Rogue's Challenge (9 page)

He chuckled, enjoying her wit and the many envious stares cast his way, although he knew he should not. “Tell me. Please. Michael is tending our horses and will not hear."

She nodded then let him assist her onto the boat. “I was just complaining about something I should've done a long time ago."

"And that was?” He escorted her to a vacant spot along the rail.

"Well, if you must know, I was wishing I'd had Lasik Surgery."

"And what would this surgery accomplish?"

"It would permanently change the shape of my corneas. The clear covering of the front of the eyes."

"Amazing. And this would allow you to see without your spectacles, I assume."

"For the most part. I wouldn't have perfect vision, but I wouldn't be blind either."

"And why have you not had this surgery?"

She pulled her gaze from the water and looked at him, her head cocked saucily. “If someone said they were going to cut on your eye with a small dagger, would you let them?"

"Ah, well, when put in that way, I can see your unease. But is this not a well tested technique performed by skilled men?"

She smirked. “And women, yes.” Her ire faded quickly. “But it's still scary, no matter how you look at it."

"Aye, ‘tis a bit unsettling. When you return, are you going to have this procedure performed?"

She let out a long sigh and looked to the rolling surf. “Probably. If this trip has taught me anything, it's the value of seeing.” A small laugh slipped from her lips with a shake of her head. “You know, I had an extra pair of glasses in my bag in the car. If only I'd carried it with me when Tuck and I snuck into the gardens at Raghnall Castle."

"You look back too much and too often, mistress. You must look around you at the world you are in, and not through a microscope."

Her gaze shot to his. “How do you know about microscopes?"

He grinned and leaned against the rail. “I have had many talks with Amelia over these last months. Her internment has forced her to find other ways of spending her time."

The soft sweet laugh he enjoyed bubbled from inside her. “I suspect Colin has been after her for some time to take it easy. No wonder my sending her to bed for the rest of her pregnancy ticked her off."

"Aye, he has done his best to keep her off her feet and resting as much as possible."

She nodded. “It's a good thing too, she could've delivered too early and lost them."

"That, I fear, would kill Colin."

"It wouldn't do Tuck much good either."

They fell silent for a long time, thoughts of their friends on their minds.

The ferry began its journey toward the opposite shore, and Ian's contemplation was interrupted. His singular thought lay in putting the slight rocking of the ship from his mind. He did not care for the sea, but felt confident that he would make it across the loch before anything untoward could happen.

A bout of cursing and a splash drew their attention.

"What's going on?” she asked.

He chuckled at the man floundering in the surf. “'Twould seem there was a stowaway."

"Oh no! What if he can't swim? What if—"

Ian gripped her arm before she made some dashed stupid decision to jump overboard and save the sorry sod. “The man is fine. Aye, he is swimming to shore,” he said, pointing toward the fellow.

"Oh, thank goodness,” she murmured, squinting in that adorable way of hers and tried to see the man as he made his way to shallow waters, but he knew she could not see him.

"You realize, ‘twould you who would be drowning if you had attempted to save him.” He couldn't refrain from smiling. This woman, blind to her surroundings, was willing to jump in and try and save a complete stranger.

Her head turned from her study of the shore growing smaller in the distance. “I—” she let out an exasperated sigh. “You're right. I would've sunk to the bottom in this dress.” She shook her head and looked to the loch.

"'Twas an honorable thought, but I, for one, am quite glad you decided against it."

She turned with a laugh. “Don't care for swimming, eh?"

He smiled back at her. “The loch is rather cold."

"Yes, it is,” she said, her laugh fading. “It's approximately sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit this time of year. Although not freezing, hypothermia could still set in with long exposure. Water lowers the body temperature twenty-five times faster than air."

Ian's smile grew. Her mind never stopped, and he found that fascinating.

Michael appeared beside them. “Jenny, may I ask you something?"

"Of course,” she said, and turned to the lad with one of her superior looks. One that said she could and would solve any problem he might present her. She was truly an amazing woman. He had known only one other with such confidence. Amelia Tucker MacLean. But hers lay in her physical abilities while Jenny's were mental. Both women were captivating.

And oft times most irritating, he thought with a small smile.

