The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(30)

While they waited for the bishop to appear, Janet suddenly found herself wondering what Ewen might say. As happy as Lamberton would be about the contact she’d made in Berwick, she didn’t think he’d be pleased to learn what had happened with the English soldiers near Melrose. She knew better than to think that Ewen would agree not to tell him, but there was no telling how he would make it sound if she let him be the one to relate it.

“I would appreciate it if you would let me explain to the bishop about what happened in the forest.”

The shrewd quirk of his brow told her how easily he’d guessed her thoughts. “I’m sure you would.”

She gritted her teeth. Whatever had changed between them, he still managed to rile her temper easily enough. “Perhaps you will tell him everything, then?”

His blue-gray eyes hardened to slate. “I think you’ve already used that bargaining marker, Sister.”

Janet felt her cheeks grow hot, knowing he was right. “I don’t know why you must be so difficult about everything. It’s not as if I’m not going to tell him.”

“Aye, but it’s how you’ll tell him that concerns me. I suspect you could make Armageddon sound like a day at the fair.”

Janet pursed her mouth. “You give me too much credit. I assure you, the bishop will understand the danger.”

“Aye, but do you?” His gaze held hers. “Promise me that you’ll leave the fighting to the men and stay out of it, and I’ll let you explain to the good bishop any way you want.”

With some effort, Janet bit back her angry retort. But inwardly, she fumed. Whatever confusing emotions she’d been feeling earlier disappeared. Leave the fighting to the men. Ewen Lamont saw women as nothing more than helpless, silly creatures who needed a big, strong man to protect them. Although he certainly qualified, she wanted nothing to do with a man who thought like that. Physical attraction—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. She should thank him for reminding her.

“You’d better decide quickly,” he said. “The bishop is coming.”

She didn’t hear anything. But she frowned a few moments later when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

“Very well, I agree,” she said, not feeling the least bit guilty about the lie. Although technically, it wasn’t a lie. She would let the men do the fighting, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t continue doing exactly what she’d been doing.

His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her, but she was saved from further enquiry by the arrival of the bishop.

Lamberton gave her a smile of greeting, but it fell from his face when he saw Ewen. Janet didn’t need to have much insight to see that the bishop didn’t like him. “You were expected back earlier,” he said to Ewen. “Your friends have been looking for you.”

Janet sensed Ewen’s immediate alertness. It was as if every muscle in his body flared to life. She tried not to remember all those muscles, or how good they felt—

She stopped before she could finish the thought. Heaven help her, he’d turned her into a wanton!

“When?” he asked.

“Immediately.” Lamberton handed him a missive, which Ewen quickly unfolded and read.

Her frown deepened. In addition to fluency in multiple languages, it seemed her ordinary soldier could also read.

But she would not get the chance to question him. He turned to her with a curt bow of his head. “My lady.”

My God, this was it. He was leaving. She would probably never see him again. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel as if someone was pulling the strings of her heart in opposite directions?

“Monsieur,” she managed in a whisper, returning his nod.

He hesitated as if he wanted to say something, but like her, struggled for the right words. He found the wrong ones. “Remember your promise.”

When the door closed behind him with a slam, Janet told herself it was good riddance. A stubborn, patronizing, women-are-the-weaker-vessel kind of man wasn’t for her. She’d had enough of that attitude from her father and brothers to last a lifetime. The past few years had proved what she’d already known: she was better off alone.

Ewen didn’t believe her for an instant. Although he had no intention of telling Lamberton what had happened, he intended to give Bruce a good earful of his opinion on letting nuns be involved as couriers.

But it would have to wait. The missive he’d received was from Hawk. Apparently, Sutherland was in trouble, and they needed to extract him and his wife from England as soon as possible. Ewen raced to the coast north of Berwick Castle and caught up with his fellow Guardsmen as they rode to Huntlywood, where Mary of Mar, Sutherland’s wife, was residing, in hopes of executing a rescue.

As it turned out, Sutherland didn’t need them. Their new “recruit” had proved himself worthy of his place in the Highland Guard by rigging a bridge with black powder to ensure his wife’s safety, and then by defeating a score of Englishmen to ensure his own.

But the journey back to Dunstaffnage Castle on Hawk’s birlinn had been twenty-four hours of sheer hell. Sutherland’s wife had gone into labor a short time before she’d arrived at the ship, and the sounds of her pained cries were not something Ewen would forget anytime soon.

Bloody hell, there was a reason men were not allowed anywhere near the birthing chamber. Hearing a lass in pain and not being able to do anything about it went against every primitive bone in the male body. Apparently he had a lot of them.