Page 126 of A Scot Is Not Enough
“Looks like the young warder is doing his job from the other side of the door.”
“He can dance a jig for all I care,” she said overloud. “What news have you?”
He touched his finger to his mouth. “Shhh.Keep your voice down, lass. There are ears everywhere.”
Knowing flashed in his eyes. No names would be said aloud.
“Is... everyone safe?” she asked.
He nodded. “We decided it was best I bring the food.”
Her spirits sunk. She guessed thewehe referred to was Aunt Maude, Aunt Flora, and Jenny, not Alexander. But a basket of food was a boon for which she should be grateful. Prisoners often went days without eating.
“Thank you for coming. Associating with me has become a risky proposition.”
“And I have a hole in my back to prove it.”
She winced. “You’re looking hale and hearty for a man who was left for dead.”
His smile was crooked. “I look like shite, lass, and we both know it.”
Eyes closed, she touched her forehead to the iron bars. The league was so close to finishing theirmission. Why, then, did they face such harsh setbacks?
“The countess shot me,” MacLeod said.
She looked up fast. His bald words were delivered in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I informed the others in your league.” MacLeod took extra care to lower his voice.
“I thought she was somehow involved. But why would she shoot you?”
MacLeod’s face was inches from hers. “Lady Denton paid me to spy on Neville House. On all of you.”
The iron bars she gripped were hard and cold, but weatherworn blue eyes staring back at her were harder and colder.
“It’s the world we live in, lass.”
What a stunning revelation. The Highlander wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. He was too practical for that.
“What a stony heart you have.”
“I wouldna have let her hurt you or... the others. Nor will I.”
“A vow of future protection? How comforting. Does your former employer know you’re alive?”
The jibe rolled off MacLeod’s back. He was a curtain wall of stone wrapped with a devil-take-you air.
“Have you gone to the magistrate?” she asked.
“I won’t waste my way breath.”
“Why not?”
He eyed her like a woman who’d gone soft in the head. “Because it’s her word against mine. We both know all she has to do is snap her fingers and a dozen servants will claim she was home the night I was shot.” His jaw worked menacingly. “There’s only one way to get the woman—beat her at her own game.”
“I tried that once,” she said miserably. “And you see where that got me.”
His gaze dropped to the chain, snaking out from under her hems.
