The Highland Guardian

by Jarecki, Amy

  Her heart thumping in her chest, Audrey shook the missive. “I must leave for Brahan Castle at once. I’ve already lost a day. Reid is in grave danger of being attacked, and he’s received a pardon!”

  “I suspect a formal pardon has already arrived at Durham Gaol as well.”

  “A lot of good that will do to keep the dragoons from killing him. They’re already headed into the Highlands through the drovers’ glens.”

  Maddie tapped her fingers to her lips. “There might be a faster way. As long as the winds are in our favor.”

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s a wherry moored on the riverbank.”

  “A river flows up to the Highlands?”

  “Of course not, silly. But the Garry flows into the Tay, which flows into the Firth of Tay and out to the North Sea.”

  “We can sail to Brahan Castle?”

  “The wherry isn’t sturdy enough to battle the sea, but once we reach Perth, we shouldn’t have any difficulty finding a captain who’ll ferry us north.”

  “A captain who will do the bidding of two women?”

  Maddie winked and rubbed her fingers together as if she were rubbing a coin. “With the right incentive, your gender matters not, lass.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The breeze caressed Reid’s face as the outline of Brahan Castle came into view. Home was a welcome sight for weary eyes. Built by Reid’s great-grandfather at the turn of the seventeenth century, Brahan was more like Queen Anne’s Kensington Palace than like a medieval motte and bailey fortress. All the same, it was an enormous home that housed servants and an army of men, as well as served as seat of the Earls of Seaforth for a hundred years.

  Rain spat from the sky, but if anything, the weather made his home look all the more inviting. Fires would be burning in the hearths and smells of Highland cooking would waft from the kitchens. For the first time in months Reid would sleep in his enormous four-poster bed.

  Dunn rode out to meet them with Reid’s deerhound, Cluny, bounding in his wake.

  “What took you so bloody long?” As soon as Dunn reined his horse beside Reid, the big dog fell into step at his flank as if he’d never been away.

  Reid shifted his gaze to his ally. “Och, so you haven’t a care that I survived Fry’s mauling, you ungrateful flapdragon?”

  “You look well enough to me, and a damned mite better than the last time I saw you.” Dunn glanced back to the line of Argyll soldiers and gave a nod of welcome to the marquis. “Where’s the lass?”

  “At Blair Castle with Lady Tullibardine.”

  “Rid of her at last are you? Thank God.”

  Reid’s hackles prickled on the back of his neck. “Miss Kennet is still my responsibility.”

  “Aye? And so is Mairi MacKenzie, if you’ve forgotten.”

  His jaw twitched at her name. God’s teeth, he’d been home for all of two minutes and the first thing out of Dunn’s mouth was to pester him about Mairi. His gut churned like a millstone. No one needed to remind him about the promise his father had made eighteen years past when the lass was a bairn in her mother’s arms—a promise Reid needed to rescind in due course without causing a feud that might tear apart the MacKenzie dynasty. But that didn’t allay the fact that the last person Reid wanted to think about at the moment was his distant cousin, or her overbearing father. Until his name was clear and he’d settled his quarrel with Captain Fry, he must keep relations copacetic with his uncle, the Earl of Cromartie.

  Good Lord, Mairi was more like a sister than a wife. Aye, she was bonny enough, though he’d never harbored amorous feelings for her. As he’d thrown his efforts into the purpose of the Jacobite cause, he’d always hoped Mairi would find another, more suitable husband. Indeed at gatherings she always managed to turn heads, and now that she’d come of age, she might even have a secret suitor in the wings…God willing.

  Reid shot Dunn a leer. “Leave it alone.”

  “You have to face it soon, ’cause I’ve summoned Cromartie.”

  The millstone in his gut ground a bit harder. “Why the bloody hell did you do that?”

  “You didn’t think the redcoats would leave you alone, did you, m’lord?”

  “Nay, but I have enough men to face them.” Reid raked his fingers through his hair. “Shite.” What was worse, facing an army of dragoons, or facing his great-uncle and breaking the ridiculous betrothal the man had entered into with Reid’s parents when he and Mairi were infants?

