anything scarlet in nature, Jenny would consider herself a lucky woman. She and her men had been forced to split into three groups to keep the bastards off their tail, but even that wasn’t enough. She spent the tense ride worrying nonstop about whether one of their other parties had been caught.
And that was nothing on her thoughts of Toran. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her, kissed her, and she’d just left him there assuming that she’d see him again. What if she didn’t? What if he decided to stay with Dirk? What if staying with Dirk got him killed?
Her chest tightened at the thought, and bile burned the back of her throat. Part of her wished she’d have stayed. The other part knew she could not leave her mother alone, that she could not allow her brother to reclaim Mackintosh lands.
Damn ye, Hamish!
Of course, that was when the first part of her doubts questioned her instinct. What if Hamish hadn’t been at the battle at Falkirk for different reasons entirely? What if he was in London? There was a possibility. But her gut refused to believe it. Instinct bid her to know deep down that her brother was marching on Cnàmhan Broch.
Hamish was a coward. He’d not want to face her head-on. She knew that. He was the sort who would have lain in wait and pounced on their holding the moment she was gone. Saints, but she prayed she wasn’t too late.
“All clear,” Jenny said, when the last of the dragoons they’d been hiding from had not shown their faces for at least a quarter of an hour.
She led her men back onto the road, but at a slower pace so as to hear better. The sun was starting to set, and soon they’d be riding in the dark. They needed to stop and hide for the night.
The sound of an approaching rider had them all scrambling off the road, hearts pounding, as they worked to silence their horses.
Bloody hell!
She kept her eye on the road in the waning light, waiting for the dragoon to pass, but no flash of red assaulted her eyes. Instead, the man wore a plaid, frock coat, and kilt. And she’d know that hard frame anywhere. Toran.
Jenny leapt out into the middle of the road, her pistol drawn.
“Dinna move,” she said, repeating what she’d said to him the very first time they met. “Else I put a bullet through your heart.”
Even in the waning light, she could see recognition dawn on Toran’s face along with his slow grin. “What’s to say I willna put a bullet in yours first?”
Jenny tossed her head, smiled at him, her eyes full of teasing. “Ye’re outnumbered, sir. Let’s say ye did pull your weapon afore I took my shot, ’twould be wasted, for there’d be five more cutting through ye before ye were able to see the result.” They could be set upon by dragoons at any moment, true, but this moment of connection was important.
Toran worked to hide his grin, ice-blue eyes boring into hers and making her body sing with the need to leap upon him. “Then I’ll keep my weapon where it is and trust ye no’ to end my life.”
Jenny took several steps forward. “Glad to have ye back with us. Ye nearly scared us to death, soldier. Why are ye alone?” She peered around his horse, making out the shadows around them as trees, boulders, and .
“By choice, Mistress J. The rest of the men are with Dirk.”
Jenny nodded, meeting his gaze once more, afraid to ask the question but needing to know the answer. “How many did we lose in battle?”
“Two. Robert Finley and Daniel Mackintosh.”
A lance of grief hit her heart, and she bowed her head for a moment of silence. “They fought for their prince.”
“Aye, and for ye. They died heroes.”
Jenny swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Wounded?”
“A few dozen. Some more seriously than others.”
Jenny nodded and again forced her tongue to form words. “And Dirk?”
“He is well. A few scrapes, took a bayonet to the shoulder, but he’s been sewn up and is walking around, prepared to lead the men in your stead.”
“Did he…” She bit her lip, eyes lowering before she could bring them back up again. She was asking this part more for him than for Dirk. “Did he understand why?”
“Aye,” Toran said softly. “He is with ye all the way.”
That was a relief. She itched to reach for him, to have him