Page 43 of Highland Ruse

He tried not to let the rocking coach lull him toward the sleep that had eluded him the previous night. But it had not been the horrors at Ardvreck which had kept him awake—it had been the force of his desire.

He had not slept. Instead he had sketched.

Elizabeth stared at him again. He could feel the touch of her gaze as surely as he’d felt the stroke of her tongue on his the prior evening. He balled his hands into fists to hide the blackened evidence of charcoal smudged across his fingertips. The remnants had been impossible to wash off.

The same was true for his memories. For everything in his life had been recorded through his drawings, a direct connection from his heart to his hand, as his mother had always said. It had been she who had first encouraged the drawings. For all the years he’d been so silent as a lad, for all the thoughts she knew to be swirling within regardless. She had first placed the charcoal in his fingers and watched his world bloom on the pages before them.

Her death had been difficult for him. He’d been only ten, somewhere between lad and man. The child she bore had died along with her. But the gift she’d seen in him, that she’d encouraged, had thrived within him and kept her alive in his heart.

Leasa sat beside Elizabeth with her sewing hanging limp in her hand and her head laying awkwardly against the wooden wall in slumber.

She hadn’t noted the tension between him and Elizabeth, for surely she would have commented on it.

Kaid lifted his gaze and met Elizabeth’s. She did not flinch away.

No, she stared back at him, and in her eyes he saw the same desire he felt. It lingered for only a moment before she flicked her gaze from his, like a fire ember singeing bare skin before snuffing out.

He should say something. Apologize. Again. “I shouldna have—”

She put up a hand to stop him from speaking. He wanted to take the slender hand and press his lips to the warmth of her palm.

But she was right.

This did not need to be spoken of, especially not where Leasa might hear.

Thick forest crowded the trail on which they rode and pulled Kaid’s thoughts from Elizabeth.

They ought to be past the heavier forest by now. He’d anticipated more of the hilly landscape dotted with scruffy trees and patches of forest and rock. But then they’d lost considerable time while they recovered from being ill.

“How long was I ill?” Kaid asked.

The tension of Elizabeth’s shoulders seemed to ease. “I believe it was three days.”

“Three?” he repeated with incredulity.

She nodded.

His heart thumped hard against his ribs. “And how long were the rest of ye ill?”

She shook her head with a regretful frown. “I’m not entirely sure. Most likely an entire day.”

They’d lost four days to being ill. At least.

That was a lot of time lost, a lot of distance they could have covered.

If Elizabeth delayed for too long, MacKenzie might begin to worry after her and send a party. He and Donnan were strong fighters, but not enough to fend off an army.

“We’re going to need to get rid of the coach.” He spoke as the idea came to him.

Elizabeth’s lips parted in surprise. “How would we travel?”

“We’ll use the horses,” he said. “We can cover more ground that way.”

“There are only two—you can’t expect us to ride with you both,” she protested. “All my clothes, my jewels…”

“They dinna matter.”

“Not to you, but they matter to me.” She made the statement without any emotion, but the words struck him regardless.