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“Look at me,” he said. “I want ye to look at me as ye find yer release.”

Because he’d be looking at her, too.

She opened her eyes, dark blue and shining in the night, reflecting the light of the fire.

He sped up, feeling her depths quivering, and she tensed, her mouth opening, gasping.

“Oh, Craig!” she moaned. “Oh, Craig.”

And then, she tumbled over the edge, her body pulsing in waves under him, her fingers digging in, holding on. He was lost, too. With one final plunge, he reached his own release, bursting, shaking, lost in her eyes, seeing the depths of her soul.

He collapsed on top of her, heavy and hot. Tremors were still coursing through her body and they breathed together.

She turned and let him lie on his side, pressing into him with her back and her delicious behind.

“I love ye, lass,” he whispered into her hair, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her closer.

She whispered, “I love you, too.”

He smiled and sighed, releasing any remnants of worry and suspicion. Because really, he had nothing to worry about with her.

But as he was drifting into sleep, mayhap, he thought she said, “And I’m sorry.”

But he’d probably dreamed it.

Chapter 28

The next day…

The farm was quiet this early. The main house, the shed, and the stables were plunged into fog as thick as whipped cream. Hamish inhaled the humid air and kept it in his lungs, enjoying the feeling of expansion in his chest.

He could use a good cup of uisge today.

He’d almost won. This heavy, humid air, rich with the aroma of rotting leaves and manure, was the scent of freedom.

Hamish had all the information he needed to send the message.

He walked to the house and knocked on the door. Inside, feet rustled against the floor, and Amhladh, the farmer, opened the door. He frowned as he saw Hamish.

“I need the birds,” Hamish said.

Amhladh’s lower jaw went to the left and to the right as if he didn’t have any teeth left.

His eyes shone as he looked Hamish up and down. “I need another shilling for that.”

What Hamish hated was greed. It was why his foster parents had worked Fiona to death. It was what moved powerful men like John MacDougall to hire people like Hamish to kill their enemies.

Fast as a lightning strike, Hamish retrieved his dagger from his belt and pointed it at Amhladh’s throat. The man’s eyes widened in fear.

“I have paid ye enough for yer trouble,” Hamish said. “I wilna be manipulated or blackmailed. Take me to the birds. Now.”

“Aye.” Amhladh stepped out and closed the door behind him. With a sheepish look, he led Hamish to the cowshed. Inside, the cage with half a dozen pigeons stood in the corner. The scent of cow manure and bird shite hung heavily in the air. Hamish walked to the cage and took one pigeon out.

He looked at Amhladh. “Ye can go.”

The man nodded and walked out with relief on his face.

Hamish waited until he heard the door of the big house closing and left the shed as well. The farm was on the outskirts of the village, where the woods started. He walked into the woods and stopped when he thought he was far enough away.