by Eliza Knight
Jenny stilled at the door, her hand on the knob, her back to him. “I need to round up a few dozen men. I plan to return to Inverness. I was going to ask ye to take a message to Dirk for me.”
The cot behind her creaked as he sat up, but still she didn’t turn around.
“Ye’re going home? And ye were going to leave me here?”
She shook her head. She needed to hold it together for another hour, and then she’d be well on her way. “I need ye to find Dirk. Tell him I’ve gone to Cnàmhan Broch. I need to protect my people from Hamish before a storm traps me here. He’s already got a head start. Tell Dirk he is to fight in my stead beside the prince until I return. Then if ye wish, ye can join me upon the road. I will come back when my brother has been dealt with.”
The roads were likely already covered with ice from yesterday’s freezing storm. Another bout would lock them here.
“Jenny.” His voice was soft, and the cot creaked again, the floor thumping as he stood.
She wrenched open the door, not wanting to be trapped as she certainly would be if she didn’t force herself over the threshold.
“Why are ye running?”
“My brother. His own man said he was going to reclaim what I stole. Just this morning I heard troops discussing a regiment of dragoons heading east. It is Hamish, I feel it in my bones.”
“Nay, lass, ye misunderstand me. Why are ye running from me?”
She hadn’t misunderstood though. “I canna let what happened between us cloud my judgment or stall me from my duties.”
“Do ye regret what happened between us?”
Such a direct question, she wasn’t certain how to handle it. She did turn then, thinking he at least deserved that much. Meeting his gaze, she said, “I regret nothing. But neither can I lay aside the vows I made to my people.”
“I’m not asking ye to.”
“Good. Then ye’ll understand and support my need to return to Inverness.”
Confusion flashed over his features, bewilderment he didn’t try to hide from her. “I did no’ bed ye last night for the fun of it, Jenny.”
That was what she was afraid of.
“That’s no’ to say I didna have a hell of a lot of fun,” he added.
“Dinna say any more, Fraser.”
Hurt twisted his features at her formal use of his name. She’d wounded him. And she’d have to live with that. One man’s pain versus the pain of hundreds if she didn’t get back to Inverness.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish it didna have to be this way. I wish we were no’ at war and that our prince was even now sitting upon the throne. But he is no’. And with our victory yesterday, we canna afford to hesitate, even for a minute. I canna allow my brother to torment my people.”
Toran frowned, but he didn’t disagree with her. She could practically read his thoughts, and she found it incredibly disturbing how well she now knew him—and how very much disappointing him hurt her heart.
He cleared his throat, and she had the feeling he was working to clear himself from her. “I will deliver your message to Dirk.”
“Thank ye, Toran.”
He stalked forward, and though her mind bid her to retreat, her feet did not move an inch. Toran reached her, filling her space. He clasped her face in his hands, his eyes locked on hers.
“I know ye want me to keep my mouth shut, to follow orders like a good soldier, but damn it, Jenny! I canna let ye leave without telling ye how I feel. I love ye, lass. And because of that, I’ll do as ye’ve asked. But know this—I’ll no’ be far behind because I can see in your eyes ye feel the same way.”
Jenny opened her mouth to protest, but no words would come out. Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked herself against him. At last her throat seemed to loosen enough for her to demand huskily, “Kiss me goodbye.”
“Only because I plan to kiss ye hello soon.” And then his lips were on hers, making her body sing. Making her want to drag him back to the cot and strip them both down to their skin.
He loved her. Loved her! And he was right… She loved him too, though she was too much of a coward in that moment to admit it. She felt as though if she let the words slip out, she wouldn’t leave this chamber—wouldn’t leave Dunipace. She’d follow him anywhere, and that would be the very worst thing to do right now.
Jenny pushed away, albeit gently. “My duty is to clan and country first above all else, Toran, and I thank ye for honoring that.”
He nodded, stroked her cheek, and then took a few steps backward, every inch that separated them a painful stab to her chest. She could barely look at him, fearing the tears that threatened.
“I will follow wherever ye lead, Jenny Mackintosh.”
Jenny turned and fled the room before the rest of her resolve evaporated.
Twenty-Four
“She went home?” Dirk looked astounded to hear that Jenny had left for Inverness without telling him.
“Aye. She had a sense that her brother was headed there to take back his holding since she has been otherwise engaged.”
“Damn.” Dirk looked toward the exit of the tent, and the shift in his stance showed his eagerness to follow, the same urgency that Toran also felt. “Why did she send ye here to deliver the message like ye were nothing more than a…messenger?”
“I believe because she knew ye’d trust me.” He left off the part where he was also sure it was because she wanted to put some distance between them. That he’d made love to her all night and that he’d had to bury his shirt in among the anonymous stacks for the laundresses to hide the evidence after using most of it to clean the both of them up. “I dinna intend to stay here, Dirk. I need to be honest with ye about that. I’m going after her.”
“Good, I was going to suggest just that. One of us has to stay and explain things, else the prince will wonder why a large number of soldiers have just up and disappeared. And one of us has to go to her. She canna face Hamish on her own. The bastard will try to crush her, and she will fight with every last breath in her body to see that he doesna win.”
