in light, but that didn’t help much. She stood for a moment, making out the shapes of the ladder leading upstairs, the table and chairs, the long trestle table where Archie had lain previously.
The men stood near the hearth with cups of ale in their hands.
“Mistress. Would ye care for some ale?” Toran asked from where he stood near the hearth.
The drink was likely to make her sleepy, but she didn’t want to refuse and come off rude now that they’d formed somewhat of a truce the night before. “Aye, thank ye.”
Toran pushed away from the hearth, limber muscles fluid as he poured her a drink.
She raised her cup, taking a small sip.
Archie gulped down the liquid and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Your servant, the healer, she was bonnie.”
Jenny didn’t reply. What a laugh Annie would get if she heard herself—a noble-born lass—being called a servant. Jenny decided she would be more flattered about being called bonnie.
“Will she be back?” Toran asked.
A spike of jealousy, very unlike her, gave Jenny an unpleasant feeling in her chest. “Not likely.”
Archie drained his cup and then bit into a piece of jerky Toran passed him, a wrinkle of disappointment on his brow. “I’ll be back. Need to attend a private matter.” And then he was gone, leaving her alone with Toran.
“Did ye have a chance to study the map?” he asked, sitting down at the table.
Jenny took the seat opposite him. “Aye. It is well laid out. Ye’ve an incredible memory.”
He smiled. “Aye. My mind seems to paint a portrait with my memories.”
“That is verra lucky.” Jenny admired those with the ability, and she’d not met many.
Toran leaned back in his chair, studying her through hooded lashes. “I’m lucky ye found us when ye did.”
“Ye seem clever enough to have found an escape once. I’m sure ye could have done so again.”
He shrugged and took a leisurely sip of his ale. “All the same. A question, Mistress.”
“Aye?”
“Ye know of our clan. When do we get to know of yours?”
Jenny mulled over his inquiry for a beat. “In due time.”
“Come now, I’ve given ye the map. Having done so is certain to get me killed should King George supporters find out.”
“Ye’re no stranger to putting your life in danger.”
“And neither are ye.”
“Are ye suggesting that with ye, I am?”
He chuckled and leaned forward, his blue eyes mesmerizing as he locked them on hers. “Quite the opposite. Listen, ye clearly need more from me. So I’ll share something else.”
She waited, barely blinking.
“The Fox is double-dealing.”
Jenny frowned. “Everyone knows that.”
“Aye. But not everyone knows he’s got a spy within his own clan.”
“And how do ye know?” She crossed her legs beneath the table, finding it hard not to fidget with the excitement of such new information.
Toran leaned even closer across the table until she could make out the flecks of darker blue near his pupils. “Because I met the bastard at the garrison.”
“Who was he?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Another Fraser. I didna catch his name, but I’d know him as well as I know my own reflection.”
Jenny uncrossed her legs. “Because of your ability to paint a portrait from memory.”
“Exactly.” He refilled her mug of ale. “Where do we go from here, Mistress? A raid? Straight to sacking the garrison?”
“We’re not quite ready yet.”
“What have we left to do?”
“Gather more men, more weapons.”
“What about more women? Are ye the only soldier?” While his face remained passive with only a slight hint of interest, his body was tense.
“There are other female recruits.”
“Any MacGillivrays?”
“Nay.”
His gaze sharpened, and she felt a prickle of warning racing over her spine.
“None at all?”
“Have ye one in mind?”
He shrugged. “I’m surprised. I’d heard there was.”
“Ah.” Toran had heard right, but she wasn’t ready to share that bit of the rebels’ painful history just yet. “I’m sorry to disappoint ye.”
Toran took a long sip of his ale. “Perhaps we can rectify that.”
“The women in my forces will fight, Toran. They are not to be used as typical army camp women.”
Toran pressed a mocking hand to his chest. “Och, ye wound me. Have I proven myself to be such a rogue?”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “That has yet to be seen.”
Archie returned then, breaking the intense spell, and Toran sat back in his chair, winking at her conspiratorially.
“What did I miss?” Archie asked, a great smile on his face. He was clearly the less intense of the two cousins and generally seemed like a cheerful person.