Free The Master Of Strathburn by Amy Rose Bennett Page B

Robert noticed the shadowy forms of trees through the driving rain and blanketing fog. They were not far from shelter now. Jessie’s head had lolled back against his shoulder some time ago. He suspected that she’d passed out rather than fallen asleep. Regardless of the risk to himself and now regrettably Tobias through association, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d taken the right course of action in assisting the girl. He couldn’t have left her at the burn, wounded and in shock. Especially not in this weather. Indeed on a night like this she could easily die from exposure.
    But the dilemma he still faced was, what was he going to do with Jessie now? Rescuing damsels in distress had not figured into his plans whatsoever; especially damsels that may be in league with his half-brother. She was undoubtedly a canny lass. Even though she had been in considerable pain and shock, she had unerringly noticed Tobias’s slip when the lad had referred to him as my lord . They both needed to be extremely careful about what they said around her. He would need to remind Tobias later to only ever refer to him as Rob.
    But that brought to mind the question, did Jessie know of the notorious Jacobite, Robert Grant—the long-lost Master of Strathburn and erstwhile Viscount Lochrose? That after all this time, he was still a wanted man with a price on his head? Now that he had returned, would she also see him as a direct threat to Simon’s future claim to the title of the Earl of Strathburn?
    He was not sure how far he could trust Jessie Munroe, if at all.

Chapter Four
    When Jessie next opened her eyes, it was to find that she was soaking wet and the coldest she had ever been in her life. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably in her head and her arm and ankle both throbbed in time with her heartbeat. A scratchy woollen blanket covered her and her cheek lay against a greasy sheepskin rug. She must be at Lord Strathburn’s hunting lodge.
    Rob was directly in front of her, kneeling before a small fireplace as he prodded the logs and kindling with a poker to encourage the flames to take purchase. In the flickering light, she could see he was also dripping wet.
    Biting her lip to stop herself from whimpering, Jessie pushed herself up to a sitting position with her good arm. A wave of dizziness assailed her and the room—a bedroom by the look of it—tipped crazily for a moment, but then thankfully, everything righted itself. The small space was sparsely furnished with an armchair and a solid looking but simply carved four-poster bed. A large wooden chest stood at its foot.
    Her gaze skittered away from the bed and settled warily on Rob. What is he going to do with me? She really wished she had that poker in her grasp. Just in case …
    ‘How are you feeling, Jessie?’
    She jumped and her gaze darted back to Rob. His blue eyes were even darker in the uncertain light of the fire, his gaze intent— speculative —as he studied her also. She swallowed and found her voice. ‘A wee bit c-cold an’ sore.’ As if to belie her statement and despite her half frozen state, her cheeks grew hot as he continued his quiet scrutiny.
    ‘And I think that is a wee bit of an understatement, my lass,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘You must be freezing and in a considerable amount of pain. But I’ll take good care of you. There’s nothing to fear.’
    Strangely and perhaps unwisely, Jessie was inclined to believe his last statement. She detected no menace, only concern in Rob’s gaze as it lingered on her face for a moment longer before raking over the rest of her. Assessing her. What a sight she must present, shaking and dripping and bloodied, as weak and defenceless as a lamb.
    Rob, on the other hand, seemed anything but defenceless. Even though he was as completely sodden as herself, he looked so blatantly masculine and powerful—indeed so physically attractive—her heart hammered against her ribs. He’d removed his plaid and jacket and was