Chapter 17
Niall watched Charlotterun from him. It took everything he had not to go after her. But he knew if he did, he would be lost. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving into the fire that was burning through his blood and taking her. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from confirming everything that the gossips of Edinburgh said about them.
He’d promised to protect her. The last thing he wanted was to have a hand in destroying her.
And yet...
He closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists, trying to get a hold of himself. He didn’t know why Charlotte Douglas, a lass not even of this time, was having this effect on him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about her, why she was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, or why he couldn’t look at her without wanting to rip her clothes off.
Aargh. He had to get a grip, for both their sakes.
Opening his eyes, he took several deep breaths, inhaling the scent of hay and horse, and allowing his racing pulse to settle a little. He bent to retrieve the pamphlets he’d dropped when Charlotte had kissed him, and smoothed them out, scanning the angry rhetoric that filled the pages.
What had possessed Charlotte to go to MacAllister’s manor and steal these? She was more headstrong and reckless than any woman he’d ever met. Perhaps that’s why he was so attracted to her. She was brave and fearless—
And stupid,he reminded himself. She was lucky MacAllister hadn’t been at home. If he’d caught her snooping around...
He read the pamphlets again. What would his superiors make of these? Would it be enough to charge MacAllister with sedition? Or at least investigate further?
Perhaps. Crumpling the pamphlets in his fists, he stalked out of the stable and across the courtyard to the house. Once inside, he yelled at the servants that he wasn’t to be disturbed, then raced up the steps to his study. Slamming the door shut behind him, he seated himself at his desk and took a fresh piece of parchment from his desk drawer.
Taking the cipher and laying it alongside the parchment, he carefully penned a coded letter detailing what had been discovered at MacAllister’s estate and outlining what he thought they should do next. It wasn’t proof, he knew that, but surely the printing of these pamphlets, along with MacAllister’s campaign against Niall—a campaign orchestrated, no doubt because MacAllister suspected he was watching him—must be enough to warrant further investigation. He couldn’t move against MacAllister alone—that would be politically suicidal—but with the power of royal decree behind him? That was an entirely different matter.
He finished the letter and sealed it with a blob of wax stamped with his seal. Even this was coded. If the letter fell into the wrong hands, the seal would not reveal who sent it, but his superiors would be able to tell from the pattern in the wax where it came from. Just one of a seemingly endless list of precautions.
When it was finished, he called for Tanner, his most trusted messenger. When the man stepped into his study, he held the sealed letter out to him.
“Make sure this is delivered today. Ye know where to take it.”
Tanner reached out and took the letter. “Aye, my laird.”
The messenger left and Niall blew out a breath and laced his fingers behind his head. It was done. Now all he could do was wait.
***
CHARLIE RETURNED TOthe pottery but couldn’t seem to settle, pacing up and down, checking the kiln for the umpteenth time, hovering over her helpers as they worked and generally working herself up.
Niall had rejected her. She’d kissed him and he’d rejected her. Why did that hurt so much? Why did it feel like a knife to the gut?
She reached the door and flung it open, striding out into the overcast afternoon. A team of Knox’s men were busy hauling the freshly cooled bricks into a small cart with a donkey in the traces, ready to be carted over to the building site. Already a fresh set of bricks were being taken out of the kiln by her small army of helpers. She’d crafted such a well-oiled operation here that it carried on whether she was here or not.
The pottery didn’t need her. Niall didn’t need her. She was back to being a useless bit of baggage, a spare part that didn’t fit.
Self-pity?she thought wryly.That’s a bad look, Charlie.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Deep down, she knew Niall had done the right thing. Tell that to her heart, though. It felt like it had been torn in half.