  Dunn scowled as if he knew exactly what Reid was thinking. “Mayhap you can marry Miss Audrey off to Kennan Cameron. I’ve sent word to his da as well.”

  Reid’s fist tightened around his reins. He loved Dunn MacRae like a brother, but the bastard could use a good fist to the snout about now. “What the hell for?”

  “For the goddamned gathering. Jesus Saint Christopher Christ, Seaforth. Did that back lashing addle your mind?”

  “Shut it.” Reid pulled his horse to a stop outside the stables and checked his anger. “The redcoats are coming up the drovers’ glens.”

  Dunn’s expression suddenly grew sober. “How many?”

  “A regiment of two hundred, if they don’t pick up more along the way,” said Aiden, finally joining in the conversation. It had been wise of the marquis to keep his mouth shut about Audrey—at least until Reid straightened the shambles crashing around his ears. “’Tis why the womenfolk stayed behind.”

  “How much time?” Dunn asked.

  Reid dismounted and handed his reins to the stable hand. “We reckon two days.” Cluny rubbed up against his leg, demanding a scratch.

  Dunn snapped his fingers before he hopped off his horse. “Blast our miserable luck.”

  Reid gave his dog’s wiry coat a good scratch. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been preparing. Why the hell did I send you ahead—”

  “Of course I’ve been bloody preparing.” Dunn thrust his finger westward. “But half the Highland Jacobites will be here four days hence. Two days too bloody late.”

  “I’d as soon keep them out of it. The MacKenzie will face them.” Reid ground his fist into his palm while the raw torture of being whipped and humiliated spread like wildfire through his chest. “Together with the Atholl and MacRae men, they’ll be outnumbered and outmatched.”

  Tullibardine brushed the rain from his velvet doublet. Christ, he was the only man Reid knew who looked like a courtier even after he’d ridden a hundred miles. “Aye, and there’s no chance in hell the queen would turn a blind eye to a cavalier captain riding against an earl, a marquis, and a clan chieftain.”

  Reid grinned. One way or another he’d exact his revenge. “Enough talk. We’ve a battle to plan.”

  * * *

  For hours the sea galley fought through white-capped swells of the North Sea while rain stung Audrey’s face. She and Maddie huddled together on a bench near the rudder. Soaked clean through, she clutched the arisaid tight under her chin in a futile attempt to stay warm. But no matter how firmly Audrey clenched her muscles, her teeth continued to chatter.

  Captain Ferguson manned the rudder, holding on with both hands while the sail billowed erratically with wind. Throughout the entire journey, it would fill with air and assist the oarsmen to gain speed, but then an angry gust of wind would slam into the hull, rocking the galley so far to the side, Audrey had to cling to the bench to keep from being tossed overboard. The sail would flap like bed linens hung out to dry while the captain bellowed orders, fighting to steer the vessel back on course.

  “If the storm grows worse, we’ll have no choice but to sail ashore and wait it out,” the man bellowed in a thick burr.

  Audrey’s stomach churned with the next enormous wave and she crouched, pressing her fists to her forehead.

  Dear Lord, have mercy!

  She’d wrapped the missive in a pouch and secured it with oiled leather to ensure it stayed dry, but she couldn’t let it fall into the sea. Before they’d set sail, she’d placed the parcel under her skirts and secure
d it in place around her waist with a leather thong.

  To the north, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

  Gasping, Maddie grasped Audrey’s arm. “This is horrendous.”

  “But we cannot stop.”

  Three fingers of lightning streaked above, followed by a deafening boom. The galley tipped and swayed. In a blink, the rain came at them in sideways sheets.

  “Portside oars, heave!” Releasing one hand from the rudder, Ferguson thrust his finger toward the sailor manning the boom. “We’re rounding Kinnaird Head, tack west.”

  The surf grew increasingly angry. Waves crashed over the hull.

  Changing course, the boat eddied and bobbed. Audrey squinted through rain pelting her face and filling her eyes. “We’re headed for the rocks!”

  “Nay, lassie, we’re headed for the safety of the cove yonder,” Captain Ferguson shouted above the roar of the sea.

  Lightning flashed overhead so near, Audrey jolted and ducked.

