He met her gaze and found his voice. “Ye’ve no faith in me, lass. That’s a bluidy shame.”
Another tear escaped her shuttered lashes. A small shudder quaked her shoulders. “If I harbored no trust in you, I would never have put myself in this position. But that’s not enough. I must do whatever it takes to save my niece. Nothing you say will change that.”
He heard the hard truth in her words. Saw the unwavering set of her chin and the glint in her eyes. There’d be no dissuading Johanna from a path that might well lead to her death. Blast it, the lass was hardheaded. Just as mule-stubborn as himself. But he couldn’t abandon her. No matter the cost.
Johanna was proud. Firm in her resolve. Courageous. She knew the danger she faced. He could see it in her eyes. A flicker of apprehension cooled those beautiful indigo irises. But she only squared her shoulders and met her fear head on.
How could he do any less?
“Verrae well, then,” he said, ignoring the voice in his head bellowing that he was a damned fool. “I’ll see ye to the devil.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Johanna paced the inn’s small carriage house, tension filling her every cell as Connor and Gerard mapped out the logistics of their scheme. The brothers hashed through their strategy with the attention to detail of men well accustomed to covert planning. If only Johanna’s limbs did not quake ever so slightly while her pulse thudded in her ears. Soon, this nightmare would be over, she reassured herself. Laurel would be safe, and life would return to normal.
Without danger. Without passion.
Without Connor.
Devil take it, the very thought of an existence bereft of the sweetness of his kiss and the wickedness of his touch sent her stomach plummeting. The challenge in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. Especially now that she’d known the incomparable bliss to be found in his ardent desire.
This longing was a temporary madness. Nothing more. After she returned to London, she’d make arrangements to sail to Philadelphia and move along smartly, without a stubborn, arrogant warrior of a man to distract her from her pursuits. She’d left behind a novel half-completed in London. The voyage home would provide healing time to resume that manuscript. Perhaps she’d even finish the draft before she arrived in America. Once there, she’d find a skilled tutor to nurture Laurel’s precocious abilities, or better yet, a school where the child might develop friendships.
And Johanna would get on with her life.
Soon, this time in the Highlands would be a mere recollection, both bitter and glorious. A single chapter in her life, marked by danger and fear, and, ultimately, she hoped, triumph. Of course, she’d have the luscious memory of making love with Connor. He would always be a part of her heart. Nothing and no one could change that. Not even him.
Swallowing against the emotion that seared her throat, she moved to stand at Gerard’s side. He still affected the look of an elderly traveler. He’d done a fine job of applying just enough powder and shadowed coloring to simulate the look of a man decades older, and his clothing was cut loose, camouflaging his well-muscled shoulders and arms. Still, the taut, caged energy of his movements struck Johanna as wildly incongruous with his artificially lined face and whitened hair. Once they were on their way, he would alter his manner to fit the visage, adding to the effectiveness of his disguise.
Posing as a carriage driver, Gerard would escort Johanna to Cranston’s castle near Loch Ness. His presence would be readily justified. After all, a lady would not gallop up on horseback, nor did she possess a carriage for transport. A hired hack would be a necessity. With any luck, a necessity that would not be questioned.
Connor would trail them, but none too closely. They couldn’t chance him being spotted with Johanna. The brash Scot was well-known to Cranston. Indeed, he had a history of meddling in the collector’s endeavors. The thugs in Cranston’s employ had been afforded ample opportunity to learn his face. Ross and Munro were still out there, no doubt awaiting their chance to avenge themselves after the blood-stained encounter at the tavern that first night. Any sign of Connor would leave the rescue in shreds.
Saying little beyond what was necessary to prepare for the venture, the brothers took stock of their weapons. Connor selected a pistol, a long gun, and a lethal-looking dagger he tucked in his boot. Gerard stored a rifle within easy reach of the driver’s bench and holstered two pistols beneath his greatcoat. After stashing a dirk in his boot, he handed Johanna a small sgian dubh and a sheath to tether the blade to her calf.