I would rather have ye go far, far, far away from here, Jack Pike. Far away. Remove yer torso and yer laugh and yer cock and . . . yer man-self from my sight and my mind.
“If that’s what ye feel ye must do.”
“I’m my own man. I don’t feel I must do anything.”
“I thought ye were the duke’s man.”
“Well, the duke is not the duke yet. And he’s not here. Jack Pike is operating under his own agency and he is escorting the Countess of Kinmarloch home. Now, where’s your horse?”
Helen pointed with her chin down the street. “By the blacksmith’s.”
“Good. Let me go get my horse and we’ll go.”
“Ye should go back in and pay yer bill.”
He waved his hand. “They know I’m good for it.”
“Nae. Ye will go pay yer bill now. So the publican has money to buy meat to make more pies. To cut peat to keep the place warm. To pay those lasses who brought yer ale to ye.”
He frowned and tilted his head. “Do you promise not to take off at a run and get away from me?”
“But yer so good at chasing women, Jack Pike.”
“No, Helen Boyd.” He grinned. “I’m good at catching them.”
Their eyes were locked. He did not blink. It was like looking at the sun for Helen. She couldn’t bear it. She looked away first.
“Aye. Go pay yer bill, go get yer horse. I willnae run away.”
When Jack learnedof the lost shoe, he insisted his horse pull the cart with him and Helen in it, her own horse tethered behind. Helen protested. His horse was a fancy mount from the stables of Dunmore.
“Yes, and he was barely being ridden before I got here. Let’s make the horse do an honest day’s work for once. And your horse looks like it could use the rest.”
Yes, it was sad to see her scrawny, big-headed horse next to Jack’s fine gelding. Likely as sad as it would be for a passing shepherd to see her sitting next to Jack Pike on the wooden seat in the front of the cart.
The cart made its way back along the rutted road to Kinmarloch, Jack commenting on the scenery, Helen naming the mountains surrounding them. It was good to sit next to him, not seeing him, only hearing his voice. It made her think that under other circumstances—ones where he was not a gorgeous rogue—they might have been friends. His ease made her heart easy, and she forgot her troubles for long minutes.
But, in time, the troubles came back to her. As they always did.
“Oh, I have yer money for ye, Jack Pike.”
He waved his hand. “Pay me later.”
“Nae. Ye made me take it. Now ye take it back. I have discharged my debt and sent the sixteen shillings off to Lord Reeves.”
“You mean Lord Feces, right?” He grinned and took the pound coin and shoved it carelessly in his pocket. “That’s the best news I’ve heard today.”
“Have ye heard any other news today?” Maybe Jack had learned John MacNaughton was the duke now for certain and he was coming to Dunmore. Soon. Please.
“No. But even if I had, your news would still be the best. Here, I have an idea. When we get back, let me send the carriage for you and Mags to come and have dinner at the castle tonight. I heard tell Mrs. Mac is making lamb stew.”
She laughed. “Nae, Jack. Whatever ’tis, it willnae be lamb stew. ’Tis too early for that. It will be mutton.”
“Mutton?”
She looked at him. He was making a face. “Mutton is good, strong meat. If ye stay up here awhile longer, ye’ll get a taste for it.”
“Maybe.” He started to say something else but then closed his mouth and fell silent.