"While Fiona was helping you with your dresses and such did she no’ say anything that might help me tae find the right gift for her?” Michael asked. “She willna tell me what she wants.” The lad frowned with such intense vexation, Ian withheld the urge to laugh.

Finding the right gift for a woman was a difficult task, but all in sundry knew that Fiona wanted naught but a ring around her finger and for Michael to stop his dawdling and say the words that would bind them before a priest.

"Oh, well, no. I'm sorry, Michael, she didn't.” Jenny fiddled with a bit of lace at her collar, her gaze settling on something in the distance. “Well, not exactly."

"I beg you tae tell me,” Michael said painfully.

Her gaze came back to the lad's. “Well, she said she was nearly green with envy of Tuck. That she has the very thing she craves most."

"But what? What does Tuck have that she craves so?"

Ian chuckled and slapped a hand on the lad's back. “She wants to be a mother, you dolt! Marry the girl!"

Michael looked at Jenny. “Is that—do you think that ‘tis what she wants? Truly?” he asked, his voice faint and high.

Jenny nibbled at her bottom lip with a contrite smile and nodded, fully distracting Ian from the conversation at hand. Her face, pinkened by the wind off the loch, her lips, now a deep red, teased him to distraction. And the taste of her, he well remembered the sweetness of her kiss.

"Why didna she tell me?” Michael scraped his fingers across his scalp as he stalked off muttering curses beneath his breath.

The lad's display stopped Ian from making a cake of himself. It would not do to kiss the woman again, in public, and when he'd not been asked. She would likely slap his face, and he would surely deserve it. She was a lady, after all. But the memory of her taste lingered on his lips, and under the circumstances ‘twas not good, not good at all, for the taste of anything reminded him of his stomach.

"I hope I did the right thing,” Jenny whispered.

Ian did his best not to think on the rocking boat and focused his attentions on their conversation. “He shall be fine. We have all tried many times to convince the boy to get on with things, but he has a rather hard head."

"There seem to be a lot of those around here."

"Are you referring to me, mistress?"

"If the
hat
fits.” She laughed and propped her hand at her waist, a movement he knew did not bode well for him. “At first I thought we'd just gotten off on the wrong foot, but you have proven, time and again, to be the most stubborn man I've ever met."

"I am not stubborn. You simply cannot abide for someone else to be right."

She opened her mouth, but not a word came forth. With a huff, she spun around and planted her hands on the railing. The argument, a more ludicrous one if there ever was, was not over. Nor was the roiling in his stomach.

With a whirl, she turned and poked him in the chest. “You are not only wrong, you're insufferable, arrogant, officious, and—and—wrong,” she said with a firm nod.

He closed his eyes on a moan, fatigued by their argument and the incessant pitch and sway of the boat. “Another time, mistress, and I would argue with you—gladly—but alas I cannot at present.” He turned and made his way to the opposite railing where he was sure to lose his morning meal.

Jenny watched Ian's awkward gait as he crossed to the other side of the boat. What was the matter with the man? Then she witnessed his problem as he leaned over the railing. He wasn't one for sailing. She, on the other hand, was fine as long as she could see land.

"Michael,” she called, and the grumbling young Scot came up beside her. “I need some fresh water, would you get some for me?"

"Aye.” He retrieved one of their flasks, and using a handkerchief she'd tucked in her pocket, Jenny doused it with water.

She thanked Michael then made her way to Ian's side. Somehow she'd managed to cross the small boat without bumping into anyone or anything. A small feat in itself.

Without a word, she pressed the cloth to his forehead. There was no ignoring how sick he was, since all he could do was moan. He didn't refuse her attention, not even a whisper of an argument, just a pathetically muttered thank you.

Strange, she hadn't taken care of anyone before, not like this. Although she held a degree, many degrees in various scientific and medical fields, she wasn't really a doctor. She didn't know how to take care of people. Oh, she could set broken bones, suture wounds and such, but it wasn't the same thing.

Ian took the flask and rinsed his mouth before sliding slowly to the rough planks beneath their feet. He propped his back against the railing, his long legs stretching out before him. Jenny settled beside him and continued to wipe his brow and worked her way down across his cheeks to his throat, praying she wouldn't poke her finger in his eye.

