Page 50 of Keeping Kate

“Who knows what will happen here in the dark, with you.”

“Can you accept my apology and let this go?” he asked irritably. “We have to lie like this. The chain is short. And you are a prisoner of the crown, in case you have forgotten.”

“You forgot it, apparently,” she said, but the bite in it was not sharp.

“I will never forget it, lass,” he murmured. “Besides, you are a valuable prisoner. I am keeping my eye on you.”

“Valuable to whom?”

“To me,” he whispered. “I cannot lose you.” His words filled in the space between them, took on more power than he meant. What he needed to lose, he thought, was this blasted, inexplicable, undeniable yearning for this girl.

“I need to be free,” she whispered. “I do not want to be hurt. Only that, Alec.”

Her use of his name cut through to his heart. “I understand. I could give you some freedom—in exchange for a little information.”

She paused. “You might free me?”

He shrugged one shoulder.

“If I have no guarantee, why would I tell you anything?”

“Because,” he said, “I am your best chance.”

“But you are following orders.”

“If I obeyed all my orders, you would be in Grant’s keeping now, not mine.”

“But you had orders to take me out of Fort William.”

“General Wade gave me custody over you, but the way I took you out of there was not exactly in the plan. I stole you away.”

She shifted up to an elbow. The mattress bounded. “Because of Colonel Grant?”

“In part.”

“Then I must thank you for that. Are you in a kettle of trouble for it?”

“Probably. It is not important.”

“Could they imprison you for it?”

He regarded her through half-closed eyes. He could not tell her all that he knew, and besides, she distracted him mightily. “Possible, aye.”

“Whatever I might know,” she said carefully, “could be used against my kinsmen. The government would go after my family and others as well.”

“Then you would have to trust me to be discreet,” he murmured.

“You would be obligated to tell your superiors what I say.”

If she told him something useful, he might be able to let her go and look the other way. But the thought of losing her now sent a deep twinge through him—not unsatisfied passion, but regret, even fear. “I know how to keep a secret. I am no tin soldier, my wee friend.” He adjusted his arm under his head, watching her, the weight of the chain tugging between them.

“I thought you were one of the staid Frasers who always follows orders.”

“We staid ones are usually careful to think before we act.”

“You do too much thinking sometimes,Alasdhair mo charaid.”

Her soft Gaelic, said with affection, made his body throb. “Perhaps. Let me ask you something.”