A Hint of Heather

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  Davina handed him the key.

  He lifted the old woman off her feet and swung her around the room. “You wonderful, wonderful woman. Where did you find it?”

  “Hannah had it.” Davina related the story of how Jessalyn had endured Oliver’s punishment in order to sneak the key around the puppy’s neck, how she had shoved the dog into the child’s arms and ordered Hannah to take it back where she had gotten it as she followed Neil through the mirror and back up the stairs toward the kitchen.

  A thought occurred to Neil as he reached the top stair. He turned around and went back to the Trysting Room. Davina followed. “Davina?”

  “Sir?”

  “What do you know of the laird who built the tunnels and the Laird’s Trysting Room so he could court his enemy’s daughter?” Neil asked. “Because the MacInnes said the other tunnel led onto his lands, that the daughter used it to reach the Trysting Room. Whose lands are they? Who was the enemy?”

  “The Sutherland.” She crossed herself at the mention of his name.

  “And a portion of his land lies to the south of us, closer to Fort Augustus?”

  “Aye.” Davina nodded her head. “Takin’ that road will cut an hour or so off the journey to Fort Augustus. But the Sutherland is a Government supporter and our mortal enemy. It’s death to any MacInnes caught on his land.”

  “He’s not my enemy,” Neil said. “I’m a British soldier, loyal to king and country.”

  “Yer wearin’ MacInnes trews.”

  Neil glanced down at his trousers. “I don’t have time to change. I’ll just have to take the chance.”

  “Ye’ll need a horse and I canna bring one down the stairs.”

  “Don’t worry,” Neil told her. “I know where I can borrow one.” Jessalyn had “borrowed” a horse from the Sutherland’s stables. That meant the hidden entrance to the tunnel couldn’t be too far from the stables. He leaned forward and kissed Davina on the cheek and guided her to the secret door. “I’ll bring her back to you,” he promised. “Safe and sound. Go now. I’ll lock up behind you.”

  Davina did as he asked and when she passed through the kitchen and entered the bailey once again, she lost no time in finding Ian MacCurran.

  “Go!” she ordered. “Find the Ancient Gentlemen and the Munro and tell them what’s happened.”

  Ian shook his head. “There’s no need,” he told her. “They’re already gatherin’.”

  “Where?”

  “They crossed over our border an hour ago. They should be here any time now.”

  “Find them,” Davina instructed. “And tell them to meet his lairdship on the dangerous route. He’ll be there waitin’.”

  Ian nodded and took off running.

  Neil locked the door of the Trysting Room behind him, then hurried down the tunnel. He unlocked the door on the left and stepped into the passageway that led to a cavern hidden in the hills separating the MacInnes’s land from the Sutherland’s. He was careful, once again, to lock the last door behind him before he placed the heavy silver chain around his neck. He didn’t bother with candles, he simply kept his right hand on the wall of the passageway until he reached the entrance to the cave. The wood and iron yett was covered by a dense thicket that had kept it hidden from view for over a hundred years. The lock was rusty, but it opened smoothly when he unlocked the door. He slipped through the opening, but this time, he left the outer door unlocked. The brush covered door and the cave within would offer him a safe hideaway should he be discovered. Neil pushed his way through the brush and raced down the hills, across the cattle path and onto Sutherland land.

  Neil glanced up at the position of the sun. A half an hour or so had passed since he crept into the Sutherland’s stable. To his surprise, the mount Jessalyn had taken was saddled and waiting. Neil didn’t worry about the possibility of a trap, he simply mounted the horse and rode out of the stables.

  He met the Sutherland as he rode onto the path. A tall, whipcord-lean man with snow-white hair, dark eyes and deep grooves on his forehead, the Sutherland blocked the path, forcing Neil to stop or to go around him. Neil stopped.

  “I’m William Sutherland,” the other man announced. “And you are the earl of Derrowford.”

  “I am,” Neil answered.

  “I admire your fine eye for horseflesh, but you’re wearing the clothing and the insignia of the MacInneses. I could have you put to death for trespassing on my land and for stealing my horse.” The Sutherland pulled a pistol from his belt.

