Page 29 of Glasgow Rogue

Annie woke the next morning to bright sunshine streaming in the small window.

Niall still slept. After their meal last night, she had laid several of the blankets on the floor in front of the hearth and brought in a few logs to keep the fire going throughout the night.

It hadn’t taken much argument—for once—to get Niall bedded down with his wounded leg closest to the warmth of the hearth.

She pushed her own blanket aside to check on his fever. It wasn’t much of a reach, although she didn’t recall lying down quite so close to him. She must have rolled in her sleep. His skin felt warm, but not as hot as it had last night.

Niall opened his eyes at her touch. His expression was momentarily confused and then cleared. “How long have I been sleeping? Did we lose a day?”

“Nae,” Annie answered. “’Tis still early.”

He sat up, wincing when he moved his leg. “We need to be on our way.”

“I doona ken if ye should be riding. Can we nae stay here for another day until the wound has a chance to begin closing?” Annie asked. “We are hidden from view.”

Niall shook his head. “We are maybe fifteen miles from the city. And the smoke from the chimney can give us away. ’Tis too great a risk to stay.”

“What if your wound opens?”

“I’ll put a second binding on it. Once we get past Loch Lomond, we can look for a physician to stitch it.”

“But your fever is nae completely gone either,” Annie said.

“’Tis better for now. We need to take advantage of that.” Niall braced his hand on one of the chairs and pushed himself to his feet. The great plaid he’d wrapped himself in last night fell in surprisingly neat pleats down his hips and thighs. He arched an eyebrow as he saw Annie watching him.

She quickly turned away, busying herself with stacking the blankets. “There’s some cheese and cold oat mash left. I can reheat—”

“’Tis nae time for that. We will take it with us.” Niall eyed the jacket she’d slept in. “Ye need a shirt. I have an extra one in my saddlebag.”

“It will be too big,” Annie answered.

“Ye can just stuff the extra material inside your jacket,” Niall said. “’Twill round ye out so ye doona look like a girl.”

Annie frowned as she put the blankets back on the table. “Ye doona want me to look like a girl?”

“’Tis nae me. If there are search parties coming out, they will be looking—and asking—about a man and a woman travelling together. If ye look more like a boy, it will confuse them.”

He had a point. She was not as curvy as a lot of women, so stuffing her jacket could make her look like a pudgy boy, especially with keeping her hair completely under the cap. “Do ye think it will work?”

“It cannae hurt,” Niall answered. “Besides, the disguise will protect your reputation from harm if people think ye are a lad.”

Her reputation. Publicly, it was intact. How ironic that she had allowed herself to be ruined by a man who didn’t care and have Niall be concerned about preserving her reputation when he hadn’t attempted to ruin her at all. “I agree.”

He nodded and removed the shirt from the saddlebag and handed it to her. “I will go saddle the horses.”

“Ye should wait and let me help.”

He walked to the door and opened it. “’Tis my thigh that is wounded, nae my arms.”

“I dinnae mean ye were nae strong. I just doona want your leg to start bleeding again.”

“I will be careful.” Then he was gone.

Annie rolled her eyes. Why were men so sensitive about such things? She’d saddled her own horse many times. What she couldn’t do was stitch his wound if it opened. Stubborn Highlander.

She caught his scent as she shook out the shirt and held it up to her nose.

Slightly woodsy and a hint of spice clung to it.

The material was finely woven linen and felt soft against her skin.

Then she realized it was the dress shirt that he wore with his full tartan.

A part of his clan identity. She inhaled his scent again. Niall.

****

Niall sucked in a lungful of cool, crisp air.

He’d gotten out of the shack just in time before he did something stupid like wait for her to put his shirt on.

He could have held off on tending to the horses, could have stayed, could have closed his eyes while she took off the jacket.

He could have controlled his wayward thoughts.

He hoped. He’d managed quite well in doing so, these past weeks.

But that was when Annie Ferguson wore a dress.

Having her legs—not to mention a very comely arse—so well-defined in breeches was driving him to a fevered state that had nothing to do with his wound.

The first time he’d awakened last night he’d found Annie lying a few feet from him.

Even with a blanket covering her as she lay fully clothed, he’d had the oddest sensation of what it would feel like to wake up next to her in a nice, soft bed.

