A Traitor's Touch. Helen Dickson

too, had been a Jacobite agent, and his scheming and conspiracies against King George had led him to the gallows, leaving his wife and Henrietta to carry the burden of that crime of treason. Nothing would ever lessen the deep bitterness she felt towards the Jacobites. It was a bitterness that burned inside her with an all-consuming intensity. Henrietta didn’t like talking about herself, especially not with strangers. Andrew Brody was a name remembered and still talked about by many.

      Simon’s curiosity increased. He arched a brow and peered at his companion, shrugging casually. ‘Just curious.’

      ‘You ask too many questions.’

      ‘It’s a habit of mine. You do have one, don’t you?’

      When Henry made no further comment Simon did not pursue it. But with this in mind he looked again at the lad and felt drawn to him. He sat erect, his small chin in his heart-shaped face raised, and Simon could see him putting up a valiant fight for control—a fight he won. Despite his ragged garb he looked incongruously like a proud young prince, his eyes sparkling like twin jewels. Simon’s granite features softened and his eyes warmed, as if he understood how humiliated the lad felt on being brought low by a situation that had obviously driven him from his home.

      ‘I ask your pardon, Henry. It was not my intention to intrude on your privacy. Being a private person myself, I respect it in others, so you can relax. You were serious when you said you were going to Scotland? To your uncle, I believe you said.’

      Henrietta nodded.

      ‘Where in Scotland does he live?’

      ‘Some miles from Inverness. It’s—quite inhospitable, I believe.’

      ‘I believe it is.’

      They fell silent when the landlady arrived at their table, skilfully balancing a huge tray on one hand. She placed the steaming plates of eggs and ham and wedges of warm bread and butter and freshly made succulent fruit tarts before them, telling them to enjoy their meal. Unable to override the demands of hunger before the landlady had retreated from their table, Henrietta began munching on the bread, savouring the delicious taste. Simon watched her in amusement until the object of his scrutiny became aware of his attention. Suddenly abashed, she slowed down. Simon laughed, then turned his interest to his own breakfast.

      Henrietta hadn’t eaten since dinner time the previous day and ate heartily at first, but once her hunger was satisfied, she ate slowly while her companion consumed his portions more leisurely, savouring each taste fully. She felt much better after the meal and, with warmth and nourishment having restored some measure of elasticity to muscles chilled and stiffened by hours on horseback, a gentle drowsiness crept over her and slowly her eyelids began to droop.

      When Simon had finished his meal, he wiped his mouth on a napkin and once more fixed his attention on the youth. His head had fallen forward and his eyes were closed. Clearly the long ride was beginning to take its toll. He frowned. The more they were together, the more curious he became about his young companion. He’d already decided that he was a young person of no ordinary cleverness and intelligence. He noted that he ate much too daintily for a street urchin and there was a refined quality to his speech and in his manner that did not tie in with his outward appearance. His breeches and shirt were of poor quality, the breeches having seen much service, and his hair and face were clearly in need of soap and water. Yet his boots and cloak were of good quality and he had also noted that his horse was no ordinary nag, but a valuable blood horse, clearly out of the stables of a gentleman.

      ‘What—or whom—are you running away from?’ he asked suddenly.

      All at once Henrietta’s eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start, wide awake on the instant. ‘Who said I was running away?’

      ‘You did—on the heath?’

      After a moment and lowering her eyes, Henrietta nodded. ‘I am obliged to go to Scotland.’

      ‘And it’s a matter of life or death, if I remember correctly.’ She nodded. ‘Like to tell me about it?’ he said, ignoring what he had said about intruding on her privacy.

      She shook her head. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’ If he were to find out her true identity she wouldn’t be able to deal with the repercussions, and after her unpleasant encounter with those youths, she realised she had a better chance of reaching Scotland with this man to protect her—if he could be persuaded to take her with him.

      ‘And your parents?’

      ‘A hint of tears brightened the light green eyes as she spoke. ‘Both my parents are dead.’

      Simon felt a pang of pity for the lad. ‘I’m sorry.’

      The sympathy in his voice made her study him. He had a warmth of manner which made her feel as if she had known him a long time, and she decided she liked him. ‘Don’t be. It was a long time ago.’

      ‘But you still miss them.’ She nodded. ‘Well, you’d best eat up if we’re to reach Scotland.’

      Henrietta’s eyes shot to his. ‘Are you saying that you’ll let me travel with you?’

      Simon’s mouth softened into a lazy smile. He amused him, this youth. Simon smiled at the confidence he displayed in front of him. It flowed out of him. As he met the green eyes he saw the eagerness there. ‘I’m thinking about it. But if you lag behind I won’t think twice about abandoning you. Is that clear?’

      At once, Henrietta felt her spirits revive. Now that he’d agreed to let her travel with him, hope and courage returned and she was able to fight with all her strength against the insidious counsels of despair. The prospect of being alone with him made her shudder, but, she reasoned, the protection of such a man while ever she was on the road would be invaluable. She refused to think this man might do her harm.

      ‘Thank you. I am grateful,’ she said, remembering her manners, unable to conceal her excitement. ‘I will not dawdle. I cannot afford to. I can ride as well as the next—man. I could even act as your squire—or whatever term you care to use—and do it well. I will not be a burden. But if you think you’ve got something to fear from a defenceless youth, well, sir, you’d just better not hire me. And how do you know I’m not a thief who will rob you blind when I get the chance?’

      Simon laughed aloud at the youth’s audacity. ‘Call it intuition. I like your spirit. I trust you, Henry.’ He’d already come to the conclusion that the lad was as blunt and honest a youth as he’d met in a long time—and twice as unkempt. He was also beginning to think Henry could be completely exasperating, yet there was something about him that was likeable, too.

      ‘I expect you’ll be suggesting wages next.’

      Her eyes brightened. ‘We could discuss it. How much will you pay me?’

      ‘Nothing. Meals all found along the way. Take it or leave it.’

      ‘I’ll take it—and I’ll pay for my own bed. I like my privacy and have a penchant for sleeping in my own room.’

      Simon’s lips quirked. ‘I don’t snore, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’

      ‘Never crossed my mind. As I said, I prefer my own room.’

      ‘That’s settled, then,’ Simon said, half-amused. ‘But you’d better be worth it. I can only hope you know what you’re in for. It’s only fair to warn you that it’s going to be a long haul to Scotland and many things could happen that you may not like. However,’ he said on a more serious note, ‘I find I must place one stricture on the pact.’

      Henrietta glanced at him obliquely. ‘And that is?’

      ‘That until we reach Scotland you will speak to no one of what you overheard on the heath.’

      ‘I thought I’d already given you my word on that.’

      He nodded. ‘I just wanted to make sure.’

      Henrietta nodded, drawn to him by his