  “You must pardon me if I have no time for pleasantries,” Neil said. “I’m in a hurry. You may put me to death for trespassing or for stealing your horse as you wish as long as you do it after I kill Major General Sir Charles Oliver for kidnapping my wife.” He nudged his horse and started around the Sutherland.

  “You may need this.” The Sutherland reversed the pistol and handed it to Neil butt end first. “Careful, lad, it’s loaded.”

  Neil accepted the firearm and stuck it in his belt. “Thank you.” He leaned forward in the saddle, urging his horse to move.

  “No, lad.” The Sutherland placed his hand on Neil’s reins. “This way. Follow me. It’s faster.” He turned his horse off the path toward an open field. “And the others are waiting.”

  Neil followed. “What others?”

  “Munro, Ross, Moray, Grant of Glen Craig, my clansmen and other gentlemen of your acquaintance.”

  Neil glanced across the field where a small army of two to three hundred Scotsmen waited. “I thought you were enemy to Clan MacInnes.”

  “I’m an ally to the marquess of Chisenden and all his kin.” The Sutherland smiled. “That includes Munro and Moray. Grant of Glen Craig is not kin, but he fancied Lady Jessalyn for himself and swore to protect her. Ross is my ally.” He glanced at Neil. “The man Sir Charles killed this morning was one of mine.”

  “The lieutenant?”

  “No, the lieutenant is English and he was only slightly wounded. As was Sorcha MacInnes.”

  Neil had been in such a hurry to reach Jessalyn that he had forgotten to ask after Sorcha and the lieutenant. “How did they come to be wounded?”

  “That cur, General Oliver, ordered his men to shoot anyone who moved. The lieutenant and Sorcha MacInnes tried to prevent the general from abducting the MacInnes. The soldiers shot them. The murdered man was a cart driver from Edinburgh and one of my cousins. General Oliver ran him through with a sword.” The Sutherland surveyed the assembly. “I can raise more men in a matter of minutes should you think it necessary, but I was wary of assembling too big of an army. I’ve no desire to be accused of rebelling against the king.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Neil told him. “I only want Oliver.”

  “What took ye so long?” Auld Tam demanded as Neil and the Sutherland rode up.

  “The MacInnes sought to protect me by locking me in the—” He glanced around, unwilling to give away MacInnes secrets. “By locking me up. It took some time to recover the key.”

  The Sutherland grinned. “You’re an architect, lad. You know all castles have secret rooms. That’s no secret.”

  “The secret is where they put them,” the Munro added.

  The Sutherland quickly introduced Neil to the clan chiefs. “The other gentlemen you know.”

  Neil nodded and shook hands with the men. “A state of war still exists between the Government in London and the supporters of the King Over the Water. Make no mistake. Our ride on Fort Augustus—on the commander of Fort Augustus—may well be seen as treason. I intend to get my wife and to punish the bastard who took her, but I cannot ask you to put your necks at risk. You have wives and families of your own.”

  “Aye, we do,” answered the laird of Clan Ross. “That’s why ye dinna have to ask.”

  “We ride to rescue one of our own,” Moray said. “The fact that she is the bride of our ally makes her rescue all the more important.”

  “If rescuing Jessalyn MacInnes from a cur who makes war on women is trea
son, I’ll gladly swing from the gallows!” came the shout from Grant of Glen Craig.

  Neil stared at the man. He was fifty if he was a day. Balding and pock-marked. And, Neil had already discovered, it was best to stay upwind of him whenever he opened his mouth to speak.

  “My sentiments, exactly, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “Now, on to Fort Augustus to get her!”

  “He’ll kill you,” Jessalyn said. “But only if I fail to do it myself.”

  “He may try. But he won’t succeed. Besides, I’ve already won my battle with Neil Claremont. When he rides into Fort Augustus to come to your rescue, he’ll be committing an act of treason. And in front of General Wade.” Oliver ground his elbow into Jessalyn’s spine. He’d dragged her for the first couple of miles, then hauled her up and across his saddle like a sack of grain where he took great pleasure in torturing her. “That’s all I want. I want General Wade and the king to see Claremont for the turncoat he is. I want them to see him side with those Scottish savages. I want them to see him as I see him.”

