She lifted her head and braced herself. “I slept with him.”
The boy frowned. “Why would ye tell him how and when he dies after having sex with him? Was it that bad?”
“Robbie!”
“Well.” He shrugged. “I may not be experienced in such things, but I am not a numpty. Are ye not supposed to cuddle and whisper syrupy stuff ye regret later after ye’ve had a good tumble?”
“I refuse to discuss lovemaking protocol—”
“Did ye use protection?” he interrupted.
She clenched her teeth. While his question made her proud that he thought of such things, now was not the time. “We may be in danger here.”
“Why?”
“Because he may think I am a witch, since I told him I had seen his future.”
He pulled in a deep breath and blew out a heavy sigh. “Ye messed up big, aye?”
She nodded. “I am sorry.”
He gathered up the crocks, rolled them in a smaller cloth, then placed them in the middle of a larger one. “I’ll pack up all this. Ye get dressed, then we will be on our way.”
“I am sorry,” she repeated. Robbie had fallen in love with this place as soon as they set foot in it. She had ruined that as well. Her heart ached for them both: his loss of an exciting life at Éirich Castle and her loss of Teague.
He shrugged. “Least I can wear my trainers now and not worry about coming up with another lie.”
Chapter Ten
Hanged, drawn, thenquartered. In seven months’ time. According to the woman who just gave him the most incredible night of his life. Teague stormed through the keep, ignoring anyone who tried to catch his attention and stop him.
“I am not to be disturbed,” he bellowed before slamming the library door shut behind him.
He crossed the room to the double doors and stared out at the garden. Teeth clenched as tight as his gut, he wrestled with the urge to punch through the glass. Nay, he would not weaken to that temptation. The glass was too dear to destroy in a fit of anger. He had not fought and scraped all his days to fritter away his clan’s niceties now.
Instead of shattering the panes, he shoved the doors open wide. A deep inhale of the cool Highland morning did nothing to calm him. He slowly shook his head, still battling with Mila’s prophecy. It wasn’t merely her prophecy that troubled him. It was the damned mystery of the irresistible woman he couldn’t oust from his thoughts. God Almighty help him. How could life have tasted so sweet last night, then turned so sour today?
The library door opened, then closed with a click of the latch and a thump.
Teague didn’t turn. “I said I was not to be disturbed.” The intruder better heed the order if they valued their hide.
“A messenger arrived.” Calder ignored the threat. “Sunderland is dead and his papers seized. Walpole has agents searching for more evidence against the Cause. Several have already been arrested.”
“So it begins.” Teague went to the long mahogany cabinet covered in decanters and bottles. He selected his best whisky, filled a pair of glasses, and waved Calder over. “None of our missives to Sunderland bore any specific names or locations. I took great pains to ensure that and always wrote in code.” He paused for a long, deep drink while debating whether to share all that he knew. “But if any of our other acquaintances are taken, I canna say the same for them.” He hoped their allies had enough sense to observe the same precautions.
Calder frowned down at the glass of whisky while slowly rotating it between his fingers. “What did ye mean byso it begins?”
Teague looked up from his drink and studied Calder, still debating. The man had proven his trustworthiness many times. He couldn’t recall a single incident where this chosen brother of his had ever failed him. “What would ye say if I told ye I will be arrested in November then hanged, drawn, and quartered in December?”
Calder raked off his tam and crushed it in his fist. “I would say that is a damn sorry jest indeed.”
With a tip of his head toward Calder’s glass, Teague smiled. “Drink yer whisky, man. I have a tale to tell ye.”
“If ye dinna mind, I would rather hear it sober.”
“Lady Mila came to my room last night.” He topped off his glass before continuing. It might be early in the day, but this sorry business required drink, and plenty of it. “And this morning, she begged me to stay away from Stirling for a year or more. She saw my death in a vision.”
Calder downed his whisky and held it out for another. He stole a glance back at the door, then leaned closer. “Ye think she be a witch, or mayhap a white lady?”
