knew the woman could feel it, too. One false step and they would both be in trouble. It was extraordinary to sense with absolute certainty that she was on his side.
“No one will know,” the man said. “Who’s to miss him?”
“Only he can tell us that.” Her voice betrayed no feelings, nothing of the quick, careful calculation Lucas could sense behind the words. “Perhaps it’s time to learn a little more about him.” Her hand touched Lucas’s arm, conveying a warning even as her tone warmed into mockery again. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Lucas,” he said. He was aware that as repartee went it was far from sparkling.
One of the men laughed. “We could spoil his pretty face. That would teach him a lesson.”
“Don’t you dare,” the woman said. Her voice was light. “I need something nice to look at around here.” Her words were dismissive, as though he counted for nothing. Lucas hated being treated so casually, but he could see how clever she was. She made him seem unimportant, no threat.
“What’s your other name?” she said.
Lucas cleared his throat. “Lucas Ross, ma’am,” he said. “At your service.” It was only half a lie.
“Your speech is as pretty as your looks.” Her voice was cool. “What are you doing in Kilmory, Lucas Ross?”
“I’m after a job,” Lucas said. “At the castle. Footman. I’ve come from Edinburgh.”
“Fancy city manners,” one of the smugglers said, and it was not a compliment.
“I want to be a butler one day,” Lucas said.
“Let us hope you live long enough to achieve your ambition.” The lady sounded dry. “Where are you staying?”
“At the inn in the village,” Lucas said. “I booked a room and ordered supper. The landlord will notice if I don’t return.”
“Tom McArdle won’t give us any trouble.” Another of the smugglers spoke this time. “Very likely he’ll dispose of your belongings for us. Where do you think he gets his whisky from, laddie?”
The others gave a low rumble of laughter. They were closing in again now, going for the kill. Lucas knew he had not made a strong enough case to be allowed to live. There would be no loving wife to miss him, no parents and no siblings. He should have invented a few and told an affecting story of how they depended on him. His lips twisted into a bitter parody of a smile.
“We’re wasting time.” One of the men hauled him to his feet.
“Wait.” The woman spoke again, the sharpness of authority back in her voice. “You are too hasty, my friend. Another body around here will bring the gaugers back down on us faster than a sniff of the peat-reek, and the dragoons with them. Have you forgotten that it is only a six-month since the last time?”
Another body...
Lucas felt his blood run cold. She was speaking of Peter.
The silence prickled with tension. Lucas waited, all his muscles wound up tight. He heard the shift and mutter of the men all around him.
“That was nothing to do with us.” The leader sounded defiant. “We know nothing of it.”
“Whether it was your doing or not,” the woman said patiently, “two bodies draw unwanted attention. Do you understand me? Besides, if Mr. Ross here has applied to work at the castle, too many people will know who he is. We cannot take the risk.”
“Be damned to it.” The man’s patience was exhausted. “I say he dies and the others stand with me. We can get rid of the body so they’ll never find it.”
“Enough!” Lucas heard her move, heard the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked, heard the intake of breath as the men froze into immobility. He felt a shiver of fear, for her, not for himself. Absurd, extraordinary, but the bond between them seemed tighter still.
“You are dangerous fools,” she said. She still spoke quietly, but with an undertone of iron. “Do you really want to take this risk? Do you want to throw away all your profits because of some poor benighted city boy who gets lost in the Highlands? Think again, my friends, before it is too late.”
Once again Lucas found himself holding his breath. Violence bred violence, and she was taking a terrible risk to save his life. There were at least four of them. They could overpower her easily enough. One bullet was all she had to stand between him and death.
Time spun out. He felt each second pass.
Then everything changed. Lucas felt it first in the uneasy shift and shuffle of the smugglers’ feet, then in the muttered words he could not catch, then finally in the easing of the tension. It was the money, he thought, as much as the show of force, that had changed their minds.
“She’s right.” One of the men spoke grudgingly. “Think how much we made on the last few barrels. We don’t want the gaugers sniffing around again...”
There was a mutter of agreement, surly, resigned. Someone sighed as though the denial of his right to mete out a violent death was particularly disappointing.
Relief whipped through Lucas; his legs shook. If they made him walk now, he would not need to pretend to weakness. He felt the lady’s relief, too, though she masked it well.
“Bring him.” Her voice told Lucas that she had walked away as though she had already taken their capitulation for granted.
“My lady—” It was the spokesman, fighting a rearguard action. Then, correcting himself, “Ma’am—”
“Yes?” Her voice was light and cold. “If you still have concerns about my clemency, then console yourself with the thought that we will know exactly where to find him if he is foolish enough to say a word about tonight.” She turned back to Lucas. “No loose words in the inn after a few drams, Mr. Ross,” she said. “And no misplaced thoughts of spilling what you know to the authorities. A fine fool you would appear telling such a cock-and-bull story. My advice is that you should give up on the job at the castle, hurry home to Edinburgh and forget all about us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucas said again. He caught the bluebell fragrance again, sweet, stirring his senses. There was no way he was going to forget her. He willed his body not to harden into arousal. Christ. Who was this woman who could do this to him when he could not even see her?
“Bring him,” she repeated. Her tone was autocratic and this time no one argued.
The men half carried, half pulled Lucas as he stumbled to the mouth of the cave. Outside it was full night, the darkness pressing against his blindfold. The cold air was like a slap in his face, fresh and sharp with the sting of the sea. The sound of the waves was suddenly loud, boiling on the rocks below. He sensed that he was very close to the edge of the cliff.
“Untie him.” She was taking no chances that when her back was turned they would throw him over the edge. He knew it and the men knew it, too.
Someone was fumbling behind him to undo the ties that held his wrists, swearing all the while because they could not see what they were doing.