  She bit her bottom lip until it bled, but she refused to cry out in pain.

  “None of this is coincidence,” Oliver continued. “He knew General Wade was coming to inspect the fort. He had to have known. That’s why he held up the stonemasons. Claremont’s failure to complete the wall on schedule and his disappearance, first to London and then to a squalid Scottish castle in the highlands so he could have you warm his bed, was all a ruse. He staged his own abduction and the delivery of the ransom as a way to divide the fort and to divert the men from their construction work. He wanted to make me seem incompetent and unable to command.”

  “Neil doesn’t have to make you seem incompetent or unable to command,” she snapped. “You do that all by yourself.”

  “Careful how you speak to me.” Oliver grabbed hold of her braid and yanked.

  “Any fool can open his mouth and issue commands,” Jessalyn sneered. “You’re good at that. You open your mouth and command people to obey you and when they do not, you punish them or you murder them. You envy Neil Claremont because he is something you can never be. He is a leader. Men follow him because they want to, not because they’re commanded to.”

  “Me? Envy Neil Claremont? I think not. You have it all wrong. He always envied me—hated me, really, since we were schoolboys because I was always more handsome than he.”

  As far as Jessalyn was concerned it was impossible for anyone to ever be more handsome than Neil Claremont and the fact that Spotty Oliver thought he was or ever had been was laughable. “Was that before or after you were named Spotty Oliver?”

  Oliver let go of her braid. Her head fell forward against the side of the horse. General Oliver shifted his weight in the saddle and bumped her jaw with his knee with as much force as he could muster. “Your mouth will be the ruination of you—especially when you use it to speak of things you cannot possibly understand.”

  “I understand that you could never be more handsome than Neil,” she said, “because your soul is too ugly and twisted.”

  “Claremont has found quite a champion in his little Scottish whore, hasn’t he? Where did he find you?” He grabbed hold of her braid once again and tugged at it until he forced her to turn her head to look at him.

  Jessalyn realized that even though he professed to be well-informed, Major General Sir Charles Oliver had no idea who she was. He believed she was Neil’s whore. “I found him,” she said. “Here at Fort Augustus.”

  “Impossible,” Oliver scoffed. “I’ve had every pretty whore at the fort. You weren’t one of them. I would have noticed.”

  “Really, General? You think you would have noticed me? You didn’t see the women who worked in the fort everyday. You were stupid and careless, General. And the men under your command knew it because you left your fort vulnerable to attack from within. Unlike you, Neil Claremont looks at the women in the camp and sees us for who we are, not what we are. When he looks at us, he doesn’t see highland savages or Scottish whores, he sees women with hearts and souls and brains. He tried to warn you about allowing us to come and go as we pleased, didn’t he? He tried to warn you that your precious fort was vulnerable but you disregarded his concerns.” Jessalyn had learned the details of the raid and Neil’s confinement from Magda and Flora who had learned of it from their husbands. “You left the wall unguarded so you could throw a celebration for all the men you were afraid preferred Major Claremont’s command to your own. You tried to bribe your men into being loyal to you because you were afraid of Neil Claremont’s influence.”

  Oliver was livid. “He buys whatever he wants! His commission in the army and the right to build Fort Augustus. Even the whores who mock me because of my face powder.”

  “And you hate him for it because you know in your heart, he could buy and sell you if he chose to do so.”

  “I am not for sale,” Oliver said. “The question is how much did it cost Claremont to purchase you?”

  “You’re the fashion connoisseur,” Jessalyn retorted. “You tell me. According to you, he gave me a king’s ransom in shoes.” She smiled when she said the words. “He gave me shoes because I had none. He didn’t purchase my body. He didn’t have to. I’ll gladly give him anything he wants.”

  “I find it amusing to know that he’ll be brought down by shoes. He who cares nothing for fashion was rooted out because he was stupid enough to purchase three hundred pairs of shoes at one time. All I had to do to find him was follow the shoes—right to your door.”

