He muttered something unintelligible under his breath. She realized he was still angry with himself for giving in to his desire, but she had enjoyed their moment and was not going to be shamed into denying it. "We are running for our lives. If Somersby and his men catch up to us … the point is, we may not survive this chase. I'm not going to die wishing I had told you how I feel about you. I suppose my feelings for you are obvious now."
Indeed, how much more obvious could she be? She would have allowed her gown to slip to the floor and not been ashamed to stand naked before him. He was the one who held it up to maintain her propriety even while he kissed her with scorching passion. "Don't make me feel lesser for it. Please, John."
His back was still turned to her, so she could not tell what he was thinking.
But it felt as though he was scowling fiercely.
"I'll help you climb back on deck when you're ready. Just call out to me." He took the stairs as though still being chased by Somersby and his men. Or chased by demons that he was desperate to outrun.
Perhaps he was merely running from her.
Perhaps he would always run.
She wasn't going to worry about that now, for his kiss had revealed the truth.
She mattered to him.
JOHN CLIMBED ON deck and stood beside Valor, stroking the stallion's neck as he gazed across the loch waters. The mist had lifted and only remnants of its cloudy haze remained in spots along the shore. He allowed the gusting wind to blow over him and cool him down. Him. Not the stallion. He was the one whose blood was still on fire.
Nicola had a way of smashing through his barriers. For years, he'd been able to hide the effect she'd had on him because they were never left alone. But being on the run and forced into close quarters with the girl was a disastrous combination.
This was only the beginning. They had several days of travel before reaching Edinburgh, assuming Somersby and his men did not interfere with their plans and force them to take another route. But there was no sign of him or his hired ruffians yet. He'd been watching the distant shore for riders.
Nor was there sign of a boat following them.
"John," Nicola called to him, popping her head out of the hold. She struggled to clamber out while holding onto the skirt of her gown and at the same time trying to keep the wind from whipping several loose strands across her face into her eyes.
He lifted her out with ease, holding onto her waist to steady her as the boat rolled over the waves. She held onto his arms and smiled uncertainly up at him. "Thank you."
She looked pretty with her hair bound in a loose braid down her back and her body draped in the simple woolen gown that she filled out to perfection. "How do your boots fit?"
"They're a little stiff, but I'll manage." After a moment, Nicola blushed and moved to the railing to look out over the water.
John held back, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her. Captain Grant approached him. "Pretty wife, m'lord."
John nodded.
"Newlyweds?"
John nodded again. "A month."
He wasn't eager to chat with the captain, but he'd referred to Nicola as his wife when first engaging the captain and his boat, and he was not about to change his story. He had hoped the old Scot would mind his own business, but perhaps he was having second thoughts about helping him and Nicola. After all, the man had his sons with him and did not wish them to think he was aiding in the ruin of an innocent young lady.
Nicola was quality and it showed.
John did not blame the man if he was having second thoughts about carrying them to Inverness. They were traveling without baggage or servants. They had no carriage. Just one horse they shared. It was obvious they were on the run; the only question in the captain's mind had to be the reason for their running away. John had no desire to embellish their lie, but he had less desire to be tossed off the boat.
He was about to fabricate a few more details when Nicola's cry of alarm put an end to their discussion. "John, look! On the shore."
"Damn." Somersby and his men hadn't been fooled for long. They were on the road to Inverness, obviously riding hard to intercept them. But at the same moment Nicola spotted them, they'd spotted Valor penned on deck. John quickly drew Nicola away from the railing and then turned to the captain. "Those men are dangerous. Sail this boat to the opposite shore. Now."
"But m'lord."
"Captain Grant, those men will kill us all. You and your sons will not be spared. My wife will not be spared." Lord, he'd referred to Nicola as his wife and it felt so natural and easy. "I know you suspect that it is her family riding to stop our elopement, but I assure you, it is nothing of the sort. Let us off now. We'll never make it to Inverness alive."
As though to prove his point, the riders on the shore began to fire their weapons at the boat. Fortunately, their shots fell short, but the captain needed no further convincing. "Hamish, Malcolm! Keep down, lads." He grabbed the rudder and steered the boat toward the southern bank of the loch.
John sighed in relief, knowing they would gain another few hours' lead on their pursuers, who hadn't the means to cross this body of water but had to ride around it. They'd need all the advantage they could gain, for their route on this side of the loch would not be an easy one. Inverness was out of the question now. They had no choice but to ride southward through the mountains. Once over the mountains, the trails would become open roads, but it would be days before they reached those flat, well-traveled paths.
Perhaps days before they ate hot food, for he would not dare light a campfire. The smoke from any fire would be seen from a distance and its scent would travel for miles.
He glanced at Nicola.
The girl was pale and frightened, but her resolve was strong. She would do her best not to slow him down, but Valor would be weighed down by her extra weight. At least she was slight and slender. Nor could John ride at breakneck speed while holding her in front of him in the saddle.
Captain Grant drew his vessel up beside an old dock that appeared ready to fall into the water. Most of the boards were splintered and several had fallen off completely. John hoped the dock would hold under Valor's weight, but to be safe, he jumped off the boat and tested the remaining boards. "Come, Nicola. It will hold you."
He wanted her safely off first, for her clothes and boots needed to remain dry. He and Valor were not likely to be so fortunate. He helped her off and then carefully led Valor, moving slowly and testing every step. The dock creaked and swayed, but held. "Thank you, Captain Grant," Nicola called out as John was about to lift her onto the saddle.
"Good luck to ye and yer husband, m'lady. Godspeed."
John wasted no time in riding into the mountains and out of sight of the loch. He'd have to rest Valor from time to time, but there were many streams in the mountains. Water would be plentiful and so would the sweet, meadow grasses. Valor could graze to his heart's content. Sustaining himself and Nicola was the problem. They had no choice but to survive on the meager bread and cheese he'd brought along. However, they might pass a croft or two, or a small village, along the way. He'd restock their provisions whenever the opportunity presented itself.
The day had turned sunny and the sky was a deep azure as they made their way through the mountain foothills. The air was warming and now held little chill. He hoped they'd make significant progress, for the good weather was not likely to hold for long and he wished to put as much distance between them and Somersby as he could.
Despite the danger they faced, John's sense of contentment returned. Although he and Nicola spoke little, he felt comfortable with her. Perhaps it was because he'd known her ever since she was a little girl. But it was more than that, for he'd known many women over the years. With Nicola, he felt as though he was with someone who understood him as no one else did or ever could.
He was thankful that she did not appear to resent him for the kiss that should never have been. Yet, she had every reason to be angry with him over his behavior.
He was still angry with himself, certainly angrier than she'd ever been.
Perhaps that was what Nicola's brother Julian had meant after he'd fallen in love with Rose Farthingale, that John would know when the right woman came along for him. That John's heart would recognize her and there was nothing he could do about it.
He'd never felt like this with anyone but Nicola.
He'd known her for years and always saw her among her family, playing with her younger siblings and yet also at ease with the elders. They were six siblings in all, Nicola the eldest among the girls. Their household was chaotic and joyful, and they'd welcomed him into their home.
Nicola had always treated him as though he belonged, even when he was taciturn and surly, which he was often. But she never took offense.