The Highlander's Thief

Chapter Twelve

Rosa was out of bounds. He knew that. He'd always known that.

It was precisely why he'd spent three days avoiding her. Their time apart should have cleared his head and flushed her out of his system. But his response to her had only intensified over that time and now he could hardly control his own body. He'd kissed her, dammit. Again.

What was wrong with him?

She was a thief. She was a liar. She was his prisoner. And he'd just broken every rule and kissed her.

He hunched over, pressing his forehead to the cool wood of his oak desk.

And now Cameron was telling him to sleep with her. Judging by the eager bulge pushing at his kilt, his body thought it was an excellent idea too. But McWilliam was more than just his body, and he was determined never to lose control like that again. Kissing Rosa had been the absolute worst-possible idea he'd ever had.

She'd practically murdered his father.

Nay, he admitted to himself, she'd hadn't stabbed Hearn or pushed him down the stairs, but stealing that money had caused his father's heart to fail and that was as good as if she'd wielded a blade with her bare hands.

Aye, there was no way she could have known about Hearn's weak heart. Nobody outside of the family had known. But that didn't mean she wasn't responsible. She was responsible, and for that reason alone he could never touch her again. Ever, dammit.

He stood up so fast his chair tumbled over. To hell with paperwork. He couldn't stay here. He needed a swim in a very, very cold loch.

* * *

Seated at the desk, Rosa pressed her eyes closed trying to picture the courtyard in her mind.

Without any paper, she couldn't draw a map and had instead decided her best option was to memorize the layout.

Yesterday, she'd taken note not only of the portcullis and its burley Scottish guard, but also the kitchen, which appeared to be the single-storey building right beside the southern tower house. And as far as she could tell, this, the northern tower house, was the families' own tower that they used as their main residence. The other three towers were still a mystery to her. One probably housed the staff and another maybe housed the guards. Either way, more investigation was needed before her escape attempt.

Rosa estimated it would take her four days on horseback to reach Leeds from here, three if she rode all day and all night without stopping. Three days minus the six days that had already past, left her only four. Four days to find the stables and steal some extra food and water. It was, as Bennie Cooke always wrote when describing an unsolved murder in the Gazette, 'a real god-forsaken conundrum'. But it was one Rosa was determined to solve.

Rosa turned towards the door as sound rattled down the hallway. She knew that sound—she'd heard it all too often during her two years as governess. Someone was being ill.

Without conscious thought, she crossed the room and pressed her ear to the door.

It squeezed open. Mrs Fenella had forgotten to lock her in.

From the hallway, it was evident the retching was coming from Rhona's room. She didn't sound at all well.

She didn't hesitate. "Can I help?" Rosa asked, entering the other woman's chamber.

A girl, nestled right between childhood and womanhood, stood beside a bed, a bucket at her feet.

"Get out." Rhona gasped.

Rosa didn't leave. "My lady, I could hear you from my chamber."

"My mathair's chamber, you mean," Rhona tossed her hair over her shoulder. Despite the whiteness of her cheeks, her eyes sparkled something beautiful. Rosa imagined she must be quite a handful. No wonder McWilliam had described her as having a mind of her own.