“And you will return to see him?” Jeannie leaned toward him as she asked, her whole body aching for his touch. Was this how men felt in the thrall of whisky, as if they might die without just a bit more? She experienced a flash of sympathy for her father, and Geordie.
She would not ask Finnan to return to her, no. But to Danny? Surely.
“I will try to collect him when ’tis dark. I hope he will be able to travel by then.” He adjusted the leather bag and winced when he moved his left arm. It must be painful, but she would never have guessed that, last night.
The memory of his touch still whispered over her skin as he stepped out the door with her following.
Morning mist clothed the glen and rose sluggishly, lit by the new sun. A fortuitous time for him to be away, but she wanted to bury both fists in his plaid and hold him.
“I will worry for you,” she said helplessly. Long for you. But she did not add that. Could he not see it in her eyes as he turned and looked at her?
Oh, and he appeared like a young god with the hazy light dancing around him, hair warmed to red, and that dangerous, seductive brightness in his eyes.
“And I for you,” he returned. “Danny makes a dangerous presence in your home. Should they come to your door, do not let them in for any reason.”
“How am I to keep them out?”
“Tell them your maid is ill, raving. Say it is some vile contagion.” He smiled ruefully. “I do not doubt Aggie can play the part. Meanwhile I will do my best to keep the hounds away from here.”
“How?”
“I will allow them a glimpse or two of me and then lead them a hare’s chase down the other end of the glen.”
Jeannie’s eyes widened in horror. “But you are not fit, hampered by that arm.”
“Fit enough for the task.” Just as in her bed. “And I can move much more quickly without Danny.”
Jeannie, not happy with the plan, did not know how to dissuade him, and fell silent in dismay.
His gaze caught hers. “Thank you, Jeannie.”
“For keeping Danny? I do not mind.”
“Nay.” He leaned forward, and she felt his lips, a source of warmth in the cool morning air, touch her cheek. In a whisper meant for her ears alone, he said, “For last night.”
Jeannie’s heart broke into still more jagged pieces, and she spoke the words she had vowed she would not. “You will return?”
“Aye, tonight. Keep him quiet till then.” And just like that he stepped away and disappeared into the mist as if he had never existed.
Jeannie stood on her doorstep a moment longer, arms wrapped about herself, eyes searching for a hint of him and but one thought in her mind: When he returned tonight, would she have him in her bed again?
She reentered the cottage, only to be met by Aggie’s accusing stare. The maid bent over the hearth, stirring a pot of oatmeal, but all her attention focused on her mistress.
“I am that shocked, mistress, truly I am.”
“Eh?” Had Aggie observed Finnan’s parting kiss?
Aggie waved a hand. “For you to appear so, barely clad, in front of a man. You do know, mistress, in strong light he could see right through that night dress?”
Jeannie drew breath to speak, but Aggie did not give her the chance. “And,” she added with heat, not like the servant she purported to be but the friend she truly was, “you were with him last night.”
How did Aggie know that?
She need not ask; all fired up, Aggie rushed on. “I woke in the night, and you were gone from the cot in the loft. I grew worried that the lad, here, had taken a turn for the worse and you had risen to help tend him. But when I peeked down the ladder, Danny still slept, and no one else was in this room.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Aggie emphasized, her cheeks turning pink. “There was but one other place you could be. And I heard whispers—”
