Page 101 of A Scot on the Rocks

“You needed time.”

“Aye.” He stepped close enough to see the damp on her lashes. “And ye gave it to us. But when snooty Lord Crawley started shouting, I thought⁠—”

He stopped. There was no use describing the sight of her alone on the quay while his boat was moving away. He’d remember it whether he spoke of it or not.

“I was frightened too,” she said, more quietly. “Especially when Finlay went down.”

Jamie reached for her hand, turning it to find a scrape across the knuckles. “What happened here?”

“I caught it on the wall.” She looked up at him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t break my hand slapping the snooty drunk lord.”

He gave a helpless laugh. “Ye slapped a lord before officers of the Crown.”

“He accused me of cheating.”

Jamie took her hand between both of his, careful of the scrape. She’d told him about the rougher customers at her grandmother’s pub, and he’d believed her, but tonight he’d seen how quickly she could read the situation and make it turn where she wanted. That was a useful gift in a smuggler’s life. It also gave him an uncomfortable question he had no wish to ask yet. How much of what she’d told him about herself had come as easily?

“Did they follow ye?” he asked.

“No. I waited until the officers were occupied arguing with each other. Then I came back here.”

“Good.” He released her hand reluctantly. “We can be on the road before dawn. There’s no sense staying where they’re searching for us.”

“What about my gowns?”

He looked at her, then began to laugh again. She’d just escaped a harbor full of angry revenue men and a lord with wounded pride, yet she was worrying about dresses and bobs and bits.

“I paid for them,” she said. “And Mistress Kerr promised they’d be ready.”

“I’ll send word for them to be brought to the glen when they’re finished.”

She nodded and leaned against the stable wall as he untied the pony, and for a few moments they worked together without speaking. When she held the lantern, he could see a small rip in the edge of her sleeve and a dark bruise forming beneath one cheekbone. He wanted to ask her to remain somewhere safe until the danger passed, but he knew better than to ask for a promise she could neither make nor keep.

“There’s something else,” she said.

He looked over.

“Robertson was asking about Dunarraidh before he came down to the quay. I heard him tell another officer they’d been given the name of the ruined castle on the hill.”

Jamie tightened the final strap on the saddle. It was no longer merely one name in a busy harbor. Robertson had seen Finlay injured, watched Jamie escape him in front of a crowd, and now knew where to direct his temper.

“Then we’d best make sure our ghost is ready for visitors,” he said. The words came easily enough, though the thought of Robertson arriving with armed men did not.

Chapter 21

Jamie

By the time they reached Dunarraidh, the sky above the eastern hills had begun to pale. The castle looked much as it always did in that uncertain light with one tower leaning against the clouds, a broken wall framing the courtyard, and enough moss between the stones to keep a dozen gardeners occupied for life. Jamie had never been so glad to see it.

Olivia dismounted stiffly and stood beside the pony while he worked the knot loose from the saddlebag. She’d slept for perhaps an hour at the inn, and that had been sitting upright in a chair with her shawl pulled around her. Now she looked ready to argue with anyone who suggested she needed rest, which saved Jamie the trouble of making the suggestion.

“I’ll get the fire going,” he said.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

He smiled and carried the bags inside, but every time he turned away from her he saw the moment the skiff had pulled from the quay and left her among the officers. He’d been responsible for men in danger before, knew how to make himself choose quickly and live with the choice afterward. But the sight of Olivia stranded at the harbor had shaken that confidence more than he cared to admit.

There was no chance of rest once Ewan returned near midday. He brought word that Finlay would mend, though the wound to his leg would keep him off the roads for some time. The fisherman and his family were sheltering him while the cut healed, and the healer had warned them to watch for fever. Ewan had also seen mounted officers on the coastal road, questioning anyone who’d been near the harbor the previous evening.