Connor stashed the ruby inside the box. “I’ll convey the stone to our contacts. Once it’s secure, I’ll head to the castle. With the two of ye traveling in that carriage, slow as sap in winter, I’ll likely be biding my time before the two of ye arrive.”
Gerard readied the carriage horses. “Watch yer back, brother. There’s no telling what’s crawling about in the brush.”
Connor shrugged. “Nothing I cannae eliminate with my pistol and my blade.”
His harsh words unleashed a prickle of fear along the length of Johanna’s spine. Her stomach did a flip. The possibility of harm coming to the bold Scot speared her. How she yearned to touch him, to kiss him and tell him how her heart ached at the thought. But she could not give her emotions the chance to run wild. She had to remain calm. Composed. Determined.
“Connor, tell me you will take care.” Could he hear the undercurrents of feeling in her voice?
He covered her hand with his. “Ye’ve no reason to concern yerself over me. But ye need to be honest. With me. With yerself. Ye dinnae have to put yerself in the devil’s reach.”
Emotion burned her throat. “I must…I must go to her.”
“Ye dinnae have to do this, Johanna. Trust us to bring the bairn to ye.”
“I cannot leave her. Not even to the two of you. I know in my heart…you’ll bring Laurel to me. But I must be there for her.” As he squeezed her hand so very gently, tears she refused to shed brimmed in her eyes. “She needs me.”
“Aye, then ye must go.” Connor’s gaze cooled to jade. He pulled her close, his lips nearly touching hers. Yet, he kept the smallest of distances between their flesh. “Trust Gerard to keep ye safe. Use the weapons we’ve given ye. And know I’ll be there when ye need me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Johanna studied the rugged surroundings, drinking in the beauty of the magnificent mountains and lush landscape as she contemplated the isolation of the countryside. She had not seen a soul for miles. No inns. No taverns. Nothing but the wild, sweeping splendor of the Highlands.
It wouldn’t be long now until they arrived at Cranston’s fortress. Gerard estimated they’d breach the grounds of Granloch Castle by sundown. The sun dipped lower, still not nearing the horizon, but definitely on the wane. Soon, she’d lay eyes on the man who had upended her existence.
The prospect kindled a fresh wave of emotion. Talons pierced her heart. If only she had the luxury of shedding tears at this moment. She could not let her fortitude falter. Not now. It seemed as though she’d endured this weight on her soul for ages. In truth, a mere fortnight had passed since she’d received Cranston’s summons. But that brief expanse of time seemed endless. Surely she’d manage another few hours. And then, Laurel would be free.
Johanna could return to her well-ordered existence. There was no room in her life for a love affair with a man who lived a life far removed from her predictable days and nights. The arrogant Scot would likely chafe at the notion of confining his hours to one place…and his amorous attentions to one woman.
The carriage jostled along at a brisk pace. Gerard held the reins with an assured competence. Such a handsome man, that one. So similar in features and manner to his brother. Yet, his voice did not unfurl heat through her body. His smile did not send her pulse racing in a wild gallop. His nearness did not fill her every cell with longing.
So very unlike her inborn response to his brother. Her body sensed Connor’s presence at the merest contact, attuned to his scent and heat and the passion in his wicked gaze. She’d allowed that awareness to overrule her good sense. She couldn’t allow her yearnings to trump the stability that would provide a firm foundation for raising a child.
A jarring thump startled her from her thoughts. Goodness, such a rut they’d encountered. Or had the carriage wheel struck a rock? She grasped the seat, bracing herself as the coach rumbled over another obstruction. Much more of this, and the bit of food she’d downed before their journey would be making a most unfortunate reappearance.
A sound—an explosive crack—tore through the glen. Then another.
Gunfire!
“Get down!” Gerard’s hoarse shout confirmed her horrifying conclusion. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Had they happened upon bandits?
Or worse?
Another sharp report rang out. The carriage shuddered to a halt. The roar of Gerard’s long gun thundered against her ears. Snatching her revolver from her traveling bag, she dropped to the floor, pulled in a breath, and prepared to pull the trigger.
A peculiar silence fell over the coach. The hammering of her own pulse nearly deafened her. She peered over the side of the carriage.
Dear God! Gerard lay crumpled several feet beyond the front wheel of the carriage. She saw no blood, but the sight of his still body threatened to gut her fragile courage.
A hulk of a man moved into view. Munro. How had he known their path?