Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Maura’s heart pounded madly.
She stood at the door of the barn, with Dugan right behind her, snaking his arm ’round her waist. Pulling her against him, as though he had not just made love to her again.
And she had allowed it, knowing how he despised her name.
“You’ll sleep beside me tonight, Maura,” he whispered in her ear.
Oh God. Maura wanted to. But she wanted more than this night and knew she could not have it. Lachann and the others were counting on Dugan to pay their rents, and they all knew how nebulous the promise of gold was.
She felt raw and helpless against him. “Dugan—”
“Hush, lass. Go into the cottage and eat,” he said. “I’ll join you soon.”
Join her? In Murray’s bedchamber?
Lachann already thought badly of her, and Dugan had not even told his brother that she was one of the hated Duncansons. She left the barn and started for the cottage, unsure how she was going to face the others after what she’d done. She was unsure how she could face herself.
She wondered if Dugan’s opinion of her had changed, now that he’d bedded her. Had anything else changed? She was still a Duncanson, and her own uncle might have been the one who’d killed Dugan’s family.
It made her feel queasy. She’d never cared for Robert Campbell, and now she knew it was for good reason. Any man who would murder families—innocent women and children—was not worth the leather that soled his boots.
She stepped inside the cottage where Lachann and Calum had already wrapped themselves in their heavy plaids and were sleeping on the floor near the fireplace. Archie had fallen asleep sitting up with his head on the table, next to the empty bottle of whiskey.
Now she understood why they seemed dead to the world and was glad she did not have to worry about facing them tonight.
The cottage was nearly as dark inside as it was out, so Maura lit a lamp and brought it to the table. She touched Archie’s shoulder and he roused himself just enough for him to belch before bidding her good night. Then he followed the example of the others and, without another word, found a comfortable place to lie down.
Maura prepared another meal with the unused ingredients, and just as she took it from the fire, Dugan returned.
He glanced ’round the darkened room, then spoke quietly to her. “Were they all asleep when you came in?”
She held up the whiskey bottle that had been at least half full when she’d left the cottage. “Yes. Archie fell asleep in his plate. I woke him and sent him to bed.”
Maura felt self-conscious as Dugan observed her scooping out two servings of food onto plates for them. She set down the pan and went to wipe her hands on her apron, but realized she’d lost it somewhere.
The barn. Her face heated and she did not know quite what to say. The intimacies they’d shared were meant for a husband and wife—and she and Dugan were anything but.
“ ’Tis not much—”
“Aye, ’tis a grand feast. And unexpected,” Dugan whispered. “You need not serve us, Maura.”
On the contrary, Maura felt there was a great deal she ought to do for his clan to make amends for the actions of her own.
Dugan had made her no promises. He’d seduced her so easily, her own wantonness made her feel ashamed. Yet she could not help but want what he’d said just before she’d left him—to lie with him all through the night.
For their time together was limited.
Maura sat down across from Dugan, but before she could pick up her spoon, he laid his hand over hers. “You are beautiful, lass.”
She shivered with pleasure. “There’s no need to flatter me, Dugan,” she whispered.
“ ’Tis not flattery when it’s the truth.”
Maura’s breath caught in her throat. His eyes were so blue in the flickering light of the candle. And sincere. ’Twould be so easy to fall in love with the man, but even after all they’d shared, she still could not trust that he wouldn’t give her over to Kildary. How could he make that promise when the welfare of his clan might depend upon the ransom?
The only thing Maura could do was follow the course she’d set the previous night when she discovered the French words waxed into the backs of the maps. Take him to Loch Aveboyne. And if there was no gold to be found...
Maura prayed that she could figure out the missing clue and the treasure would be there.
They ate in silence, and when they were through, Maura stacked the plates and bowls on one end of the table. She began to gather the forks and spoons, but Dugan lifted her into his arms. “Bring the lamp,” he whispered, moving quietly so as not to awaken the others. “I want to see you when I make love to you this time.”
It was still dark when Dugan left Maura sleeping in Kennan Murray’s modest bedchamber. His mood was somber in spite of the satisfaction he’d experienced during the night, whether he was inside her or just lying next to her. Holding her naked body close to his was a sensation as near to heaven as he could imagine.
He’d been so occupied with her lush body and the delights he’d experienced through the night that he’d forgotten his true purpose in seducing her. Dugan had learned naught about their destination or the clues she’d discovered.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair. Plans be damned, he wanted her in his bed. He wanted to feel her silky hair trailing across his chest as she pressed kisses to his most sensitive places.
He groaned at the memory of her sensual caresses. He could not imagine tiring of the soft sounds she made when he pulsed inside her and brought her to her peak.
Gesu. Dugan forced his attention to what he must do.
He pulled his hair back into its queue and lit a candle at the table. Lachann, Conall, and Archie were still sleeping soundly when he retrieved Murray’s framed map from beneath the chest near the bedroom. He opened up his traveling pack and took out the old maps again, laying them on the table alongside Murray’s framed map.
Dugan figured out the location of Murray’s cottage on the man’s map and determined that they were about two days’ ride from Loch Monar. ’Twas likely the Duke of Argyll was already headed there, and making good time. Dugan wanted to stay as far away from the duke and his men as possible. He did not want their paths to cross at all.
