It seemed she had slept a lifetime, yet she felt as if her eyes had only just closed. Phoebe was aware of arms lifting her. She looked up, her sight catching the angular jut of a man’s jaw. She reached to touch a lock of raven hair that curled where neck met shoulder, but stopped when the roof of the carriage gave way to a clear night sky. She blinked up into the light of a full moon and nestled into the crook of Kiernan’s neck when cool air rushed across her face.
So quiet here. Phoebe opened her eyes. She lay on a bed in a room she didn’t recognize. Still, something in the flicker of light cast by the fire in the hearth sent a ripple of security through her. She gazed in wonder at the sea green canopy that draped the bed before again closing her eyes.
Voices, soft, murmured nearby. Had she slept? Her head turned toward the sound as though it was a mechanical object controlled by something other than her will. Phoebe opened her eyes and saw only the blur of objects. A figure moved toward her and sat on the bed beside her. She tilted to the side toward the weight on the mattress. She focused on the figure, trying to understand the sense of familiarity she felt.
“Uncle?” Phoebe said and reached up to touch his face.
“Shh,” he replied. “Sleep.” A tiny strand of hair was brushed back from her face. “It won’t be long now,” he said. “Sleep while you can.”
And she did.
“Phoebe.”
Her name came to her as though an echo from a distant canyon.
“Phoebe.”
Large hands grasped her shoulders. She tensed, then relaxed upon understanding the gentleness in the touch. She felt a little shake to her body.
“Phoebe, wake up. It’s time.”
Time? She tried to recall a forgotten appointment.
“Wake up.” The voice grew more insistent.
Phoebe opened her eyes and blinked into the face above her.
“This isn't what I had planned,” he was saying. “Not what you had planned, I know. But so much more than your reputation is at stake now.”
“Reputation,” she repeated groggily.
“Yes.”
“Ashlund.” She slowly wrapped her fingers around the wrist gripping her shoulder. Flesh and blood. Indeed, he was with her in this unfamiliar place.
“Yes,” he said. “Can you get up?”
“Must I?”
He broke into a brief smile and she realized his brow had been furrowed in a fierce frown.
“You must. Though, I promise you a good bed once we are—”
“What time is it?” she interrupted.
“Five-thirty.”
Phoebe glanced at the curtained window and detected no sunlight. She frowned. “I slept an entire day away?”
“You haven’t, sweetheart. It is five-thirty in the morning.”
“Morning?” She sat up, forcing him back as he released her. The room spun around her. She tried to focus on him. “What are you doing in my chambers at this ungodly hour? Is this my bedchamber?” she added more to herself than him, glancing down to find she was dressed in nothing but a shift. “Rather improper, you being here.”
Kiernan took her hand in his. “Propriety is of little consequence at this point.”
“I beg your pardon.” Her stomach gave a lurch to match the dizziness in her head. “My agreeing to come to Scotland gives you no rights to my bed.”
A tender smile touched his mouth. “I know. The necessity of what lays ahead is what forces me to overstep the boundaries of gentlemanly behavior. I pray you'll forgive me. We have a trip ahead of us, but it’s what awaits us there I have come to explain.” He gave her an odd look, then said, “Is the idea of marriage to me really so appalling?”
“Marriage? Why the devil are we discussing marriage at five—” Badgering her in the dawn hours was going too far. She kicked. He grasped her shoulders and forced her back against the pillows.
“Phoebe,” he said, his voice firm, his expression now burning with a fervor that startled her. “Do you remember what happened last night?”
“I—dear God.” She stilled. "Is Adam really dead?"
“Yes.”
She stared at him, her breathing heavy. “You.”
He shook his head. “We have been over this. I had a single pistol.”
“But you could have—”
“When have you known me to carry more than a single weapon?”
That stopped her. She recalled that first night when he had waylaid her. “Never thought I’d need more than one shot,” he had said. And he hadn't even shot those men…had he?
She focused on him. “Who?” Her voice caught. “Why?”
“I don't know. I didn't know the man, remember?”
She flushed. “I never dreamed he would—” Tears threatened again.
“I know.” Kiernan squeezed her shoulder, then released her. “Up.” He pulled her into a sitting position. “As hard as it may be to believe, we have a larger problem at the moment.”
He stood and Phoebe swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. “What could possibly be worse?”