The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(68)

“For now,” he said. “With the horses and the river, the dogs will have trouble following the scent.”

“How did they pick it up in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I made damned sure we didn’t leave anything—”

He stopped, his gaze catching on a shimmering coil of golden hair that had slipped from its braid. Even in the mist, her golden head shone bright. Her bare golden head.

His mouth fell in a hard line, as the explanation for what had happened became clear. He swore. “Where is your cap?”

Fifteen

Janet’s hand went to her head reflexively. She was surprised to find smooth strands of hair under her palm instead of wool. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” She thought back. “It must have fallen off last night, when I slipped from the horse.”

He swore again, which was redundant in her opinion, as the look on his face said it all. He was furious. Beyond furious, actually. Irate. Stormy. The forty-days-and-forty-nights kind of stormy.

“That must be how they are tracking us.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

He stood and hauled her to her feet. She was half-surprised that he didn’t take her by the ear like a naughty pup. “Damn it, I told you we needed to be careful. No wonder they were able to follow us so quickly. You led them right to us.”

He didn’t need to say it; she knew what he was thinking. This is why a woman doesn’t belong here. A woman has no business in war. Go back to your nice little box and stay out of it.

She’d wanted so much to impress him, to show him that she could help as much as he could—in a different way, perhaps, but in a manner that was also valuable. Instead she’d proved his point. How could she expect him to see her a certain way if she made silly mistakes?

Janet wanted to argue with him. Her instinct was to defend herself, to try to talk her way out of it. But for once she didn’t have an excuse or an explanation. He wasn’t being unfair, he was only speaking the truth—even if most people wouldn’t have spoken it so plainly. But avoiding hurt feelings wasn’t Ewen’s forte. Nay, he was honest and straightforward to a fault.

Usually she didn’t mind. But she was scared and tired, having slept only a few hours in the last couple of days, and feeling unusually vulnerable after what had happened earlier. They’d shared something in the forest: an honesty of emotion that she wasn’t going to let him deny. She’d been so sure he was going to kiss her. So certain that he’d put aside whatever reservations he had. But he’d turned away from her again. And now …

Her hands twisted, a sick feeling growing in her stomach. “It was an innocent mistake.”

“A mistake that could have gotten us all killed.”

She flinched as much from the steely hardness in his gaze as from the verbal lash that went along with it. “I’ve said I’m sorry; I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Nothing. But next time I tell you something, try to follow orders.”

Janet had reached the limits of her passive acceptance of guilt. “I am not one of your men you can order about.”

“That is painfully clear. My men are much better disciplined.”

Now he wasn’t the only one who’d lost his temper; hers sparked like wildfire. Her twisting hands fisted at her side. “Fine. Women have no place on the battlefield—is that what you want me to say?”

His eyes flashed. He leaned closer to her and growled, “It’s a bloody good start.”

Janet wanted to stomp her foot in outrage. But as that would no doubt give him more fodder for treating her like a bairn, she tossed her head with a loud harrumph.

He was the most infuriating, patronizing, brutish, and blastedly unreasonable man she’d ever met!

And yet, even as he stood here taking her to task—which unfortunately in this case was deserved—a silly part of her still hoped that he would take her in his arms and tell her it was all right. Comfort her, as he’d done before. For such a formidably built man, he’d been surprisingly gentle.

But comfort was the last thing on his mind. “You’ll have to take off your clothes.”

She drew back. “My clothes?”

“Aye, all of them. And get in the river. You reek of bluebells; scrub every last bit of it from your hair and skin. We need to make sure they’ve lost the scent.”

“But …” She looked at the small pool below the falls. Even from here it looked freezing. And bluebells didn’t reek.

He clenched his jaw as if fighting for patience. “Damn it, can you just follow directions for once?”

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. She’d had just about enough of his brusque commands. A secret smile crept up her lips, as the devil inside her reared its ugly head.

I can follow directions, all right. “As you wish.”

She let the plaid drop from her shoulders and fall into a dark puddle at her feet.

He blinked.

Lifting a distinctly challenging brow, she unfastened her doublet, which joined the plaid at her feet a moment later.

He managed to find his voice by the time she’d kicked off her boots and started to shimmy the leather breeches over her hips.

“What are you doing?” he said—rather inanely, in her opinion.