Of course it had occurred to him that Maura might be lying. ’Twas a constant worry. How could she admit that Loch Monar was the location of the treasure? Such an admission would ruin her ploy of having to lead him personally to yet a different secret location.
But he did not sense a lie in her. Her expressions were wholly transparent, as much as she attempted to keep her feelings hidden. She’d seen something on those pieces of map—and she knew better than to tell him what it was.
Dugan sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He did not want to give her to Kildary. ’Twas more than the idea of spoiling her father’s plans.
He hated the thought of abandoning her to the old baron. Hated knowing that soon, whether or not they found the treasure, they would part ways.
He despised the thought of leaving her to fend for herself, as it seemed she’d had to do for all of her life.
Dugan removed Murray’s map from its frame and rolled it up, then put it and the others into his pack. He might not know what to do about Maura, but at least he had an accurate map to show him where they were.
“Laird?” Conall asked as he rose from his place on the floor near the fire.
“Aye, Conall. Good morn.” Though Dugan thought ’twas anything but good. His irresponsibility during the previous night grated on him. He’d shown less discipline than a rutting youth, binding himself to Maura when those bonds would soon be severed.
Conall pinched his eyes closed and rubbed his head, swaying slightly.
“You look as though you took one dram too many,” Dugan remarked.
“More like five, but ’twas a fine baurley-bree, Dugan,” he said, his words slightly slurred. “Sorry we did’na leave any for you.”
“You’d have been a sight better off if you had,” Dugan replied, though he was glad they’d all been so inebriated they had not taken note of his activities last night with Maura. He did not need a discussion on the wisdom of his actions at the moment, not when he was questioning them himself.
Lachann sat up next, rubbing his head. “What’s all the shouting for?”
Dugan closed his pack and allowed Lachann’s eyes to adjust. ’Twas going to be a long day, by the looks of them.
The sun’s rays streamed into the eastern windows as Dugan crossed the room to sit down at Murray’s desk. He took pen and paper from a drawer and uncapped the ink bottle.
“What’re you doing, Dugan?” Conall asked, lying back down.
“Writing a note to whoever finds this cottage empty and wonders what happened to Murray. ’Tis only right.”
Dugan dipped the quill into the ink and wrote a simple paragraph about the man’s demise for anyone who came along looking for him. He wrote the date and mentioned where they had buried the man. Then he signed it.
He looked over at his men. “We leave as soon as you can haul your sorry arses up off the floor.”
Maura managed to escape the cottage without exchanging a word with Dugan’s men, and went down to the pond to bathe. The water was brisk and it washed away the sweet warmth of Dugan’s body.
And yet she knew he was anything but sweet. Oh, he’d taken care with her, being certain not to cause her any discomfort. He’d brought her pleasure time and again as they twined themselves so intimately under the blankets in Kennan Murray’s bed. But they both knew his mission had not changed. This would soon end. Even now, Baron Kildary might be making his way across the highlands to Braemore.
She swallowed a laugh of despair at the thought that their paths could easily cross while they journeyed toward Loch Aveboyne. Cromarty was east, Braemore to the west, and the path she and Dugan followed was directly in the middle. Oh God.
Maura could not bring herself to think about it. Not now.
She sat down on an old stump and pulled on her stockings and shoes, then her gown. Naught had gone as she’d planned since the night she escaped her escort at Fort William. Maura did not know if she would be able to find the French treasure, nor had she made any progress in getting away to Loch Camerochlan. Perhaps worst of all ... she had given her innocence and most of her heart to a man who would send her to Cromarty in exchange for three thousand pounds.
At least she was not cheap.
She bent at the waist and laid her head down on her lap.
She’d been so damned foolish to give away her heart to a man who would never share his own—at least, not with her. She was still merely a pawn in the contest between Dugan and Argyll.
As alone as she’d ever been.
Maura wiped her tears on her skirts and took a long, shaky breath before returning to the cottage. The deep connection she’d felt with Dugan was illusory, and she needed to remember that.
Dugan’s men were out saddling the horses when she got back, and the three looked as rough as Maura felt. Dugan came out of the barn leading the horse-drawn wagon. When he looked up and saw her, his gaze was indifferent, leaving a hollow sensation in the center of her chest.
And she’d thought she’d prepared herself.
“Do you ride, Maura?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “Some.”
“Good. ’Twill be better. Archie ...”
“Aye, Laird.”
“You’ll drive the cart and Maura will ride your horse.”
Dugan took Maura’s arm. “Are you ready to leave?”
“I’ll just get my bag—”
“I already put it in the wagon.”
“Oh, then ... Yes. I’m ready.”
He lifted her onto the horse and Maura attempted to settle herself in the saddle, though it did not come naturally to her. ’Twas a man’s saddle.
And she was ... tender.
“Can you do it, Maura?”
Heat flooded her face and she knew she’d turned as red as a tomato. He was asking if she could manage to ride after giving him her virginity. After making love with him over and over during the night.
“Of course.” She was not going to admit to any frailty. How could she when his manner was so distant? “I’m ready.”