Page 13 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“That says he is green and will soon learn that justice is often injustice here. If I were you, lass, I would not speak of your brother to Highland folk.”
“I, for one, dinna want to hear about him again,” Ranald said.
“Ranald, keep quiet or you will be heard,” Dougal said.
“King’s men just ahead,” Andrew said.
“Lay still,” Dougal told the girl, who struggled again. Tugging the blanket securely over both of them, he slid down to lie flat in the straw, pressing her tightly against him. Like lovers, he thought, bundled and courting. He scowled at the thought.
“Oof,” she said. “Beast,” she hissed in his ear.
“This is for your safety as well as ours,” he murmured. “We must get past those men, and we cannot do that if they see you.”
“I shall scream,” she said fervently, and drew a breath.
He slipped a hand over her lips, over smooth, creamy cheeks, and leaned close. “Aye, do you dare?” he whispered.
She looked at him, eyes wide in the dim light filtering through the tartan weave and made a muffled squeak.
“Hush. Please,” he whispered.
She bit his finger. He yelped, clamped his hand down again.
“Listen, my wee bonny lass,” he hissed. “We will pass this road without incident. This is for the sake of many, not just us. Is it clear?”
She nodded. Dougal kept his hand over her mouth, though wary of her teeth. He wrapped her into his arms to discourage the writhing. A glimpse showed the fear in her eyes, and he felt such remorse hecould barely look at her.
“I am sorry,” he whispered.
“You there! Stop in the name of the king!” a man called out harshly.
The cart drew to a halt. Dougal lay still, holding the girl, feeling warmth generate between them under the plaid. His cheek rested against her hair, her hand curled on his chest, his arm and leg strapped her down. He felt her breaths, felt her tremble as they waited.
She smelled like rain and roses mixed with earth and rock dust. He closed his eyes for a moment. A long time had passed since he had held a woman in his arms. This one smelled like heaven and felt like a perfect fit, body and soul. If only he could have met her under better circumstances—
She jammed her elbow into his ribs, and he grunted. As her mouth moved, he did not want to be bitten again, and shifted his fingers. “Do not scream,” he whispered.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “I will not tell them you are smugglers. You have my word, I swear.”
“A fairy’s bargain,” he said.
“A what?”
“A fairy’s bargain is never to be trusted. Especially when it is offered by a stranger, a beautiful, charming lass who holds a man in her thrall.” He moved his fingers over her mouth, but she managed to get a hand free to grab his hand.
“Thrall? Hah! What do you know of fairies?” she added.
“Some and not enough. Hush,” he murmured, covering her mouth with his hand.
“Stop in the name of the king!” The shout echoed closer this time.
Dougal froze, felt Miss MacCarran do the same. He held her tight, improperly so, his leg wedged between hers, her skirts wadded between their bodies. He waited, sensed she did too. The plaid covered them well, but he rolled over her just enough to hide her,risking that his form might be noticed.
“Who are you? What is in the wagon?” one of the revenue men called out.
“MacGregors from north of the glen, sir,” Andrew replied.
“Kin to the MacGregors who carry illicit whisky through these hills?”
