The Laird's Forbidden Lady by Ann Lethbridge

grudging.
    ‘You are a fool, Ian Gilvry,’ she said scornfully. ‘All that danger for brandy.’
    Stung, he glared at her. ‘The brandy pays for other things.’
    She gazed at him blankly.
    He shrugged. What would a privileged lass like her know or care about the hardships hispeople faced? All her father cared about was the hunting and the grouse. ‘As soon as your clothes are dry I’ll get you home.’
    Her gaze wandered to his horse. ‘I have never seen a horse swim that way.’
    ‘I lost a horse in a river once. He went in at a ford and got confused. I swore I would never lose another horse to the water.’
    She rested her chin on her knees. ‘I can see why. They become like friends …’ She hesitated. ‘Your mother gave me permission to ride him.’
    ‘Did she know who you were?’ He sat down beside her on the blanket. The fire’s warmth was painful to his icy skin.
    ‘Yes.’
    That did surprise him. His mother had always been opposed to everything English—it was a point of honour. If she ever learned Ian had sent Drew off to America at the behest of Albright’s daughter, she would never forgive him.
    He’d done it for the memories of a short time when he’d felt happy and carefree, when he’d forgotten his duties and responsibilities. Very selfish reasons wrapped around youthful dreams and wishes. Reality in the shape of his brothers’ shock at seeing them together had brought him back to earth, but he’d never stopped feeling guilty for the hurt look on her face at his rejection and cruel words spoken in parting. That guilt had sent Drew to his death. He would notlet her influence him against his family again. But she had made up for it in part, at least, with tonight’s warning.
    ‘Thank you for coming tonight. Without your warning we would have been caught. I wish you had not come down to the beach, though. I would have handled it.’
    She sighed. ‘I thought the Revenue men would follow the goods and we could ride up the path on the other side.’
    He was surprised by the resignation in her voice. ‘How did you know of their plans?’
    ‘Through my father. I should have sought you out earlier in the day.’ She sighed. ‘I was almost too late.’ She shook her head. ‘Why risk lives for a few tuns of brandy? How will the women and children survive without their men?’
    She was lecturing him? After all her father had done to destroy their way of life? ‘They can’t live on fresh air.’
    ‘Well, they can’t live on brandy.’
    ‘You are a Sassenach. What do you know about what my people need?’
    She flinched and he felt like a brute. His rough direct ways did not suit a drawing-room miss. Not that she’d seemed much like a lady riding bareback to his rescue.
    ‘It brings money to purchase what they can live on,’ he explained. More than that, though—it was an investment in the future.
    After a few moments’ silence, she turned to face him. ‘Do you think we were recognised?’
    He shook his head. ‘They were too far away.’
    She breathed a sigh of relief. That small little breath, that mark of gladness, sparked warmth in his chest. Foolish warmth. She was the daughter of his clan’s worst enemy. He’d do well to keep that in mind.
    But she had risked a great deal tonight and he would not have her suffering for it. ‘The sooner we get you back to the keep, the better,’ he said, ‘before you are missed. Hold up your clothes to the fire so they will dry.’
    She did as he bid and they both sat toasting her clothes, watching the steam rise from them to mingle with the smoke from the fire.
    ‘Why do your people try to turn back the clocks? Bonnie Prince Charlie is never returning.’
    She understood nothing. ‘My people were here long before the English. Yes, they need to move with the times, but not give up who they are, their traditions or their homeland. All the great landowners are turning their land over to sheep. Or using it for sport. They are leaving nothing for