The Highlander's Thief

Chapter Seven

The exact point where England met Scotland was marked by the River Esk. They crossed sometime before the sun had reached the furthest western mountaintops. Back on the land of his ancestors, heather and thistles crunched underfoot.

They'd made good time, crossing from Bradford into Scotland in just under two nights and two days.

Rosa was hunched over, the hood of her mantle covering her neck and blocking her birthmark from view. In another life, the mantle had been rather fine with a small row of tiny pearl buttons fastening the garment around her shoulders. The washed-out pink suggested it had once been a vibrant red, and the black band that ran along the entirety of the hem while patched in places was obviously velvet. Like the clothes she wore underneath from Mistress Thomas, it was most definitely second-hand.

He'd have thought a thief such as herself wouldn't wear hand-me-downs. Five hundred pounds could buy a lot of brand-new, height-of-fashion gowns and cloaks.

Then again, what better disguise for a thief was there than the jacket of a governess. Clever.

* * *

"I'm hungry." Rosa's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten since last night and that was almost twenty-four hours ago. The sun had long since disappeared, and the last of its light had just now faded into darkness. Overhead, the stars were hidden by low-hanging cloud, and distant rumblings of thunder rolled over the hills and along the valleys. This time yesterday, she was eating dinner.

"We don't have any food," he said, pocketing the ring. "In case you've forgotten, I was forced to leave the saddlebags behind when you threw a tantrum."

So much for wearing the wedding band in exchange for food. She tugged it off her finger, tapping his shoulder until he opened his hand to take it back.

Hungry and grumpy. She crossed her arms, using her knees to keep steady in the saddle.

"It wasn't a tantrum. It was a calculated strategy to..." No lying. Right. "It wasn't a tantrum. It was a moment of panic."

"Because you finally realized there's no escaping justice."

"Because I suddenly realized I was alone with a strange Scotsman who could be planning to murder me."

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn round to look at her. "I'm not going to kill you."

"No, you just want to lock me away for the rest of my life. What's the going punishment in Scotland for stealing 3,000 pounds?" she asked.

He held up a hand, his head turned towards the right.

"Actually, don't answer that." She didn't want to know. Besides, he couldn't possibly keep refusing to believe she was guilty forever. "I didn't steal—"

"Shut it."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're not a magistrate. You have no right determine my—"

"Shut up!" He grabbed her knee, squeezing.

She jerked her leg to throw off his hold. "Don't touch—"

"Someone's coming."

She clamped her mouth shut. Who? Another Scot? Or an Englishman? Perhaps a highwayman! She'd read stories of people attacked on roads when they were traveling in the middle of nowhere. And right now, she and McWilliam were certainly in the middle of nowhere. If someone attacked them now, there'd be no soldiers or Runners or even a farmer to help.

This was getting ridiculous!

She glanced down at McWilliam's dagger hanging off his belt. Rosa wasn't going to let any old highwayman make life any harder for her. Amelia was depending on Rosa, and Rosa couldn't save her cousin if she was dead in a ditch.