Suspicion snaked through Slade at her question. His previous assumptions of what had brought her here tonight had been all wrong.
“You have my solemn word,” he said unreservedly.
She tilted her head back and gulped the remaining contents of the glass, gave a slight cough, then eyed him.
“I have it on good authority that the English will now resort to murder, plunder and destruction to enforce the Abolition of Heritable Jurisdictions in the Highlands, in addition to continuing with raids to capture Jacobites. I must warn my friends, my family and my clan.”
Slade stared at her in disbelief as something detonated inside his chest. The questions were too many to voice. He turned away from her and started to pace parallel to the long table, the dangerous energy pulsating through his veins too rampant for standing still. This would strip the last vestiges of power from the Scots in favor of the English. What would happen to his father and brother, and what of Garraidh?
He paused his stride and eyed her. “I am almost afraid to ask, but is this friend of yours, for whom you are in service at Bolingbroke’s manor, working for the Jacobites?”
Even as he asked the question, realization struck him like the setting-off of a cannon ball in his head.
She was caught up with the Movement.Sweet Saints!
CHAPTER 18
“Iam not at liberty to answer,” she said, her tone low and her words sounding practiced.
Horseshit. But she’d inadvertently given him an answer after all.
“Very well. We will leave it for now.” His eyes trailed her from head to toe, then he continued. “I’m afraid all I have to offer you for a change of clothing is my own.”
Her expression eased into a smile. “Thank you. Yes. I’d welcome it until I can purchase some of my own.”
Slade showed Fifi around the spacious lodge. He pointed out its weapons room, dining area, gaming room, kitchen, stocked larder, and four bedchambers. He then guided her to a guest chamber at the back of the lodge, for it provided her with the greatest degree of privacy. Afterwards, he walked to his chamber to shuffle through his belongings for the cleanest breeches and shirt he could find.
Twenty minutes later he strolled back to her chamber and pushed the door open, holding the fresh clothes in his hands.
“These should be adequate for?—”
Slade halted in his tracks as an audible gasp escaped Fifi’s lips from further inside the chamber.
The breath left him, and his senses shattered. She had lit a candle on a sideboard and stripped herself of the cloak, leaving her in a long thin night rail. He shouldn’t find the outline of her curves beneath the diaphanous fabric so seductive, but he did. Her lips parted in shock, sending a rush of heat and blood straight to his groin. His eyelids slammed shut and he swung around, giving her his back, a foul imprecation escaping his mouth. It was unfortunate the imprint of her delicious looking areolas was now burned on his brain. He would never be able to unsee her luscious figure. And he would never be able to stop what he was starting to feel for his friend.
Hasty scrambling sounded behind him.
“I hadn’t expected—” she started, in a breathless voice.
“Forgive me. I’m terribly sorry—” he cut in.
A booming crash and a simultaneous “Ouch!” sounded. Slade swung around despite the threat of a second faux pas. She was on the floor looking as undone as he felt. Her booted feet seemed to have caught on the edge of the rug. He dropped the clothes he was holding and in two long strides he was upon her. Taking her upper arms, he gently but firmly lifted her.
“Are you hurt?” Slade asked.
The lack of finesse he employed to pull her up made him curse himself inwardly. But all words died in his head when his actions landed Fifi’s soft curves flush against his hard edges. Her bandaged palm splayed awkwardly on his chest to steady herself. The feel of her body was too bloody sublime. The edgy feminine scent of her scrambled his senses, and the heat from her nearness reshaped his reality. She tipped her head back, eyes widened, and pupils dilated. Her soft breath escaped her lips, brushing his cheeks as if she would speak, but no words sounded.
There was shock and heat in her eyes, but he dared not contemplate the latter. If he contemplated it too much, he wouldforget that having Fifi in his arms with dark erotic thoughts flying through his head would draw Egan’s protectiveness and wrath. He still had to use all his self-control to rein in the screaming urge in his hips to thrust forward or the overpowering desire to lower his lips to hers.
Slade blinked when something sharp nipped into the left side of his chest. All sultry images drained from his head. He blinked and glanced down. The candle’s light reflected off an elegant Damascus dagger she held right over his heart. Something cold rippled down Slade’s body.
“Let go of me,” she said, her voice calm.
The kind of calm right before thunder ripped the heavens apart in a deadly storm. His eyes flew to hers. And it hit him. If he made a single wrong move she wouldn’t hesitate to plunge the dagger straight through his heart.
It dawned on him what he was looking at in her face.
Cold terror.
