Free Bride of Dunloch (Highland Loyalties) by Veronica Bale

her skin as he panted with exhaustion. Her hands encircled him, gripping his bare, feverish flesh. How different he was from Lord Reginald, she thought. His skin was so much smoother, sculpted over well-defined muscles, and there was not a hint of a paunch at his stomach, unlike the baron.
    She flushed, angry with herself for having even entertained the idea at such an inappropriate time; at having entertained it at all , in fact. With renewed focus, she let him go and ladled the heated water into the cup of crushed needles. The exercise had taken a toll on him—his eyes drooped with fatigue.
    “You must drink some more of the infusion before you sleep,” she said.
    “If ye insist,” he answered, closing his eyelids.
    When the infusion had steeped enough, Jane picked up the cup. Raising his head and cradling it in the crook of her arm, she helped him to drink. Weak and feverish though he was, it was far less of a challenge to get him to drink the liquid in its entirety than it had been the night before.
    “Before you sleep, sir,” Jane began.
    “Robbie,” he interjected softly.
    “I am sorry. Before you sleep, Robbie , may I ask you something?”
    He tipped his chin once, on the brink of sleep.
    She took a breath, nervous. “You ... knew the men in the valley, did you not?”
    Robbie said nothing for a long moment. When he answered, the tone of his voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Nonetheless there was a quality to it, a sadness that prompted a hollow ache in her chest.
    “I did, aye.”
    “The young man, the one lying on his side closest to the trees with the fair hair ... I cannot rid my thoughts of his face. Who was he?”
    “He were my cousin,” he answered after another sad pause. “Connall. Twenty-three years he were, wi’ a loving wife—a bonnie lass by the name of Margaret—a young son, and a wee babe on the way.”
    He said no more, though she wished he would. But at that point she thought it best to let him sleep. Not only did he need the rest, he also needed the release —a reprieve from the reality of what had happened, what he’d lost so very recently. The sadness which had weighted his voice affected her, and her heart went out to him. It was a strange sensation—feeling sympathy for a man whom she knew to be an enemy to her husband.
    Though she no longer considered him a savage Scot as she had when she first encountered him. Perhaps she had been wrong to be frightened by all of the stories she’d been fed by the ladies in Sussex. And if she had been wrong about that ...
    To bend, you must open your eyes and see the whole truth. For there is much about Scotland and its people that you do not know ...
    Jane collected the soiled linens and, taking up her cake of soap, she ladled water into the chamber pot to wash them. She scrubbed with fervour, determined to still the thoughts that tumbled in her head. There had been nothing like this in her world in Sussex, no conflicts, no warring obligations—nothing to spoil her simple life of privilege. Things had been so peaceful in England.
    Lady D’Aubrey’s words taunted her, echoing fiercely in her mind as if to mock her naivety.
    Open your eyes ...

 

 
    Chapter 6
     
    The dowager baroness’ words haunted Jane all afternoon, and she found herself dwelling on them as Ruth bathed her that evening after supper.
    “I daresay, mistress, I have not seen you so distracted in a long while. Even before your wedding day you were not this distant, so I know something must be bothering you. Pray, tell me. What is it?”
    Jane chewed her lip, contemplating. “Do you ever feel as though the course of your life has suddenly been altered?” she mused. “Like it has been travelling along one path as it should, but then   ... oh, I don’t know ... then of a sudden the fates have stepped in to redirect it?”
    “Can’t say as I have, my Lady. I’ve always known my life would be spent in service.”
    “But you started service in Sussex, and now