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Camden looked at her incredulously. “How do ye ken that?”
“I saw Montieth give it to him. He took it from a secret compartment hidden behind books in his study.” She quickly relayed what had happened.
“Och, now that is verra interestin’ indeed.” An approving smile tilted his mouth. “Well done. Ye’ve uncovered the contact we’ve been seekin’ for the better part of a year, Bethea.”
“I have?” A surge of pride engulfed her.
“Indeed. Ye’ve helped save many lives.” He gathered her much smaller hand in his.
She wasn’t altogether certain that excitement that she’d helped catch a spy was causing the heat infusing her or the quivering in her belly.
“But I need ye to swear no’ to tell anyone else of this until I tell ye ’tis safe to do so.”
Unease reared its head. “Why?”
He angled his dark head toward the outdoors again. His hair hung to his shoulders and swung slightly with the motion. “I have three hired men with me. Untrustworthy, unsavory curs who’d sell that information, no’ carin’ the lives it would cost or the havoc it would wreak on Scotland.”
She gulped and slid an apprehensive glance in the direction he’d looked. “Why are they with ye if they are so disloyal and reprehensible?”
He turned her hand over, examing her palm.
Where were her gloves?
Oh, that’s right, she’d removed them when caring for Branwen.
“They are the best at what they do,” he replied, matter of factly. “That’s all ye need to ken.”
She studied his face for a long moment.
Nae, I didna ken Camden Kennedy at all.
Camden’s jaw flexed, and he gently squeezed her fingers. “How is yer head?”
“Sore, and there’s a mighty lump.” Bethea gingerly probed her scalp. It wasn’t bleeding, so she supposed she ought to be grateful for that small blessing.
He made a harsh sound in his throat. “Do ye feel waffy or dizzy?”
“Only sick at my stomach, but that might be from the coach. I get sick on long journeys. ’Tis the rockin’ motion. ’Tis the same on boats, too.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I fear I’m no’ exactly heroine material.”
“Och, that depends on who the hero is, disna it?” His voice held a tone she couldn’t quite identify, but which sent a delicious thrill through her.
And, at present, she wasn’t in any mind to examine it further. “What time is it? My family will be beside themselves, and that fat pissant is to blame.”
“It’s nearly half-past two.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze. Odd, she had no desire to remove it from his warm clasp. “We’ll send word to Keane as soon as possible. I promise ye.”
“I wonder how that asslin’ Montieth explained my disappearance?”
Camden didn’t look shocked at her use of profanity. “I’d guess he vowed ignorance and put on a show of concern worthy of a Shakespearian actor.”
Sighing, she rested against the surprisingly comfortable squabs. “I’m beginnin’ to wish I’d never left the Highlands.”
He seemed distracted and only tipped his mouth on one side at her declaration.
“Bethea?”
She turned her head, exhaustion weighing her eyelids. “Aye?”
We’ll arrive at our destination soon.” Something shadowed the contours of Camden’s face, but she couldn’t identify what it was. If she had to put a word to it, the expression had been something between regret and resignation.
“Bethea?” he said her name again.
She went still, searching his face. “There’s somethin’ else, isna there?”
Almost bashfully, he scratched his eyebrow and gave a slow nod. “I had to claim that ye… To keep the men from…” Jaw flexing, he released a gust of breath. “That is, to assure yer safety and that nae one dare impose their—ah—attentions on ye, I had to claim ye were my betrothed.”
Bethea, again, glanced out the window, unable to see the riders accompanying them. Camden wouldn’t have made such an assertion if it hadn’t been necessary.
“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” she bantered. “Ye could’ve said I was yer wife, and in Scotland, that might be enough to be considered an irregular marriage.”
