The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(83)

Janet could see the conflicting emotions warring on his face and almost felt bad for pressing him. Almost.

She understood the source of his dilemma; she just didn’t see it as an insurmountable problem. Not after what he’d said.

She still couldn’t believe it: he’d not only thanked her, but also had admitted that she was good at what she did. He’d seen what she could do and recognized how she could be useful. “Brilliant.” The admiration in his voice had nearly made her weep.

After days of wondering whether all she was doing was banging her head against a stone wall, she’d finally gotten through to him. He wasn’t like her father or Duncan—or most of the other men she’d met. He was different. She was right: his apparent lack of regard for women had been a consequence of ignorance and inexperience rather than true belief. He didn’t see her as a helpless accessory or as a serf, but as someone capable, valued, and worthy of respect—like Magnus’s wife, Helen, the healer he’d mentioned.

It was what she’d always wanted from a man but never dreamed of finding. She was more certain than ever that this was right. How could he hold her in his arms like this, with their bodies pressed together intimately, and deny it? She wanted him to touch her. To make love to her. She wanted to feel his body connected to hers and know what it was to experience passion.

The problem was convincing him.

It was disheartening to think that she’d held so tightly to something for twenty-seven years, and then when she finally was ready to let go, was having to persuade a man to take it.

“This is between you and me, Ewen. I see no reason for Robert to be involved at all. If you want me, and I want you, why should anything else matter?”

He gave a harsh laugh, devoid of even the illusion of amusement. “You can’t be that naive. You know that isn’t the way it is done. Sharing a bed is not that simple.”

She lifted her chin, not liking his tone. “It should be.”

“Perhaps, but until that day, a noblewoman is not free to give her innocence wherever she wishes.”

Janet knew he spoke the truth, but it didn’t mean she had to agree with it—or abide by it. “There is no reason Robert needs to know.”

He stiffened. “I would know. I would not dishonor you like that.”

Janet glanced up at him sitting behind her, seeing the steely expression set on his face. That infernal nobility of his was proving problematic again. “Because we are not to be married?”

The look he gave her was fierce, searing in its intensity. His jaw clenched even tighter. “Because we cannot be married.”

His vehemence took her aback. She was silent for a moment, absorbing the implications. He must have taken her protestations against marriage to heart. Or was it something else? Cannot … Perhaps he was alluding to their differences in station?

But somehow it felt as if he’d just thrown down the gauntlet. And despite his recent epiphany, she wasn’t sure she wanted to pick it up. Sharing a bed, as he’d put it, was one thing, but trusting a man to put her fate in his hands was another. Did she want to marry him?

Nineteen

After days of being hunted, the ride from Cuingealach, the little village in the hills, to Ayrshire proved disconcertingly uneventful.

They crossed the hills between Douglas and Sanquhar, and continued west through the Airds Moss. By late afternoon, they neared their destination.

Though the English presence was still heavily felt, this was William Wallace country, and many of the martyred patriot’s followers had come over to Bruce. A number of Wallace’s relatives lived in Sundrum, including a cousin who the Highland Guard used for occasions such as this.

Ewen should be relieved. His mission was all but complete—or would be in the morning, when they met Hawk and Chief in Ayr with the birlinn. He would return Janet to her family, and he would go back to his duties with the Guard, tracking the next enemy or missing ally. Bruce would be grateful, and Ewen would be one step closer to restoring the name of Lamont—and, he hoped, the lands as well.

It was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he’d been fighting for.

Then why was he trying to eke out every minute on this horse? Why did it feel like the moment he let go of her, this would all be over?

But there was no “this.” There never had been. She couldn’t be his. He’d made that clear. He’d told her he couldn’t marry her, and from her silence since, it seemed she finally understood.

It was what he wanted.

So why was he disappointed that she hadn’t protested? Why had a tiny part of him hoped the idea of marriage to him wasn’t so inconceivable?

He stopped at a small burn in the Broad Wood to water the horse for the last time before reaching Sundrum. His leg was much improved since acquiring the mount, but it grew tight without movement, and it felt good to move about.

He wasn’t delaying.

Janet returned from tending her needs and sat on a rock by the stream, nibbling on a piece of dried beef, while he held the horse to water.

“Tell me about Helen.”

He glanced over at her in surprise. Not exactly the conversation he was expecting after their last. He stiffened slightly, wondering if she’d noticed something about his leg. He was careful not to favor the other, but the lass was too damned observant. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “She’s good at what she does?”