I've been staying at Lochrose Castle for several weeks," she stammered, silently cursing her incoherence. It made her sound like the nervous liar she was.

Rob's deep voice was at her ear. "And will not the earl and his family be expecting you home, then? I wonder why they've let you roam so far by yourself."

Though he waited, Robert did not receive an answer to his question. Tension seemed to be vibrating through Jessie's whole body. Not only was she shivering, but her spine and shoulders were as rigid as the stony peaks surrounding them. He'd obviously terrified the lass into silence by making such a point of her isolation.

Part of Robert regretted that this relentless line of questioning was destroying any hope of forging some sort of rapport between them—but he needed to know if Simon or anyone else would miss the young woman and come looking for her…and in doing so, find him.

He was just about to ask her something else, when Jessie spoke. "Aye, I expect Lord and Lady Strathburn will be verra worried by now," she said. "They may send out the Watch to look for me."

What a brave, clever lass she is. "Yes, I'm sure they will, Jessie," Robert remarked, if only to reassure the young woman that he meant her no harm. Other than what he'd already inflicted on her, albeit accidentally.

And all because I had a stupid bloody craving for venison.

Robert couldn't help but admire the lass's strategy of hinting that she had powerful allies who would be concerned about her welfare. Her choice of words was interesting too. She'd said that Lord and Lady Strathburn would be worried. Not Simon… But he'd witnessed Simon and Jessie's tryst…

Robert seriously doubted that Jessie Munroe and his brother had any sort of formal understanding. For one thing, Lady Ogilvy hadn't mentioned that Simon was betrothed. Of course, their dinner party conversation in Jamaica had taken place a few months ago, so the situation might have changed. But Robert knew down to his very bones that Simon wasn't the marrying kind. And surely the lass would disclose such a significant relationship if she were actually engaged to the Earl of Strathburn's son.

Of course, Jessie might be his father's ward. In that case, the Watch and other clansmen would definitely be sent out to search for her.

Damn it. Robert gnashed his teeth together in frustration. He really didn't need this. But then, would the Watch or perhaps even Simon be out scouring these upland glens and corries on a diabolical evening like this? Despite the dangerous conditions they just might, but with any luck they'd wait until morning. In any case, to be on the safe side, he and Tobias would need to take turns keeping watch throughout the night.

The ride continued at a painstakingly slow pace. The freezing rain grew steadily heavier and the scudding clouds of thick fog made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Every now and again, thunder growled and lightning briefly illuminated the clouds around them. The air was charged with strange currents.

Robert wrapped his plaid tighter around Jessie, hugging her close in an effort to share his body heat, but it was all for naught. It wasn't long before both of them were soaked and Jessie was quaking with cold. No doubt she was also experiencing a considerable degree of pain and even emotional shock.

Despite the abysmal conditions, Robert was astounded to find himself being overtaken by a powerful physical reaction to having Jessie so close to his own body. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the soft swell of her breast rubbing against the inside of his arm as he held her securely on his horse, or the press of her lower back and the firm roundness of her buttocks rocking rhythmically against his groin.

Christ, what am I thinking? Now was not the time to be experiencing any kind of lustful stirrings in his breeks. Besides, if he were to hazard a guess, the lass was only in her early twenties; she was not the sort of woman he usually dallied with.

Robert's thoughts continued to race as his horse trod steadfastly forward through the driving sheets of rain. What was Miss Jessie Munroe really doing up here all alone? She'd been essentially wandering in the middle of nowhere, with only a satchel containing a few pieces of food, some guineas, and underclothes. Robert had discreetly looked inside her bag as he'd secured it to the saddle. It was difficult to believe that she'd decided to negotiate such a challenging and largely inhospitable route through the mountains to Grantown on a mere whim, especially since there was a perfectly good road between Lochrose and the village. Surely his father or Simon would have offered the lass a carriage, or at the very least, a horse.

There had to be another reason as to why she'd ventured up here. A significant reason.

Robert's thoughts returned to Jessie and Simon's encounter by the loch. The pair must be embroiled in an illicit love affair. That was the only scenario that made sense. Perhaps they'd arranged a clandestine rendezvous at the hunting lodge. That would explain Jessie's foray up here and even the contents of her satchel. Indeed, Robert had used the lodge for such assignations on a handful of occasions in his youth. It was secluded—the perfect place for lovers to meet without fear of being disturbed.

However, Robert dismissed the notion that Simon would be anywhere about at the present moment. When he and Tobias had left the lodge mid-afternoon to go hunting, neither of them had seen a soul in the glen until they'd encountered Jessie. Unless Simon had changed dramatically in the last ten years, it was not likely that his lily-livered half-brother would be up here, particularly in this foul weather. He had neither the guts nor the stamina. He probably would've turned his tail homeward at the first spot of rain for fear of catching a cold.

The memory of Simon kissing Jessie so passionately—so possessively—invaded Robert's mind. Anger surged and he resisted the urge to pull this lovely young woman harder against him.

Don't be an idiotic fool, Robert. You don't know her. She's not yours. She can share her affections with whomever she pleases.

Precisely why he was so envious of Simon's claim on Jessie—formal or otherwise—Robert did not know. Right now, it was useless to examine his completely irrational feelings. He needed to focus his energies on working out how this unexpected turn of events—injuring and now taking care of Jessie—would affect his plans to reunite with his father, and ultimately his chance at securing a pardon. One thing was certain, given the appalling weather and Jessie's condition: there was no way in Hades he could return to Lochrose Castle tonight.

At long last Robert noticed the shadowy forms of trees through the driving rain and blanketing fog. They weren't far from shelter now. Jessie's head had lolled back against his shoulder some time ago, though he suspected she'd passed out rather than fallen asleep. Regardless of the risk to himself, and now regrettably Tobias through association, there was no doubt in his mind that he'd taken the right course of action in assisting the girl. He couldn't have left her at the burn, all alone and wounded. Especially not on a wet and freezing night like this. She could easily perish from exposure to the cold.

So now he faced a monumental dilemma: what was he going to do with Jessie after tonight? Rescuing damsels in distress had not figured into his plans whatsoever, especially damsels that may be in league with his half-brother. She was undoubtedly a canny lass. Even though she'd been gripped by pain and befuddled with shock and fear, she'd unerringly noticed Tobias's slip when the lad had referred to him as my lord . They both needed to be extremely careful about what they said around her. Robert would need to remind Tobias later to only ever refer to him as Rob. Her loyalties were unknown, and revealing his true identity to the lass could very well be a death sentence.

But that begged the question, did Jessie even know of the Jacobite, Robert Grant, the long-lost Master of Strathburn and Viscount Lochrose? That after all this time, he was still a wanted man with a price on his head? Now Robert had returned—and if she had clear designs on his half-brother—would she also see him as a direct threat to Simon's future claim to the Earldom of Strathburn?

Robert released a long, low breath. He was not sure how far he could trust Jessie Munroe, if at all.