“Without the support of the French?” Dirk started, but she cut him off.
“I’m well aware of the risks, Cousin. But without risk, we do no’ succeed. The prince needs to know he has support here, and the more clans that show their loyalty, the more will join in. If he’s forced to return to France, there’s no telling when he’ll be able to muster enough confidence from the Scots to return.” She glanced at Toran, and he had the distinct feeling she was talking about him. He was a risk to her. Did that mean she believed in him?
Did that mean she needed him?
It was too much to hope for. The lass was fiercely independent, and that was one of the reasons he admired her so much. She didn’t cower in the face of danger or shrink before a man simply because he was a man. Nothing seemed to intimidate her. And Toran found all of it…arousing.
So to think that this woman, who faced down dragoons and other demons, might need him—the thought had desire flooding his veins.
“Aye, J.” Dirk’s voice was tight. He didn’t agree, but he didn’t seem about to argue with her either.
Toran respected that about Dirk. The man clearly had opinions, but he was loyal to Jenny and willing to do her bidding.
Jenny turned to stare at him, waiting for his response. There was only one response Toran could give her. Only one he wanted to give her.
“Aye, Mistress J. I am but your servant.”
Jenny gave a quick shake of her head. “Ye are no’ just my servant, Fraser. Ye’re a soldier and a Jacobite.”
“Aye.” He grinned, wanting to stalk across the room and bend her over his arm as he kissed the tartness from her tone.
“I will leave it up to the two of ye to decide who else comes with us. I want the party to remain small, like our nightly hunts. We’ll also need to arrange for a new hiding place for our supplies. We canna risk a raid while we’re away. We were lucky once that Boyd was afraid of the measles, but he’ll be back soon enough, and he willna be stopped.”
“When do ye propose we leave?” Toran asked.
“I want to leave in two days’ time. I dinna want us racing across the moors and catching the notice of English scouts. I also dinna mind if we arrive a few days afore the proposed date to throw the dragoons off. If everyone arrives on the same date at the proper time, without the French troops to back us up, we may have a battle on our hands that we canna handle.”
“Is there anything ye canna handle?” Toran forced himself not to wink at her.
Dirk made a gurgling noise of disgust, but Jenny swung her gaze to meet his, a brow raised. “No’ that I’ve come across yet,” she said. “Is that a challenge, sir? Would ye care to take it to the field or the board again? I daresay, if put to the test, I’m strong enough to sling wool too.”
“I have no doubt that ye can.” He grinned at her. “And this is why I’d follow ye to the ends of the earth if ye asked me to.”
She stared at him, clear contemplation in her gaze, and he waited for her to completely rip his heart out. When she lifted her chin, staring down her nose at him, he imagined how her retort would cut. How he’d bleed slowly to death but no one would see it.
“I dinna require ye to follow me to the ends of the earth, Fraser. All that I ask is that ye remain loyal to your rightful king, that ye do your best to protect our people, and that ye kick Sassenach arse on the battlefield.”
Toran placed his hand over his heart. “I swear to ye now that I can and will do all of those things.”
“Good.” Despite her formality, there was a flash of longing in her eyes that he did not miss, just before she turned her back and dismissed them both.
* * *
Two days later, in the dead of night, Jenny mounted her horse in the same way she’d done at least a hundred times before over the past couple of years. Only this time, she was going to finally meet Prince Charles and pledge her fealty in person.
Armed to the teeth and with enough provisions to last them the journey, she, Dirk, John, Toran, and Archie were ready to depart.