"You should not sit here with me like this,” he muttered.

"Why not? Isn't it seemly?” she asked with a small laugh. He was sick, he needed attention, and present day convention wasn't about to stop her from giving it to him.

Although Tuck had explained that she didn't need an escort, Elspeth still gave Jenny an earful over the last two days about traveling with two single men and no one else.

Ian offered a harsh chuckle. “Nay, and you well know it. ‘Tis bad enough you travel without a female companion, but to tend me this way suggests—"

"Oh, hush. I don't think anyone cares."

He straightened somewhat. “They do care, make no mistake. But perhaps your attentions are for the best. If you appear to be mine, ‘twould save me a good deal of trouble."

"I don't think any sort of subterfuge is necessary,” she argued, although the word
mine
fixed itself firmly in her brain. She hoped she could keep the thought from spreading.

"I think ‘tis very necessary,” he said, easing closer. “'Twould likely save me from having to kill that pair staring so intently at you."

"You can't be serious,” she said, a false light tone to her voice. It wouldn't do her any good to look, she wouldn't know whom he was talking about, but the very clear memory of someone in the woods with her that morning came to the forefront of her mind.

"I am most serious,” he said, his voice a deadly calm.

She glanced over her shoulder and looked around at the other passengers. No one seemed out of place, and none seemed to be watching her, but she really couldn't tell.

She dabbed at his upper lip and heard him swallow. “Do you need me to help you up to the railing?"

"Nay, there ‘tis naught left,” he said with a pitiful groan.

"It'll be over soon."

"Alas not soon enough."

She glanced once again around her at the many people then turned back to Ian. “I really wasn't alone this morning in the woods, you know,” she whispered. “I know I can't see worth a darn, but there was someone there."

"An animal of some sort,” he murmured.

She dampened her handkerchief again and pressed the cloth to his forehead. Her fingers touched on his curls, distracting her for a moment. She lifted a few strands from his brow then slid her fingers deeper into the mass as she bathed his brow. A man's hair shouldn't be this soft, she thought.

He moaned low, adding to the warm glow building inside her, but she forced herself back to what she had to tell him. She laid her handkerchief aside and returned her fingers to his hair. He didn't seem to mind.

"It wasn't an animal. I would've frightened it off,” she said, sinfully enjoying herself.

"You screamed, quite loudly,” he said with a rough chuckle.

"That was after I realized it wasn't an animal. After I screamed, I heard you and Michael coming and the man cursed."

He clasped her wrist and brought her hand to rest against his chest. “You heard someone other than I curse?"

"Yes. He was approximately ten feet away, parallel from the direction you were coming.” She tried to put the feel of his broad chest beneath her fingertips from her mind, but it wasn't easy, they still tingled from his soft curls. “I didn't see him, of course, but I distinctly heard him swear. And in English. Thus my query as to the ratio of Englishmen to Scots on the island."

"Michael!” Ian called and jumped to his feet, pulling Jenny with him. His arm wrapped around her waist and pressed her to his side. He wavered only slightly.

Michael appeared in mere seconds. “Aye?"

"Mistress Maxwell is quite certain there was someone in the wood with her this morn,” he said lowly.

"Ah, so that be what the hollerin’ were about,” Michael said.

"We need to keep a sharp eye,” Ian said. “We do not know who or why he was there, but I suspect it has something to do with our charge here."

"That isn't logical,” Jenny said. “No one in this—here would be looking for me."

Ian cupped her cheek. “Perhaps not for the reasons you think, but I will not allow him the opportunity to achieve his goal."

"Nor I,” Michael added. “The two behind my right shoulder have a keen interest in the lass, but I'd hoped was just a wee bit of envy."

"I noticed the same,” Ian said, his grip on her waist tightening.

Jenny rubbed her brow with her growing headache. This trip was getting more and more complicated. As if waltzing through time without her glasses wasn't bad enough, she supposedly had some lunatic chasing her. Oh, and let's not forget her attraction to a rogue who slid effortlessly into every fantasy she ever had. If she did find any glasses worth wearing, she had the distinct feeling when she saw Ian Southernland for real for the first time she was going to be in very big trouble.