“If I had my phone, I’d show you.”She twitched her shoulders in what was either a shrug or a shiver.“But I left it back in Mairwen’s massage room with my clothes.”She tipped her head, studying the burning logs from a different angle as if fighting to calm herself with the dance of the fire.“If you have your cell phone, I could probably find it in your app store and show you.Although what does it really matter?I’m here, and looking back won’t change that.”She huffed a soft laugh, sounding more upset than amused.“Take my advice—never listen to an app.It will only lead you to disaster.”
“I dinna ken what anappis, Miss Tamson.”
“You might as well call me Jessa.After all, I am here in your bedroom.”Sarcasm dripped from her every word, giving him hope that she hadn’t lost her will to fight.She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands.“Andappis short for application.You download them onto your phone to do stuff with.Is that not what they call them here in Scotland?”
“I dinna ken what aphonemight be, either.”
She lifted her head and glared at him.“You’re making fun of me?Really?After all—” She flipped her hand at the room in general.“—allthis.Whateverthisis?”
He settled into a nearby chair, since she seemed determined to sit her fine round arse on the floor.“If ye mean am I jesting or mocking ye, I would never do that to a woman as unsettled as ye appear to be.”Were she not the mysterious temptation that had haunted his dreams for weeks now, he’d do what he normally did when a comely lass found her way to his bed.But whilst he wanted this one with a fury, a worrisome gnawing in his chest warned that Miss Jessa Tamson would be no casual dalliance.He shook his head at the irony.A desirable woman in his bedchamber, and he was afraid to touch her.“Now tell me, what is aphone?”
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him as she rubbed her knuckles against her temples.“Am I your captive?”
“Captive?Why would ye ask such a thing?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe because you told me you weren’t going to let me leave?”She paused in the massaging of her head and fixed him with a cutting glare.“Am I or not?”
“It’s the middle of the night, ye’re wearing nothing but yer shift, and ye’ve no idea where ye are, and I’d also wager, ye dinna ken the danger of a woman wandering alone in the Highlands.”He leaned toward her and fixed her with a sneer just as cutting as her glare.“I am protecting ye, lass.Ye should be thanking me.”
She narrowed her eyes, transforming her expression to anything but one of thankfulness.“Do you have anything for a headache?Aspirin?Ibuprofen?Acetaminophen?”
“I dinna ken what any of those things are, but I can rouse Mrs.Robeson and have her steep ye some tea.She uses willow bark and yarrow, among other things.Whatever else she brews always helps Henry with the aches he gets from that scar on his head.”
She stared at him, blinking slowly as if waking from a daze.“Willow bark and yarrow tea,” she repeated so softly he almost didn’t catch it.“You only use natural remedies here?”
“I dinna ken about them being natural.Herbs and Mrs.Robeson’s tisanes are the only remedies in this keep.”He rose, went to the door, and yanked on the bellpull.It might take longer this time of night, but one of the servants would heed his call, eventually.A troubling suspicion filled him.If she was a slave to what had eventually killed his first wife, he’d put her out into the night and send her on her way at once.Never would he go through that misery again.“Were ye looking for laudanum?”
“What is that?”
“Tincture of opium.”
Her mouth fell open, and her cheeks flared to an angry red.“Opium?I am not a druggie and do not appreciate that insinuation.”
Her reaction enabled him to unclench his fists and call upon what little calm he had left under the circumstances.“It was nay an accusation.Merely a question.I dinna allow that vileness in my keep.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she said.“It’s illegal—or at least it is where I come from.Is it not illegal here?”
“No.Not illegal in Scotland.”The things she said befuddled him completely, but he shook it off.After all, she was from the colonies.
A knock on the door pulled him from his churning thoughts.He yanked it open just enough to see into the hallway and found Sawny, the kitchen lad, yawning and rubbing his eyes.“Rouse Mrs.Robeson and have her brew a tea for an ache in the head.A strong one, mind ye.”
The boy straightened, immediately more alert, then bobbed a quick bow.“Aye, m’laird.’Tis sorry I am that ye’re feeling poorly.I’ll make haste.”
“Good lad.”Grant shut the door before Sawny caught sight of Jessa, or she revealed herself by speaking.He wasn’t ready to share her with everyone in the keep just yet, and especially not in her current state.That time would come soon enough.He turned back and motioned to one of the two wingback chairs angled in front of the hearth.“Would ye nay be more comfortable in the chair?”
With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she hugged her knees tighter and barely rocked in place.She remained silent, looking distressed and fraught with worry.
“Lass?Miss Jessa?”
“If you don’t know what a phone is, how do you communicate with anyone who doesn’t live here at the keep?”she blurted out.
The phone thing seemed to mean so much to her.It must carry messages somehow.He joined her at the hearth but didn’t sit.“I send a runner to places within a few hours’ ride, and if the distance is greater, I send letters by coach or rider.”
She stared up at him from her spot on the floor, then bent her head and rubbed her forehead between her eyebrows.Her pain must be worsening.“What about mail?The postal system?”Her voice was strained, vibrating with fear.The woman was on the verge of panic.“I think they call it the Royal Mail here.”
“My runners and messengers are faster and more reliable than the king’s, but I’ve been known to use the service when pushed to do so by the destination.”He crouched in front of her and risked touching her arm.“Sit in the chair, lass, and I’ll fetch ye more cushions.’Tis much softer than the floor.Ye canna be comfortable here.”
Tears welled, deepening the already vibrant green of her eyes.The fullness of her bottom lip quivered the slightest bit.Lore a’mighty, dinna let her cry, he silently prayed to any power that might be listening.He couldn’t bear the vulnerability of a weeping lass.He scooped her up from the floor and gently deposited her into the chair, then tucked the plaid around her.“It will be all right, Jessa.Dinna fash yerself.Everything will be all right.”