  “And it seems that you even managed to bungle that,” Jessalyn reminded him. “You haven’t found him—yet.”

  “Now, I don’t have to. He’ll find me because I have you,” Oliver gloated. “And after I’ve defeated him, I’ll allow him to live just long enough for him to watch me have my way with you. And then, he’ll hang. Slowly and painfully. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I.”

  Jessalyn ignored his threat to rape her. “I’ll enjoy watching you face General Wade,” she said. “After you lied and told him the wall was complete. What do you think he’ll say when he comes to inspect the fort and finds that four-foot gap?”

  Oliver called out to the sentry, ordering him to open the gate as they reached Fort Augustus.

  “I see you’ve posted a sentry since the last time we were here. What? No party tonight in honor of General Wade?” Jessalyn taunted. “Why not? Haven’t you completed the wall yet?”

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “Your incompetence,” Jessalyn told him. “Neil Claremont didn’t desert his post. He was abducted. Sergeant Marsden and Corporal Stanhope were taken with him—by force. But you were too consumed with jealousy and hatred to realize that. You’ve hounded three loyal soldiers, killed an innocent man, ordered your troops to fire on unarmed women and children, and abducted a member of a highland clan with loyal ties to King George. I’d say you’re going to get what you want and what you deserve. I’d say you’re going to make quite an impression on General Wade.”

  “You bitch!” He shoved her off the horse. She hit the ground with a thud that knocked the breath out of her. He didn’t wait for her to get to her feet, he simply dragged her across the compound. “Your dilemma is that you’ll never quite know whether he came because he cares for you or because he hates me,” he remarked as he reined his horse to a stop before dismounting.

  “There’s no dilemma,” she said. “When Neil Claremont comes for me it will be because he cares for me and because he hates you. And I won’t mind knowing that because I also know that after you receive your just rewards, Neil Claremont will never give you another thought.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Open the gate!” Neil demanded. “By order of Major Neil Claremont of His Majesty’s Royal Engineers.”

  “I cannot, sir,” the sentry called back.

  “Is that you, Private Miller?” Neil asked. “You know me. I built Fort Augustus stone by stone and I will bloody well take it down the sa
me way—starting with the man in the gatehouse. Now, open this bloody gate because I won’t ask again.”

  Neil waited for what seemed like a century until the creaks and groans of the massive wooden gates told him that Private Miller was opening them. Neil rode through at the head of his Scottish force, accompanied by the Ancient Gentlemen of Clan MacInnes, and the earls of Sutherland and Ross. He was followed by the Munro, Moray, and Grant of Glen Craig, their men, and several others who had joined the party on the journey to Fort Augustus.

  He scanned the parade ground as he entered the fort and discovered the MacInnes chained to the ring of the hitching post in front of the general’s quarters. One end of a pair of iron shackles was fastened to the hitching post and the other end was fastened around her ankle. She stood with all of her slight weight on the other leg and Neil could see that her ivory silk stockings were shredded beyond repair and the shackled ankle was badly swollen.

  He smiled. If Spotty Oliver had been expecting a poor downtrodden highland laird, he’d been disappointed. The MacInnes had dressed in the manner befitting a highland laird and the countess of Derrowford in the dark blue dress that matched the pair of dark blue shoes decorated with sapphire-studded gold buckles he had placed on her pillow on the second morning following the caravan’s arrival. The bodice of her gown was dirty and stained with blood. It was slashed in several places and Neil could see the dark brown lines and tears marring the front of her chemise. What was left of a white lace collar and a length of MacInnes plaid that had decorated her skirt remained. The plaid had been sliced—as if by a sword—but the clan brooch that pinned it to her shoulder held fast. She wore her hair in a braid that was nearly long enough to reach the ground. Bits of bracken and twigs were embedded among the plaits and several sections of hair had pulled free. Her face was dirty and scraped in a half a dozen places and she had bitten her bottom lip. She looked a mess, but she was alive. And as far as Neil was concerned, she had never looked more beautiful. “I have come for Lady Jessalyn Helen Rose MacInnes, Laird of Clan MacInnes.” He nodded to Tam who drew his axe and handed it to him.