  Maddie grasped her arm and screamed. “Dear God. The mast’s afire!”

  “She’s taking water,” hollered an oarsman.

  The captain pulled the rudder hard left, his face contorting with his effort. “Heave ho, straight for the shore.”

  “Rocks starboard!” shouted the navigator from the stern.

  Audrey threw her arms around Maddie. The two women clung to each other as jagged rocks scraped the underside of the hull. Icy water washed over Audrey’s feet.

  “God, save us,” Maddie prayed under her breath while shouts of doom came from the oarsmen.

  “Hold the course!” the captain yelled. “We’ll run aground afore she sinks. I’m no’ about to lose my lady to the sea. Not this bloody day.”

  Audrey held tight and seethed through her teeth, “We cannot fail. Not only is Reid’s life at risk, your husband is riding beside him.”

  The water rose to her knees.

  “Can you swim?” asked Audrey.

  “A bit, but we’ll not be swimming for our lives this day.” The marchioness pointed to the walls of a dark castle looming above the stony beach. “I have a plan.”

  The ship groaned and bumped, shrieking like a sea monster as it came to rest in the shallows. Rain continued to pummel them while the sailors carried the ladies to the shore.

  The women and crew stood dumbly, watching their boat as if she’d suddenly repair herself so they could be under way.

  “She’ll be grounded for months, I’d wager,” said Audrey, though no one even turned his head her way. She might as well have been talking to the sea.

  Must she be thwarted at every turn?

  “Captain Ferguson,” called Maddie with an assured voice, as if she hadn’t just been through a harrowing ordeal. “Please accompany Miss Kennet and me to Kinnaird Castle. We must have a word with Lord Saltoun forthwith.”

  Audrey leaned nearer her friend and pulled her aside so not to be overheard. “You know the master of this castle?”

  “Through my father, aye.”

  “And he is loyal to the cause?”

  Maddie grinned. “He was arrested with my da in 1708 when James tried to pay a visit to Edinburgh. My guess is he understands the meaning of Highland hospitality.”

  “Then let us pray we find him at home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Do these mountains never end?” Though Wagner wore a well-oiled cloak, the rain had soaked him clear through to the bone. Driving wind drove the icy droplets and stung the exposed skin on the back of his neck.

  But after a fortnight of misery, the goal was finally in sight. Their Highland tracker had led them to an encampment of government troops near Urquhart Castle. Before their guide prepared to leave, Wagner stopped the burly man who looked like a bloody heathen with his bare knees. He wore a dirk in his belt on one side and an old sword on the other. Between the two hung his leather purse in the Highland style. What was it with these savages and their emphasis on the need to protect their cocks? Did a one of them know how to fight fair?

  He doubted it.

  “How far to Dingwall?” Wagner asked, eyeing the purse. No doubt the tracker had just been paid by the way it bulged. If only he’d met the man in a dark alleyway without two hundred soldiers milling about, he might relieve him of his coin.

  “What’re you hunting up there?”

  Wagner shrugged as if it were a trifle. “I’m told the Earl of Seaforth makes the best whisky in the Highlands.”

  “Aye? ’Tis nay bad, but if you want the best, I’d ride south to Glenlivet and sample the Duke of Gordon’s still.”

  “I just may need to try them both.” Wagner ran his fingers down the beard he’d been unable to groom for the past fortnight. “But you didn’t mention how far the ride is from here.”

  “Nay. I didn’t.” The man smirked and pushed past, mounting his horse. He rode away without a backward glance.

  Anger coiled around Wagner’s gut. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d folded into the ranks like a mercenary and kept his mouth shut for the most part. Coxhoe House should be his. The mine should be his, and moreover the income from the mine. Watford had promised he’d secure it. The miserable solicitor had told him to stay patient while he kept the estate in abeyance until the Earl of Seaforth was forced into accepting Wagner’s proposal for Audrey’s hand.

  He snarled and flexed his freezing fingers. Nothing would stop him from taking what was rightfully his. He was the only surviving male heir, regardless of his whore of a mother. He was the only man who could take charge of the mine and his uncle’s daughter.