“Aye, I agree. She’ll be glad to know that one of us is staying here with the prince. I think ’twas a difficult decision for her.”
“She’s got heart, she does. Blasted brother of hers is a traitor to all of us.” Dirk scrubbed a hand over his face. “Take good care of her.”
“I will, I vow it. I will die before she does, I can promise ye that.”
“And wait to exchange vows until I get home, will ye?”
Toran grinned. “I’m no’ certain she’ll have me, though I’ll try my damnedest.”
Dirk rolled his eyes. “She’ll have ye. The two of ye are the most stubborn people I’ve ever known. Perfect for each other.”
“I thank ye for the support, truly. I admire ye, and I know ye care for her greatly.”
“She is like a sister to me.”
“I know she feels that ye’re a brother to her.”
Dirk clapped him on the back. “I’ll no’ welcome ye to the family just yet, dinna want to curse it. But ’tis something I look forward to.”
“The same for me, man.” Toran gripped Dirk by the arm. “I’m honored to have gained your trust.”
“Aye, but it is Jenny’s trust that matters most.”
“I will spend the rest of my life making sure I never do anything to break it.” Mo chreach, would he ever. He’d rather skewer himself on a pike than break her heart.
“Good, else ye’ll have me to contend with.”
Not wanting to waste any more time than he already had, Toran left the camp to find Archie. His cousin sat among several men, all with minor injuries.
“I’m headed back to Inverness.”
“What?” Archie wrinkled his brow.
“The lass may have an impending battle on her hands at Cnàmhan Bro
ch.”
Archie stood. “I’ll go with ye.”
“Ye dinna have to. Stay here with Dirk, fight for our prince.”
“I canna let ye go off on your own.” Archie passed him an incredulous look.
“I’ll not be alone. I’ll catch up to the lass and her men upon the road.”
Archie looked ready to argue more, but Toran pressed a hand to his shoulder. “All will be well, Cousin. I’ll see ye when the English have been vanquished or the prince relieves ye for a bit of respite.”
His cousin pulled him into his arms, hugging him for perhaps the first time ever in their lives.
“Ye’re a good man,” Archie said. “Thank ye for saving my life.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I hope to never have to return the favor, as I want ye to live a long and healthy life. But if it ever comes to it, then I’ll repay it gladly.”
“Ye already did, when ye didna give me away to the dragoons at the garrison and again when ye didna toss me through the door to Boyd at the croft.”
Archie smirked. “I suppose ye’re right, we are even.”
“Spill some more Sassenach blood for me,” Toran said. “I fear the Scots blood I’m about to let.”
Archie nodded sorrowfully. “The poor lass.”
Toran clasped his cousin to him one more time and then took off at a brisk pace, hoping to catch Jenny before too long.
But catching up to her seemed an easier feat in the mind than in the actual making. Toran spent much of the day avoiding the dragoons who seemed to be out in droves, more vigilant after the loss at Falkirk than any other time thus far.
Ballocks, but he hoped that didn’t mean that the reason he’d not found Jenny yet was because she’d already been captured or, worse, killed.
* * *
If she never saw another red coat, or anything scarlet in nature, Jenny would consider herself a lucky woman. She and her men had been forced to split into three groups to keep the bastards off their tail, but even that wasn’t enough. She spent the tense ride worrying nonstop about whether one of their other parties had been caught.
And that was nothing on her thoughts of Toran. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her, kissed her, and she’d just left him there assuming that she’d see him again. What if she didn’t? What if he decided to stay with Dirk? What if staying with Dirk got him killed?
Her chest tightened at the thought, and bile burned the back of her throat. Part of her wished she’d have stayed. The other part knew she could not leave her mother alone, that she could not allow her brother to reclaim Mackintosh lands.
Damn ye, Hamish!
Of course, that was when the first part of her doubts questioned her instinct. What if Hamish hadn’t been at the battle at Falkirk for different reasons entirely? What if he was in London? There was a possibility. But her gut refused to believe it. Instinct bid her to know deep down that her brother was marching on Cnàmhan Broch.
Hamish was a coward. He’d not want to face her head-on. She knew that. He was the sort who would have lain in wait and pounced on their holding the moment she was gone. Saints, but she prayed she wasn’t too late.
“All clear,” Jenny said, when the last of the dragoons they’d been hiding from had not shown their faces for at least a quarter of an hour.
She led her men back onto the road, but at a slower pace so as to hear better. The sun was starting to set, and soon they’d be riding in the dark. They needed to stop and hide for the night.
The sound of an approaching rider had them all scrambling off the road, hearts pounding, as they worked to silence their horses.
Bloody hell!
She kept her eye on the road in the waning light, waiting for the dragoon to pass, but no flash of red assaulted her eyes. Instead, the man wore a plaid, frock coat, and kilt. And she’d know that hard frame anywhere. Toran.
Jenny leapt out into the middle of the road, her pistol drawn.
“Dinna move,” she said, repeating what she’d said to him the very first time they met. “Else I put a bullet through your heart.”
