Highland Heat 2 - All The King's Men by Chera Zade

All the King's Men

    My lover was asleep.  
    I’d waited for his breathing to lengthen, for his pulse to steady, and for the little flutter of his eyes to tell me he was dreaming. When I believed him to be in deep slumber, I watched him a moment more to be sure—and to try to make sense of this man to whom I’d so shamelessly given myself as a mistress.
    By light of day, Major James Anderson’s sparkling blue-eyes and expressive face could be strangely compelling. But asleep in the firelight? Why he looked somewhat ordinary. Even for a bloody Englishman…
    I never intended to become the mistress of any man, much less the kept woman of an English officer; I was a proud Scotswoman after all. But with two brothers and a sweetheart of Clan MacPherson, all of whom were pledged to rise up against the English in the Jacobite cause, I’d been caught up in a struggle beyond my intention or foresight.  
    This particular English officer whose bed I now shared was overseeing arrests being made throughout Scotland, and he’d come to Fort William to interrogate the prisoners. What he learned could send my loved ones to their graves—something I couldn’t allow if it was within my power to stop it. So I’d allowed him to seduce me. Allowed him to squire me about in front of his men, and share me with them as his harlot. Yes, I’d let him lure me into wicked acts of pleasure that were likely to send me straight to hell.  
    All so I could slip free of his arms in the quiet of night to get about the business of treason…
    I crossed the room on tip-toe to the chest the major kept at the foot of his bed. Kneeling close to the fireplace, I slowly ran my fingers over the wood to find the hidden latch that would open the secret compartment. I knew there must be one because I’d searched in all the obvious places already. And I found it so very gratifying when I heard the soft click, and a drawer slid open.  
    There it was. The little leather bound book in which my lover kept his notes. Now that I’d found it, what should I do? The safest action would be to read it, memorize whatever was written in it, and put it back. If I could do this quickly, and in the dim light of the fire, my lover might never know.  
    But the boldest action would be to burn it.  
    He’d discover it missing and suspect me at once. I’d likely be killed for it. On the other hand, perhaps it would repay the sins I’d committed in his bed if I sacrificed myself for the lives of others. Because there had been sin. And pleasure. More pleasure than I dared to think about. The major had taken my virginity atop a butcher block table with his men looking on, cheering the spectacle. A thing I ought to have hated, but which I took to like a whore. It was almost worse that he took me to his bed every night since, with a worshipfulness that made it feel like lovemaking . Even though I knew it could not be.
    I needed to redeem myself. Whether for whoring or starting to feel some strange attachment to an Englishman—I knew not which was worse. But my hands shaking with the gravity of what I was about to do, and I nearly dropped the little book.  
    Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I crept to the fireplace. There I paused a moment to pray. That was probably my mistake.  
    His voice came out of the dark, groggy, but aware. “You’re not seriously going to burn it, are you?”
    My heart jumped to my throat and lodged itself there. I was caught red-handed. There was no hiding what I had done. The important thing was to destroy whatever evidence my lover had gathered that might hurt the Jacobite cause…so I flung the book into the fire, damn the consequences!
    “Bloody hell,” the major said, sitting up in the bed as the pages smoked and curled atop the little pile of logs. But leather books burned slowly. To keep him from rescuing it from the flames, I was ready to grapple with him. I planted my feet firmly and blocked his way, waiting for him to rush to the