The artificial scent itched his nose and made him want to put distance between them, but he remained, letting her pet him. Kára did not wear the cloying scents that Jean and her sisters wore. Nay. Kára smelled of wild, fresh wind and the slightest bit of flowers and spice from her soap.
Jean leaned up on her toes, pressing her unstayed breasts against him, and drew his mouth down to hers. “Who are ye meeting?” he asked before she could kiss him. He clasped her hands behind his head, pulling them around to rest between them.
“That is none of your concern,” she said tartly.
He caught her forearms as she pulled away. “Jean, lass, ye should guard well your person. Not every lad is as honorable as I, or as kind.”
She yanked her arm away. “Kind enough to leave me? You are not one to talk of honor and kindness.”
“I told ye I had to return to my brothers.”
“And yet you are back here? Why?” Her hands settled on the slender set of hips he had known quite well during his stay at the palace.
He could lie and tell her he came for one more kiss from her, that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, that he craved to bed her again. All lies. “I came to retrieve something.”
“Something you forgot?”
He didn’t answer her. “Jean, do not fall for the lies of rough men. Ye should guard yourself for someone who cares for your heart and mind, not just your body.”
With a wicked grin, she pulled the ribbon tied at her throat, letting the cape drop to the floor outside her room. She was naked underneath, except for tiny slippers. Fok. All he needed was for her father to step out into the hall and see this. Pulling her close, Joshua pushed her backward into her room, shutting them inside.
Her arms went immediately around his neck again, her painted lips sliding against his, and her hand slipped under his kilt to grab his jack. Was she shocked he wasn’t hard? Had she ever felt him so? Nay. But nothing about Jean Stuart enticed him now. “Jean,” he said against her mouth, and she trailed her lips down his neck as she stroked him, his jack blindly coming half to life.
His hand caught hers, pulling her out from under his kilt. “I cannot relax thinking some other man might come up here looking for ye,” he said as an excuse. “And…” He pulled her back from him to look into her heavily lidded eyes. “Jean, lass, I am leaving Orkney. I just came back to retrieve something.”
“Stay the night,” she whispered, giving him a saucy grin.
He exhaled, running a hand down the stubble on his jawline. “I know your father has ignored ye for much of your life, lass, but ye do not need to use your body to lure men to ye.” He touched her cheek. “Ye are clever and a good person when ye want to be. Find a clever, good man to love.”
Her face pinched tight as her round eyes squinted into a glare. “Says the man who spent night after night happily making love to this body.”
Ballocks. He certainly didn’t need to make her mad enough to wake the castle, not when the mission to extract Hilda must succeed to save Brenna and her bairn. He forced a casual smile and leaned in to kiss her gently. “Ye are very right, lass. Ye are clever, kind, and luscious.”
His words brought the smile back to her lips, and she tugged him toward her large bed. But he had no intention of falling into it. Not only had his desire for Robert’s daughter died, but he also felt sad for her and wouldn’t lead her into thinking he cared for her by tupping her again, even if he didn’t have a mission and a pale-haired angel of a lass waiting for him in the barn. He’d always been straightforward with the lasses he bedded. They knew he had never been loyal to only one woman before.
He broke the kiss as she tumbled back onto her velvet coverlet. “Lass, I need to find what I forgot, and I would send the man ye were to meet away.”
She pouted, pulling the blanket over her loins. “Very well. Send John away and come back up for the night. You can leave before my father wakes and tries to entice you to stay.”
“John Dishington?” The Brute?
She twirled a finger around her nipple. “He is as energetic as you.”
“Jean, he is dangerous.”
“So are you, my Horseman of War.”
Damn. The woman had no proper upbringing, not that he had, either. But there was no time to spend trying to convince her to be more selective in her choices. He had to find the healer.
“Stay here,” he said, and she stretched out like a cat in the sun. He exited into the hallway, grabbed up her abandoned cloak, and went directly to the nursery door. Stepping inside, he closed it behind him as silently as possible. An old woman rose into a sitting position on her small bed. Joshua laid his finger over his lips and came closer to her, his gaze drifting over the three sleeping children.
He leaned in to her and whispered near her ear, “Brenna’s bairn will not be born. Kára has sent me to take ye there to assist.”
Clinking broke the hush as Hilda lifted a chain that locked around her middle. It was short, the end tied through the center of an eight-inch rock. It would keep her from going anywhere out of the room without notice, but it was not linked to the wall. Trying to break her free of it would be loud and could split the edge of his short sword.
Carefully lifting the rock to carry so as not to yank the elderly woman, Joshua beckoned
