There was peace with her.
And the letter was going to shatter that peace.
“I love your plan,” Fiona crooned back, pushing on his chest until he lay down on his back and she crawled over him, straddling his hips with her own. She kissed him on the mouth, then sat up, her hand on his chest, and reached into her bodice to pull out the letter. “But first, we must see what news.”
Brogan groaned, his cock aching as it pressed to the heat of her through the fabric of her drawers, her skirts bunched up around her thighs and his hands on her rounded hips.
“Ye torment me,” he said with a roguish grin.
“Well, good,” she said with a waggle of her brows. “For that is certainly my aim.”
Fiona broke the seal on the letter and unfolded it. She scanned the contents while he waited—not so patiently—to find out what it said.
“So, are ye curious?” she asked.
“Aye. But I’d never ask ye to divulge if ye didna feel it right.” He’d just grin and bear it, because he loved her so damn much. Maybe too much.
“I want to share.” Fiona scanned the woods, as if waiting for someone to pounce, and given all that had happened, he too was waiting for just that.
“I believe we are quite alone,” he said.
“Me too.” She cleared her throat and began to read.
Dear F.,
Have you heard about the festival at Borro to celebrate Dale’s 19th? I hear it’s going to be a real treat. Perhaps they will have all the sweets we could ever dream about, though not many things are being shipped in these days. Everyone is going to be at the fete! Even our bonnie friend who’s been entertained these last few days with the most unlikely of hosts! Wee L, you know A’s younger brother, called upon our friend in need and housed him in what some would call a cage, but really, some people need to be more generous. We can’t all live in a castle.
I do hope to see you there. It’s been so long since we’ve had a rendezvous.
Your devoted friend,
A.M.
“That makes no sense.” Brogan frowned.
“This is verra true.” Fiona giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “If ye were to come across the box and find the letter, then ye’d see it is all just silly nonsense. But in fact, it is a coded message. Care to take a guess?” She raised her brow in challenge.
“How could I no’?”
She turned the letter around, and he scanned the contents. “Verra clever,” he said, wrinkling his forehead. “I see that perhaps ye’re wanted in Borrodale on the nineteenth of the month. That the prince has been housed with a friend of yours, though I dinna know the reference to a cage, and a French ship is coming to collect him?”
Fiona beamed down at him, then flopped forward, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. Brogan’s hands slipped around from her hips to her rear, and he pressed upward, wishing to be inside her.
She sat back up with a moan and a wiggle, taunting him. “Ye got it! The friend is Logan, Annie’s brother. And I think the cage might reference her uncle Cluny.”
“Fantastic.” He caressed her ribs and then blatantly put his hands on her breasts, massaging. “All this has made me…want ye.”
Fiona laughed and slapped him with the paper. “Ye wanted me before all this.”
“True.” Brogan flipped her over. He folded the paper and tucked it back down in her bodice, his fingers skimming her breasts. “Will ye let me?” He kissed his way down her body and hooked her knee over his shoulder, pressing his lips to her inner thigh.
“Oh, aye.” She smiled on a sigh, looking down at him, anticipation clear on her features. “Dinna make me wait another moment.”
“Never.”
Nineteen
Borrodale was bustling with activity, but thankfully none of it was red in color. In fact, their travels to the west coast of Scotland, and then their crossing over to Skye, had been surprisingly lacking in redcoats. Fear had Fiona wondering all the while if they would find that the lot of them had swarmed the small village in northwest Skye. But her fear appeared unfounded.
Likely, her friend Jenny was the culprit behind the lack of dragoons in the area. What sort of trouble was Jenny getting up to now to distract the enemy? For that could be the only way a path was cleared.
The fresh salt-sea air was crisp, and Fiona drew in a long, deep breath. She regarded the pier where a few fishing boats appeared dwarfed by a massive ship that flew no flags.
Merchants carried baskets and crates at a hurried rate toward the pier and, in single lines, climbed the gangplanks of what had to be a French vessel, putting as many supplies as they could onboard. Not that it was going to be much.
If the French ship had come to take away the prince, why had it not instead brought more troops to help keep the prince on Scottish soil? There had to be a plan. Perhaps they were going to float at sea for a while until reinforcements came.
Fiona and Brogan had ridden hard the last two days to arrive in time, considering the letter had only been discovered a few days before the nineteenth. Milla sat on her lap as though she were the director of their travel. Uncle Tam had understood their need for a departure and asked that she take several guards with her, but like usual, Fiona had declined.
It was a lot easier for her and Brogan to travel unnoticed without a guard coming with them. The only ones she felt safe to travel with were the six other warriors in Brogan’s company that she trusted, that knew their movements. They were a team and had a way of silently communicating that newer guards just wouldn’t have. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust newer men to learn, but they didn’t have the time, not when she was urgently needed.
“There’s Sorley,” Brogan said with a wide grin.
Everything would happen very quickly before the dragoons caught word of the French ship in port and sent their guns as had happened the last time.
What wasn’t certain, however, was how Fiona was going to play into the prince’s plans.
She and Brogan approached the dock, where the six men they’d parted with nearly a month ago stood sentry.
They dismounted, and Brogan launched into pounding his men on the back amid masculine hugs, while she nodded and smiled at them all. Happiness bubbled up in her chest, and it was taking everything she had not to burst with it.
“Come now, dinna be shy,” Fin said, grabbing her up in a hug. “We’re family, remember?”
“Aye, we are.” She wrapped her arms around her Irish brother and squeezed.
“How’s the ankle?” Sorley asked, pulling her into his embrace.