Page 13 of Highland Crown
Isabella broke out into a cold sweat. How careless of her not to go back and sweep away the track. The thought had never entered her mind. But it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d had no time to do it. Her patient had needed immediate care.
Jean’s voice was rising in pitch. “Yer a bold piece of work. Out with it. Ye think I come on some treasure and decided not to share it with the folks in the village.”
Isabella recalled what Jean said before about being able to explain her presence, but that didn’t seem like a good way to go now. She pushed at the pieces of wood on either side of the opening, desperately trying to make room for herself to crawl in behind the man. Driftwood shifted, clattering in the darkness of the storage space. She’d gained very little.
“I made no such accusation. But since ye got nothing to hide, ye won’t mind me taking a look.”
Panic washed through her. Half of her body was still protruding into the cottage.
“Come in and see for yerself, if ye must, ye nosy cur.”
Giving the man one more shove, she crowded in after him.
The door of the cottage opened at the same moment Isabella dropped the leather hide in place. She was on her knees behind the wounded man, using her body to hold him in a sitting position.
Her patient murmured something, and she quickly covered his mouth with a hand.
“Please, for the love of God,” she whispered softly in his ear. He smelled of sea and night. “If you make a noise, neither of us gets out of here alive.”
Isabella felt the man’s back and shoulders grow tense,taking some of his weight off her. His head rolled slightly but remained drooped forward, and she prayed he was awake enough to understand what she’d just told him.
She heard their voices inside the cottage.
“Do ye see? Nothing. No treasure. Only blood I been cleaning off my floor from the fish that went into my stew last night.”
Blood on the floor. Her bag lay open by the cot. A few of her medical instruments still sat in the pot by the fire. Her travel cloak hung from a peg on the wall. Isabella felt her stomach tighten and grow queasy. She wondered how observant this Habbie was. Indications of her presence lay in the open all over the cottage.
Footsteps came close. Isabella pressed her face against the wounded man’s back as she started to shiver. Fear washed through her, paralyzing her. If he pulled back the leather covering, there would be no escape.
She was like a trapped animal watching a hunter approach.
“Satisfied?” Jean barked. “I told ye I’ve nothing here.”
Habbie gave no reply, and Isabella tried to imagine what the villager was staring at now. The silence was the most chilling. She had no idea if the man had ever been inside Jean’s cottage before. She didn’t know if he could identify those things that did not belong. He had to be armed. Her back was to the makeshift door, and prickles of fear ran down her spine. If he lifted the hide, he’d see her. And how was she going to defend herself?
Cold sweat covered her brow. She worried that the drumming of her heart was loud enough to be heard outside. A large hand slipped around hers in the darkness, and she was relieved to know she was not alone. Herfingers entwined with his. She welcomed their strength. Her body molded to him. His wide shoulders were a wall, offering shelter. Her cheek brushed against his coat, and she breathed in the warm scent of the man and tried to calm the fears.
“That’ll do, Habbie,” Jean snapped. “If yer planning on staying around here any longer, ye can just get down on yer knees and clean that floor for me.”
“If ye think I’ll be doing yer chores, ye really are a daft auld cow,” the villager answered with a scoffing snort. A chair scraped on the stone floor. “What’s that?”
“What?”
All of Isabella’s fears surged through her again.
“This ring. Where did ye find it?”
Her wedding ring. On the table. Isabella bumped her forehead again and again on her patient’s back. Of course, Archibald could not give her a plain ring. She’d told him she needed no ring at all. Not to be put off, he’d bought her an ornate gold band of obvious value.
“Found it. On the beach a fortnight ago. It’s mine.”
“Don’t look like it sat in the sand even a minute. Looks brand-new. I’m thinking it came from that wreck.”
Jean cursed him roundly. “Damn me, if ye think I’ll let ye take it.”
Please, Isabella pleaded silently, let him have it and be gone. The thought became a reiterating chant in her head. She wanted him to be gone.
“How ye going to stop me, eh?” The sneer was evident in his tone.