Even in the waning light, she could see recognition dawn on Toran’s face along with his slow grin. “What’s to say I willna put a bullet in yours first?”
Jenny tossed her head, smiled at him, her eyes full of teasing. “Ye’re outnumbered, sir. Let’s say ye did pull your weapon afore I took my shot, ’twould be wasted, for there’d be five more cutting through ye before ye were able to see the result.” They could be set upon by dragoons at any moment, true, but this moment of connection was important.
Toran worked to hide his grin, ice-blue eyes boring into hers and making her body sing with the need to leap upon him. “Then I’ll keep my weapon where it is and trust ye no’ to end my life.”
Jenny took several steps forward. “Glad to have ye back with us. Ye nearly scared us to death, soldier. Why are ye alone?” She peered around his horse, making out the shadows around them as trees, boulders, and .
“By choice, Mistress J. The rest of the men are with Dirk.”
Jenny nodded, meeting his gaze once more, afraid to ask the question but needing to know the answer. “How many did we lose in battle?”
“Two. Robert Finley and Daniel Mackintosh.”
A lance of grief hit her heart, and she bowed her head for a moment of silence. “They fought for their prince.”
“Aye, and for ye. They died heroes.”
Jenny swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Wounded?”
“A few dozen. Some more seriously than others.”
Jenny nodded and again forced her tongue to form words. “And Dirk?”
“He is well. A few scrapes, took a bayonet to the shoulder, but he’s been sewn up and is walking around, prepared to lead the men in your stead.”
“Did he…” She bit her lip, eyes lowering before she could bring them back up again. She was asking this part more for him than for Dirk. “Did he understand why?”
“Aye,” Toran said softly. “He is with ye all the way.”
That was a relief. She itched to reach for him, to have him pull her up onto his horse and melt against him. To feel safe in his arms. But all of that was a fantasy, when reality was that they were on contested land in the middle of a war with an enemy known for its brutality.
“We need to make camp for the night. Have ye seen many dragoons?” she asked, ignoring the exhaustion and weariness that seeped into her bones.
“Too many.”
It was not the answer she wanted but the one she’d expected. “’Haps we ought to ride on, then. We have already split into three groups to avoid any attention three dozen of us might gain.”
“Smart. The bastards are looking for any reason to put their shot into us. We should try to get a few more leagues in, just to be safe.”
“Aye.” Jenny remounted her horse, and they rode side by side, the dozen men behind her quiet and on high alert.
The pelting icy rain started again, making the roadways slick and dangerous for the horses and skewing their senses, forcing them all to find shelter among the trees. The only good thing about it was that it would force the dragoons to stop their patrols too.
Wrapped in plaids, they crowded together, unable to make a fire which would signal their presence. They kept warm with whisky, plaids, and huddled body heat. The horses did much the same, covered in wool blankets to keep them warm. Jenny managed a few hours of sleep, jolting awake every half hour or so with the image of Hamish rushing at her and thrusting his blade into her chest.
Just before dawn they all gave up on trying to sleep and left their makeshift camp, bodies aching. They rode slowly throughout the day, shivering and cramped, until they came to a village near Perth that Jenny knew to be Jacobite sympathizers. They were able to house their horses in several barns th
at night, getting them warmed up, brushed down, and fattened with sweet oats. The men were also able to sleep out of the weather on piles of straw, with warm bread and stew from the crofter’s wife. Jenny prayed the rest of her men were faring well.
In the morning, they were off again. The icy rain had ceased, and they were able to pick up their pace, but snow had begun to fall in thick clumps by the time they reached the Cairngorm mountains, slowing them down once more. Her limbs were mostly numb from cold, and she’d long since lost any sense of appetite.
Once more they found a crofter who was willing to take them in for the night. When they woke the next morning, a thick snow blanketed the earth, but at least they’d had a chance to thaw their bones. They wrapped their horses’ forelegs in woolen strips for warmth and protection from the snow and then picked their way slowly along the thick snow-covered road.
Jenny had lost track of the hours and days, and the men were so exhausted none of them spoke. She’d had barely a moment to think about how grateful she was that Toran had come to join her. And every time she looked at him, she remembered their moments in Dunipace Castle. Heard his whispered words of love, saw the affection in his eyes, felt his kisses on her lips. How she longed to fall into his arms again. How she wanted to go back to that tiny room and the small cot made smaller by the bulk of his body.
That night they slept in an abandoned croft, with only half a roof and half the house filled with snow. Jenny leaned against him, accepting some of his body heat.
“Are ye all right?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. None of the men around them stirred, and she was grateful for his discretion.
“I will be when we get back to Cnàmhan Broch.”
“Ye’re freezing.”
There was no use denying it. No matter how much she clenched her jaw, her teeth still chattered. He took her hands in his, warming fingers that felt numb. Then he slowly tugged off her boots, pulled off her hose, and did the same to her toes. The heat of his touch sent stabs of pain through her frozen digits, but she closed her eyes and forced herself not to wince. She needed this, else she might lose a few toes and fingers.