The Rebel Wears Plaid - Eliza Knight Page 0,103

Lady Mackintosh’s long grieving, but it made perfect sense. Her mother was the daughter of Jacobites, had been married to one, had long held the belief in the Stuart crown. Now was her time to shine in Jenny’s absence.

“All right. I will ask her.”

“Good. And ye’ll allow me to join in the fight?” Dirk looked relieved.

“Aye. We’ll split the contingents of men into thirds. But I need ye to choose men to remain behind. If ye’re not going to be here, I need strong men to protect my mother and in case Hamish returns. Mac would be perfect to take charge of the remaining men.”

“Aye, he would.”

“I trust ye,” Jenny said.

They parted ways, and she climbed the stairs on tired legs, her mind racing. They’d not been able to meet the prince at Glenfinnan, but this time they would be ready. She’d put a ball of lead into anyone who tried to stop them.

Jenny’s door was ajar, and she approached with caution, pushing it open with a fingertip to see inside before she crossed the threshold. Toran stood at her hearth, gazing into the small leap of flames that danced in the grate. The fire had been stoked since she’d been in the room last, an hour before.

“What are ye doing in my bedchamber?” She crossed the threshold then and shut the door, afraid that someone might see him there.

He glanced at the closed door and then back at her. “I’d kept it open for propriety’s sake.”

“I think ’tis fair to say that no matter what, ye standing in my bedchamber will raise an eyebrow. ’Tis a far cry from courting. And ye’ve no’ answered my question.”

Toran dropped his elbow from where it rested on the mantel and approached her. He stopped a few paces away, leaving enough space for them not to touch but not enough space for her to find her breath. The man seemed to suck all the air from the room when he was near. Golden flecks of candlelight glinted in his blue eyes, and his gaze swept over her, leaving her feeling as though he’d plucked open every button, untied every lace, and slid every inch of fabric from her skin.

“I like being in your bedchamber,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Get on with it then.” Her brusqueness belied how she was truly feeling, how she itched to leap forward and plant her lips on his.

“I’d argue for ye to stay away from the battle if I thought it would do any good.”

“But ye know me better than that.”

“Aye. So I wanted to instead remind ye of your promise.”

“My promise?” She raised a questioning brow.

“Aye, lass.” He moved closer, reaching a hand up to brush his fingertips against her cheek. She found herself leaning into his touch. “To kiss me when ’tis over.”

She tried to keep herself steady on her feet, her fingers curling into his shirt. For months she’d resisted him, hidden from him, but this temptation was just too much. “I’ll kiss ye now for good luck.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “I fear if I kiss ye now, in such proximity to the bed, I might convince ye to let me warm ye for the night.”

His tempting words slid over her skin like a caress, his breath faintly smelling of whisky and the heat of his hard body wrapping around her. She wanted to feel him consuming her. The man was intoxicating, with a potent power over her that left her without sense.

“I fear if I fall into bed with ye, I’ll never come out of it,” she admitted, feeling her face heat with the admission.

“’Tis the same for me, lass.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. Jenny closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his breath on her hair, his lips on her skin. She tipped her face up to his and kissed him then, needing to feel him if only for an instant. She kept the kiss swift and brief and then leapt away from him, putting the coldness of air between them.

Toran chuckled. “I have a little more control than that, sweet Jenny. I’ll no’ be tossing ye onto the bed like a heathen.”

Oh, but she wasn’t certain she would mind that. To be tossed onto the feather ticking and then to feel the press of his hard body on hers… A shiver of awareness swept through her.

“Och, lass, dinna look at me like that.” Toran’s voice was low and gravelly, and the way he looked at her

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