"I can see that you're exhausted," John said. "Rest your head on my shoulder. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I have no food to give you or blanket to keep you warm. But I can offer you my shoulder as a pillow. It may not be the most comfortable-"
"It's perfect." She turned slightly to snuggle against him. She was now facing him and her breasts were lightly pressing against his chest.
Had he not been holding her close for hours, he would have shot out of his saddle at the heavenly touch.
Had Nicola noticed the quickening beat of his heart?
He was responding and it wasn't even direct contact. His jacket was still wrapped around her, providing an added layer between them. But it did not seem to matter. He felt her against him.
He felt her softness.
He felt her every lush curve.
Mostly, he felt her chipping away at the thick stone wall surrounding his heart.
He held her tightly against him as she began to drift off to sleep, wanting to protect her from the worst of the bitter cold. It was a bone-seeping chill. She had to be half frozen in her thin, silk gown.
She'd never once complained.
His lips twitched in the hint of a smile when he heard her light snores a short while later and knew she'd given in to her exhaustion. He was glad she'd managed to fall asleep. They rode on without incident and John breathed a sigh of relief when the town of Fort Augustus came into view shortly before sunrise. "Nicola?"
Her eyes were closed and her breaths were soft and steady.
He bent his head slightly and kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad you're alive, brat."
She gave a sleepy purr. "Did you just kiss me?"
"No, brat."
She purred again, a soft, kittenish sound that stirred him in places that should not be stirred while she was pressed so tightly against him. "It felt like a kiss."
"It wasn't. You'll know when I kiss you."
"I will?" She smiled against his chest. "John, promise to do it soon."
"Go back to sleep, Nicola."
Bollocks, what had he gotten himself into?
CHAPTER 5
JOHN CAST HIS gaze skyward and gave muttered thanks when he found the blacksmith shop open. They'd reached Fort Augustus shortly before dawn and he wasn't certain how early the townspeople stirred. Early, he realized, hearing the sound of wagons and wooden carts rattling over the cobblestone road. This was a seafaring town. Several fishermen were up and about, setting off to catch their trout and salmon from the local streams. Boatmen were already sailing out to sea in search of bigger catch that would keep them out for days or weeks until the hulls of their vessels were weighed down by fish to sell.
All that mattered to John was that he did not have to waste time pounding on doors to obtain the goods he needed. Several shopkeepers were already in their shops, preparing to open for the day. Innkeepers had lit their fires and were serving their patrons a morning meal. The scent of eggs and sausages and freshly made bread tickled his nostrils and made his mouth water.
He left Nicola at the blacksmith shop while he hurried down to the dock to secure a boat for them. The air was warming, but the loch remained cold. The clash of hot sun striking cold waters created an eerie mist that rose above the white-capped waves and crept over the vessels moored in the harbor like smoky wraiths waiting to steal unguarded souls.
John strode along the wooden pier, taking in all the sights and sounds and pungent smells. His senses were heightened, as always. He was on the alert for Somersby and his men. But all seemed calm. Several women were talking and laughing as they set up their stalls beside the dock to sell their fish. He heard the groan of anchor ropes as they eased and strained against the ships that floated on the gently lapping waves.
His own footsteps sounded loud to his ears, but few people seemed to notice him as he made his way along the dock in search of a boat to carry them to Inverness. It did not take him long to find a willing captain, a burly, leathery-skinned Scot by the name of Alexander Grant. He gave the man a few coins as a deposit. "I'll be back within the hour."
"Take yer time, my lord. I ain't in no rush." He closed his beefy fist around the coins and grinned.
John returned to the blacksmith shop to fetch Nicola. Their next stop was at one of the local inns for a meal. They'd take whatever was available. He did not care if it was last night's stew or salted pork or week-old, smoked kippers. Anything hot would do. Oatmeal was a popular Scottish fare meant to warm a person's blood and nourish his bones.
