Her eyes widened. “I’ve made no decisions, why would you think that?”
“My sister mentioned Colin’s suit in her letter.”
He said it matter-of-factly, but there was something in his voice that made her stop. She studied his face, not sure what she was looking for. His mouth tightened and the muscle below his jaw jumped. News of her proposed marriage to Colin bothered him. Her heart pounded. Had the false rumor of her betrothal to his brother finally done what months of tears and prayers could not?
“Is that why you came back, Duncan?” she asked softly.
“As I said, it was time, that is all.”
He lied. Though outwardly nothing gave him away, she could feel it. He was too calm. Too indifferent. Too dismissive.
What did it mean? After all these years did he still have feelings for her?
Her chest throbbed. It didn’t matter. Protecting her family was all that mattered now. They’d had their chance and failed. Girlish fantasies of “what if” had no place in her life.
She recalled her reason for seeking him out—a reason made even more pronounced after seeing him with Ella. “If you are hunting today, I assume that means you are feeling better?”
He didn’t answer right away. He knew what she was getting at. Instead, he bit a piece of bread off with his teeth, chewed slowly, and washed it down with a long swig of ale, trying to harness the bloodlust pounding through him.
Someone had tried to abduct her. She’d been in danger. She could have been hurt, and very likely would have been raped before or after being dragged to the Kirk door. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t quiet the rage storming inside him, waiting to unleash its violent fury. The urge to kill gripped him hard and would not let go.
By the time his gaze returned to hers, however, he was once again in control. “I am much improved.”
“Good, then you’ll be leaving soon?”
Duncan would have found her eagerness amusing if it wasn’t at his expense. He wouldn’t be surprised to find his bag packed by nightfall and Jeannie standing at the gate, ready to lift the steel yett herself to see him out.
He was on the verge of giving her what she wanted. God knows, it’s what he should do. If he was caught, he was a dead man, and every day he stayed here increased the risk. He needed to find proof to clear his name before word of his return leaked out. Clearly, Jeannie had no intention of helping him. There was no cause for him to stay.
But she was in danger. And every primitive male instinct in his body recoiled at leaving her alone and vulnerable.
God’s blood, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he care? She was not his responsibility, nor did she want his protection. He should go…
“Aye,” he said. “I’ll go.” His stomach twisted, his body in revolt. He couldn’t do it. His mouth fell in a grim line, furious with her and with himself. “Once I can be assured that you are well protected.”
Her face fell. “I’m quite well protected. Besides, my safety is none of your concern.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m making it my concern. If you think I’m leaving now, you are very much mistaken. And if you are so well protected, how did I manage to come upon you swimming naked in a loch alone?” His temper gave way.Naked.“What in Hades could you have been thinking, Jeannie?”
She stiffened, her green eyes sparked with defiance. “I managed well enough. Need I remind you of the hole in your stomach?”
“Your pistol was effective against one man, but what if there had been more?”
She set her tiny pointed chin stubbornly. “I had Tavish.”
“Your guardsman was too busy watching the performance in the loch and was lucky to only suffer a clop on the head for his transgression.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll not explain myself to you. You sound just like my mother-in-law.”
“Then he must be a man of exceptional good sense.”
The haughty voice tinged with a faint French accent could only belong to one person. Duncan tensed.Damn.He’d been so wrapped up in Jeannie, he’d failed to notice the Marchioness of Huntly’s approach. The one person he’d been doing his best to avoid.
Jeannie had her back to her mother-in-law, but Duncan noticed her stiffen at the sound of her voice. His gaze flickered back and forth between the two women. Apparently, Jeannie’s devotion to her husband did not extend to his mother.
The older woman’s hawk-like gaze settled on her daughter-in-law. It wasn’t with dislike, precisely, more like forbearance. As if Jeannie was a personal challenge—another cross to bear, to use a cliché for the notoriously penitent Catholic.
“From what I heard,” the Marchioness continued, “I assume this man is trying to impart upon you the seriousness of your recent lapse in judgment.” She made it sound as if this was a recurring situation. “You should listen to him.” Thinking she’d found an ally—though Duncan hadn’t decided yet—the Marchioness turned to him, bestowing what looked to be a rare smile of approval on him. “I hope you will impart to my daughter-in-law the seriousness of her situation, alone without a husband to protect her.”