  “Tupps,” said Captain Fry, coming up beside him. “I would have thought you’d be overjoyed to have come through the drovers’ trail. My God, that passage never gets any easier. It’s miserable up here.”

  “And Seaforth. When will we meet up with him?”

  “The lieutenant tells me his castle is a half-day ride from here.”

  “So why did we stop?”

  “Because I’m in command of this regiment. And I’ll decide how and when we engage.” Fry gestured toward a ramshackle hovel with smoke curling up from the thatch. “Come, let’s move out of the rain. You can buy me a drink. God knows I could use one.”

  * * *

  The great hall at Brahan Castle hummed with the chatter of Highlanders seated at long tables. Every man knew a fight was coming. It was just a matter of when and where.

  Though Brahan contained a separate dining hall for the noble family, Reid chose to eat with his men while Dunn and Tullibardine joined him.

  Reid speared a lump of black pudding with his fork—a utensil he’d grown accustomed to using during his days at court. “Last eve spies reported Captain Fry’s regiment rode into the encampment on Loch Ness.”

  Dunn reached for his cup of cider. “Right on cue, just as we predicted.”

  Tullibardine nodded. “Honestly, I thought we’d have another day or two. The bastard must want you with a vengeance, especially with all the rain we’ve been having.”

  “The storm’s broke,” Dunn said with his mouth full of food.

  Reid looked between the two men. “I’m not surprised. Tupps wants nothing more than to sink his thieving fingers into the Kennet estate.”

  “Aye.” Dunn washed his bite down with another swig of cider. “And I reckon he’ll ruin it and Miss Kennet within a year.”

  Reid slammed his fist on the table. “That parasite will not be touching the lass or Kennet lands! I’m still guardian, and I’ll not allow it.” He angrily tore off a piece of bread. “You’re certain the lookouts are on full alert?”

  “Bloody oath they are. Spoke to each one myself.”

  Tullibardine spread conserve on his bread. “The Atholl men are itching for a fight.”

  “As are the MacKenzie.”

  “And the MacRae.”

  A sentry marched through the big oak doors, heading straight for the high table. “M’lord, the Earl of Cromartie is on his way with reinforcements.”

  G
od’s bones. Though Reid would have preferred it if his distant uncle and his men had stayed at home, he couldn’t reveal his sentiments in front of his clansmen. “Good to hear. When—?”

  Gilroy MacKenzie, the Earl of Cromartie, strode through the door before he could finish the question. “Feasting when there’s a battle to be waged?” the braggart hollered across the hall.

  Tullibardine nudged Dunn with his elbow. “What was that you said about your lookouts? With spies like that, the redcoats will be upon us afore we finish breaking our fast.”

  The MacRae chieftain gaped. “Beg your pardon, but Cromartie came from the west. The bloody dragoons will be coming from the south, m’lord…ye maggot.”

  “I love you, too, MacRae.” At least the marquis had a sense of humor.

  Reid shoved his chair back and offered his hand as the earl crossed the floor. “Thank you for coming.”

  The man grinned. “And miss a fight? I would have run through a burning forest to meet a mob of redcoats after the 1708 debacle. ’Tis about time we stirred things up a bit.”

  Reid offered the man a chair while his meal churned in his stomach. It would be a hell of a lot easier to avoid a confrontation altogether. If only Queen Anne had answered his missive, but there had been no reply waiting when they’d arrived at Brahan. “A battle could bring the attention of the crown. Attention we do not need.”

  “Och, are you going soft?” asked Cromartie. Then he raised his voice. “Come, Mairi. There’s bountiful food.”

  The back of Reid’s neck burned as his second cousin peeked into the room with an enormous grin. “Why the devil did you bring Her Ladyship to a fight? This is no place for womenfolk.”

  “Agreed,” said Tullibardine. He’d been smart enough to leave his wife at Blair Castle, where she would be safe.

  The older earl looked at Reid as if he’d grown two heads. “You don’t intend to lure the bastards to Brahan?”

  “Of course not. We’ll set an ambush this side of the River Conon, but Mairi should have stayed at home,” Reid clipped in a whisper before the lass reached the table.