Nicola was in need of that, for she was little and slender, and not used to this hardship.
Her stomach was rumbling.
So was his.
They settled in the common room of one of the more pleasant-looking inns. John ordered a hearty meal for both of them and allowed himself a moment to escape from their worries. Valor was shod. Boat hired. Food now brought to them piping hot and smelling heavenly. All that remained was to obtain suitable clothes for Nicola.
He hoped the ladies' shops would open by the time they finished eating.
"John, this food is delicious," Nicola said, taking another spoonful of the hearty leek soup they'd decided to order. The tavern proprietor had delivered it to them with a loaf of bread that was hot, crusty, and steaming, it was that fresh out of his oven.
John eased back in his chair, his attention divided between Nicola and the window that afforded him an unobstructed view of the street. He was always on the lookout for Somersby and his men, his pistols always at the ready. "Don't eat too fast. You'll make yourself ill."
She smiled up at him, her big, green eyes wide as she spared him a mere glance before digging into her soup again. "I'll try not to. But I'm so hungry and everyone is staring at us. What must they think?"
He shrugged. "Does it matter?"
She blushed. "It does to me. We are alone, no chaperone in sight. I'm dressed in a delicate, silk evening gown that would not keep a mouse warm on a summer's day, and I have your jacket wrapped around my shoulders. You must be half frozen."
"I'm fine." Riding for hours with Nicola's body pressed against his had generated enough fire inside him to keep him warm even under the full blast of an icy winter storm.
She sighed. "I suppose I'm foolish to worry about our lack of a chaperone when I was the one who got us into this mess."
"None of this is your fault." He sopped up the last of his soup with the warm bread until there wasn't so much as a drop left on his plate. He had a cup of tea and then washed it down with ale. "Are you ready? Let's find you some warm clothes to wear."
She smiled at him again.
His heart shot into his throat.
He was in trouble.
He hadn't slept all night and Nicola had managed maybe thirty minutes. They were on the run from villains intent on killing them. They hadn't washed, and they'd just devoured their food like vultures feeding on a boar carcass. Yet, he'd never felt more content. Nicola's smile was sweet and beautiful and all he could think about was how splendid she looked, and how badly he wanted to hold her in his arms again.
He shook out of the thought as they rose to leave. While most of the locals appeared merely curious, some were frowning at him and Nicola. He understood why. These Scots were moral, churchgoing people with a pride in their heritage and a dislike for all things English. A few of them were old enough to have been alive during the Jacobite uprisings. For most of them, their parents or grandparents would have lived through those unsettled times and told them stories about it. He suspected that more than a few old-timers were still hoping to resurrect Bonnie Prince Charlie and start a new rebellion.
The smuggling operation he'd come up here to investigate was also linked to a possible rebellion plot. But talk of overthrowing the king was mostly taproom chatter and those who did the chattering were often so deeply in their cups that they could not stand up without their legs giving out from under them.
John wouldn't know how it felt to be drunk, for he'd never allowed himself to lose control. But he did understand the looks the men were casting Nicola, for that sleepy slant to her eyes and the lush curves of her body made her look sultry and at the same time temptingly innocent. "Nicola," he said in a whisper, leaning close so that his lips almost touched her ear, "if anyone asks … "
"Asks what?"
"Just say you are my wife. Lady Bainbridge. Newly wed. Just married in London last month. It's important. They're likely to run us out of town otherwise. Or do worse."
"Such as hurl stones at us?" She nodded. "They must already be wondering what we are doing here at this hour and in these inappropriate clothes."
"They are. I don't want to make matters worse."
She nibbled her lip. "Let's go then. Just a quick stop at one of the local shops to pick up something suitable for me to wear and then we can be on our way. I'll change into the new clothes once I'm in the boat. The sooner we're gone, the better for both of us. I won't rest easy until we are well out of Somersby's grasp. As it is, it will take him less than a minute to find out we passed through here should he decide to search north."