She did not want to be rescued. What she wanted, with a strength that squeezed the breath from her, was for Jamie to make love to her. Madness. She was filled with madness. She stood on the edge of ruin as it was, but to invite the final push off the cliff? “Who?” she asked angrily. “English.” Jamie shoved a hand through his hair. “He knows only that they are English and they’ve come for you.” Her parents? Of all days, of all moments, they came for her at this moment? She should be overwhelmed with gratitude, happy that she would at last be rescued from her captivity. But she was neither of those things. She was disappointed, recalcitrant, cross. She pressed her palm to her forehead as she tried to gather her thoughts. This is an omen, she tried to convince herself. An omen that she had gone too far, that she had to stop before she did something she would never recover from. She lifted her gaze to Jamie’s. His eyes were dark, his demeanor suddenly distant. He knew it, too.
