Her mouth fell open. “I do not—!”
“And,” he added cutting her off, “ye hum when you’re concentratin’.”
Fiona’s entire body went hot. “I do NOT hum—”
“Aye, ye do.” He glanced up at her, eyes glinting with wicked amusement. “Bonnie wee tune, right enough.”
“And you didn’t SAY anything?”
He shrugged. “Wanted to see how long ye’d last.”
Her jaw clenched. “And how long did I last?”
“Longer than I’d’ve wagered,” he admitted.
Mortification burned up her spine. “Why didn’t you stop me sooner?!”
“Because,” he said, “I dinnae want your help.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You need it.”
He finally looked up, really looked, and the air between them thickened.
“You’ve no idea what I’m doin’,” he said quietly.
“Then tell me.”
“I won’t.”
“Why not?”
His jaw flexed, haunted.
Fiona recognized that look.
She’d seen it in mirrors since Culloden.
“Because if you ken the truth,” he murmured, “you’ll end on a gallows rope beside me.”
Her chest pinched. “My brothers died for this cause. My father bleeds for it still. If the Prince trusted you, then whatever you’re carrying matters to every Cameron living.”
He didn’t answer. His knuckles whitened around the spit handle.
“You’re young,” he muttered finally.
“And you,” she snapped, “are bleeding through your bandage.”
That startled him. His gaze flickered to his side.
“Still no,” he said.
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Why?”
“Because I’m hunted every day,” he growled. “And another body beside mine only makes it easier for them to track me.”
Fiona stepped closer, firelight catching her fierce eyes. “Let me choose the risk.”
He looked at her long—long enough she wondered if he was counting her heartbeats.
