of her only sister. Take it.’ Tis the most valuable.’
‘I will repay you, Jen. That I promise.’ He slipped the brooch back into the bag and secured the packet in the pocket of his jacket. ‘I must be going.’
He rose and swayed slightly before catching himself with one hand on the edge of the table. Jenna rushed to him and put an arm around his waist.
‘Are you sure you can travel?’
‘I moost. If I miss tonight, the next chance is a month away. Not many ships, even smugglers, will carry convicted Jacobites. And no one will hide one.’ His mouth twisted bitterly.
Worried, Jenna watched him go to the outside entrance. She could not let him go alone. ‘I will go with you.’
He turned, irritation etching lines along his mouth. ‘That you will not do.’
‘How will you stop me? Besides, you will be safer if I’m with you. You cannot tell me the redcoats are not hunting for you, Gavin Steuart.’ Twould be a lie. And if your wound continues to bleed, I will be able to treat it.’
She did not say what she thought—that if his wound continued to bleed he would not have the strength to escape without help. Or that he might not even live. If he stayed in England, his chance of living to an old age was even less than that.
‘True,’ he muttered in the tone of voice he always used when he saw himself losing an argument with her.
‘They won’t be looking for a couple.’
‘Aye,’ he said, resignation moving over his face.
‘I can ride as well as you and will not slow you down.’ That, too, was true. Many times as children she had outraced him. And she jumped better. ‘I also put on riding boots when I fetched the jewels.’
He put up one last fight. ‘I am going to the Whore’s Eye, a raunchy tavern near the coast.’
She grimaced. ‘I have heard of the place. Nothing good, either.’
‘’Tis not the place for a woman, let alone a lady.’
‘I can take care of myself, Gavin.’
He sighed, the lines of pain around his eyes deepening. ‘I will let you accompany me part of the way. No matter how much help you will be, I canna let you go all the way.’
Seeing the determination in his eyes and knowing he could only be pushed so far before he became intractable, she concurred. When they reached the point where Gavin ordered her to turn around, she would refuse. He was not the only stubborn person in this room.
‘A deal,’ she said.
Before he could think of another argument or condition, she grabbed her woollen cape and two blankets. The night was bitterly cold and storm clouds rode the sky like hounds after a fox. Better to be prepared.
He tried one last tack. ‘But you stand out like a rowan berry in green leaves. That hair sparks even in this dim room.’
Her first reaction was to bristle at his reference to her hair. ’Twas the second bane of her existence, after the freckles. But she knew he was only trying to keep her from accompanying him. She might make light of the situation, but she was following him into mortal danger. The English would do whatever it took to recapture an escaped Jacobite. Even now, months after Culloden, they rode the Scottish hills, killing and imprisoning any man who might even remotely have fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie. They would think nothing of killing Gavin—and her with him—if they found them.
She swallowed the whimper of fear that threatened to escape her throat. If Gavin saw her weakness, he would use it to start another argument and they did not have time.
‘I will keep the hood over my head, Gavin. Now, we’d best be going.’ She moved to the door and pushed him out into the damp, blustery night.
He shivered. ‘’Twill snow before we reach our destination.’
‘’Tis why I have brought two blankets.’ A soft whicker caught her ear. ‘Why did you not put your horse in the stable?’
‘Do not be daft. The last thing I need is for some stable boy to know I’ve been here and then to tell a redcoat.’
A chill chased down her spine. ‘I am not used to subterfuge. Sorry.’
‘Just see that you get your own mount without them knowing why.’
She had not thought of that. ‘Wait a minute.’ She rushed back to her stillroom and picked up the bag she took when calling on a sick person, adding what was left of the whisky to the pack. Returning to Gavin, she said, ‘I will say I am going to deliver Mistress James’s baby. We had word earlier she was due soon.’
She was well down the lane and through the gate that guarded the entry to de Warre Castle before she met up with Gavin. He emerged from the shelter of brush and tree. She would swear he wavered in the saddle. She held her tongue.
The speed of their passing flipped the hood off her head. Icy pellets of water hit her face like miniature musket balls. Jenna hunched her shoulders up. Melting hail blotched her eyeglasses, blurring her vision. She took the spectacles off and secured them in her bag of medicinals.
She pulled even with Gavin and asked, ‘Why leave from here?’ Twould be easier and quicker to cross to France from the eastern coast.’
‘And better watched, I’d warrant.’ Gavin spurred his mount on. ‘’Tis colder than a witch’s—’ He caught himself. ‘My pardon, Jen.’
‘No pardon needed. I’ve heard worse.’
She kept her attention on their path and her companion. The moon peeked fitfully out from the canopy of clouds, silvering the bare tree limbs. She loved these cold, stark nights. They were harshly beautiful. But tonight, she wished it were warmer.
A glance showed Gavin slumped over, his hands clutching the pommel. He rode with an awkwardness that was not normal. She had hoped her assessment of his wound was too severe. She was afraid she had been right. Anxiety tightened her chest as a premonition of trouble twisted her stomach, that part of her that was most susceptible to nerves.
Off to one side, as though coming through one of the bordering fields, she heard the sound of horse’s hooves in sucking mud. The glow of a storm lantern pierced the night’s darkness, flickering through the surrounding trees like fairy light.
Gavin caught the bridle of her horse and pulled them to a stop. ‘Hush,’ he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the sough of the rising wind.
A troop of six men rode not thirty feet from them, their mounts following the trail she and Gavin skirted. Crimson flashed in the lantern’s illumination.
Redcoats.
English.
Jenna’s hands turned clammy. She could not have spoken if her life depended on it.
The sounds of hooves plopping in mud and men muttering among themselves reached her as they passed. The storm lantern cast a baleful yellow glare on the dirt track and disappeared
