He nodded. ‘It’ll be easier in daylight, provided I keep a weather eye out for French patrols.’
‘I will send word when we have—when it is done, I promise.’
‘I believe you.’
He took the hand she offered him. In the dawn light, her eyes seemed more golden than brown. He wanted to kiss that nervously smiling mouth of hers. He wanted, quite fervently, to have her body pressed against his, her arms around his neck. He took a step towards her. For a moment he felt it, the tug of desire between them, that unmistakable feeling, like the twisting of a very sharp knife in his guts. It was because he wanted to kiss her so much that he stopped himself, bent over her hand, clicking his heels together, then let her go. ‘Adiós, Isabella. Good luck. Please be careful. Stay safe.’
‘Goodbye, Finlay. May God protect you and keep you from harm.’
She turned and slowly walked away, following the path of the stream as it meandered along the floor of the valley. Finlay watched her until she disappeared from sight behind a large outcrop of rock. Then he picked up his saddle, and within a few moments, just as the sun streaked the sky with pink-and-orange fingers, he, too, was on his way, heading in the opposite direction.