And without the clothes. Each time he awoke, he’d had to resist the urge to pull her close, put her head on his shoulder, and cradle her through the night.

But no woman, trustfully sleeping in peace and innocence, deserved to be taken advantage of.

He’d contented himself with moving as close as he could without physically touching her.

Niall winced as the cold air made the injury throb. Annie was right that the wound hadn’t closed. Hopefully, they could make it to Loch Lomond and a doctor before it began to fester.

By the time he got the horses saddled, a painfully slow process since he didn’t want to risk having the bleeding start again, Annie had repacked the saddlebags and was waiting for him.

He noticed she’d buttoned his shirt right to the collar that tucked under her chin and that the extra material scrunched under the jacket did obscure her feminine shape, which was a godsend to his unruly thoughts.

Her hair had been pushed into the cap as well.

Not a strand of red could be seen. Niall frowned.

“Your hair is nae red.”

“I put soot on what could be seen.” Annie shrugged. “I figured anyone looking for us would be sure to include I have red hair.”

“Smart lass.”

“I hope so. It feels filthy.”

Niall smiled. “Perhaps tonight ye can have a bath.”

“That would be heaven,” Annie replied.

“Then we had best get started. ’Tis a long day ahead.

” Niall helped her mount, then turned to his own horse.

He felt a tugging at the edges of the wound when he raised his foot to the stirrup, followed by a tearing as he added weight to his leg.

Niall clenched his jaw at the sharp pain, then moved the gelding to the left of Annie so she wouldn’t see the blood he felt trickling down.

Since he wanted to avoid being seen as much as possible, they stayed just inside the forest line that paralleled the main road north, but that also meant they needed to keep the horses to a walk most of the day.

They stopped several times to water and rest the animals and he had the chance to wash the blood off his leg before Annie saw it, but each time he remounted, he could feel the wound stretching.

Thankfully, Annie had packed the remains from last night’s meal, so they didn’t have to stop at a village to eat.

By the time they reached a coaching inn near Crianlarich, dusk had fallen. Niall was tired, but he knew Annie must be near exhaustion. They’d ridden a good twelve hours and she hadn’t spoken more than a few words the past five miles or so.

“We will stop here for the night,” he said.

“But ’tis nae village here nor doctor,” Annie said. “Ye need to have your leg tended to.”

“It will have to wait until morning,” Niall answered. “Darkness will have fallen before we reach Crianlarich. Highwaymen could be about and I’ll nae risk ye travelling.”

“Ye taught me to handle a dagger.”

“Only in self defense if ye have to. I’ll nae put ye in danger on the roads at night.”

“But—”

“Besides,” Niall interrupted, “I doona want to push the horses farther.”

Annie frowned and then nodded. “Ye are right about that. The animals are as tired as we are.”

“Aye. This will be as good a place to stop as any.”

“Do ye think it safe?” Annie asked, looking down the road that led to Glasgow.

“I doubt any searchers would come this far north,” Niall replied, “especially if they’ve been asking if we were seen and the answers have been nae. They will probably go east toward Edinburgh instead.”

“I hope ye are right,” Annie said. “In truth, I have been thinking about that hot bath for half the day.”

Niall nodded as they stopped the horses in front of the inn and he helped her down.

“It should nae be long before that wish is granted.” He hoisted the saddlebag over his shoulder and handed the horses’ reins to a stable boy, along with some coin for extra oats, and hoped Annie didn’t notice his limp as they went inside.

The innkeeper, a short, bald-headed man of middle age, looked up from the counter. He studied Niall’s tartan. “MacDonald, is it?” His gaze traveled to the sword hanging at Niall’s side and the knife sheathed on his sporran belt. “This be Campbell country. I doona want any trouble.”

“Neither do I,” Niall answered. “We are just passing through and need rooms for the night.”

“Only one room left.”

Niall heard Annie’s sharp intake of breath. Under any other circumstance, he would let her have the room, but she was supposed to be a lad. Giving her the room would seem strange to the innkeeper and Niall didn’t want to raise any suspicions. “We will take it.”

The older man arched a brow. “Plenty of room for your boy in the stables.”