The Flame on the Moor

by Fiona Neal

  “Not at all,” Deirdre lied, realizing that uttering falsehoods had become all too easy for her. “But I am shocked my uncle failed to dissuade you from traveling since he is so fearful of The Flame.”

  “I never told him my plans. I simply sent a servant with the message as I embarked on the journey, my lady.” Lady Mary’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.

  That news disappointed Deirdre. Now her uncle would probably descend into loneliness and a premature old age. “I am sorry, Lady Mary. I feel that he will regret his reticence.”

  The blonde woman’s dark eyes glittered with the hardness of obsidian. “Indeed, he will and more than he knows. Life can be cruel, my lady.”

  Lady Mary’s tone chilled Deirdre to the marrow of her bones. But perhaps she was overreacting. This business with Fergus unnerved her.

  Lady Mary’s gaze rested on Deirdre’s hands, tightly clenched in her lap.

  “Are you anxious about something?” The blonde looked her straight in the eyes.

  “Not at all,” Deirdre lied again. She managed a smile and changed the subject. “You will be happy to know that Lord Strathaven is here. He will be delighted you are visiting.”

  “He is a charming man.” Lady Mary smiled.

  “I thought I heard my name taken in vain.” Strathaven stood at the door.

  “Do welcome our guest,” Deirdre invited him.

  Clad in a suit of Burgundy linen, a jabot of fine lace at his throat, Strathaven strode to them. Bowing gallantly, he kissed first Deirdre’s hand and then Lady Mary’s. “It is a great pleasure to see you again, Lady Mary.”

  Lady Mary smiled. “I can assure you, my lord, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Oh dear! Would the lovely widow carry on a flirtation with Strathaven? Uncle Robert, you are a fool! But Deirdre had no time to worry about her uncle’s love life when Fergus had just days to live. She must extricate herself.

  Suddenly, the servants arrived with the tea.

  “If you will excuse me, I feel tired,” Deirdre stated, wondering if she could ever stop lying.

  “Of course, my lady,” Strathaven replied. “It is common for an expectant mother to feel listless at times.”

  Lady Mary arched an eyebrow. “Congratulations, my lady.”

  But Deirdre saw no real joy in the woman’s eyes. “Thank you, Lady Mary.” Deirdre rose. “I must lie down again.” She looked at Lord Strathaven. “Will you please instruct the servants not to disturb me? Make sure to inform Morag because she fusses so, and I need to rest. My stomach is so upset I do not even want my meals brought unless I use the bell-pull.”

  “Oh, course my lady,” Strathaven replied.

  * * * *

  Ian held his handkerchief to his nose as Fergus paced the cobbled floor of his cell. The stone surface glistened with dampness, and trickles of water slid down the granite walls, forming pools in the corners. As always, the stench of urine nauseated Ian.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time, my lord?”

  “I have a few more questions for you, Fergus.”

  “I’m asking you to let me die in peace. I have told you all.”

  “Nay, you have not, and that could endanger her ladyship.”

  Fergus stopped and glared at Ian. “How would it harm her, my lord?”

  “I have reason to believe that The Flame is embroiled in a plot to kidnap her. I also think you are his unwilling dupe. Perhaps you’ve been silent because you are protecting someone, a family member The Flame is holding hostage.”

  The servant’s face split into a huge smile. He tossed back his head and roared with laughter. “Had I lived two lives, I could not have thought of such a bonnie scheme. I did not think you had so braw a sense of humor, my lord.”

  “I fail to see the amusement in my statement.”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord.” Fergus wiped his tearing eyes. “But the story tickled me. Besides, The Flame would not hurt her ladyship.”

  “So the man does know her!” Anger surged through Ian. His wife had lied to him.

  “Nay, my lord, her ladyship knows no such man and neither do I. To that, I swear with a clear conscience, sure I’ll meet my creator with the truth on my lips.”

  Ian felt relief spread through him like the relaxing effect of a dram. “How do you know he would never hurt her?”

  “The Flame will never hurt her ladyship because she has great sympathy for the poor. The Flame’s mission is to help the poor.”

  So Fergus did not believe The Flame was involved with the kidnappers any more than Deirdre did. But a plot existed. Ian surmised that he had been chasing down a blind alley.

  * * * *

  Deirdre thought that darkness would never fall. Still, she had been compelled to wait until everyone retired before she could collect the supplies she needed for Fergus’ escape from jail.

  Now, dressed in Ian’s oldest garb hastily altered to fit her, Deirdre hurried through the dark tunnel, holding a candle to light her way. Her pistol, ball, and powder hidden beneath her coat, and her sgian dhu in her boot, she carried a bundle filled with a change of clothes, rope, and a club in her other hand. Next to her breast she had hidden the one hundred pounds Ian had left for her.

  Leaving the long passage, she saw the loch below, shimmering in the moonlight. Too soon, the summer dawn would prance across the sky like a fiery steed because it was already one a.m.

  Unfortunately, she had no cloak of mist to conceal her. Well, she planned to stay off the road, and dressed as a poor man on an old dobbin of a horse, neither redcoats nor kidnappers would molest her—she hoped.

  Blowing out the candle, she dropped it on the sandy floor of the cave and hurried toward the rowan tree where Connor stood, holding the horse.

  “Good lad,” she said as she mounted. “Now, return to your bed and make sure no one sees you.”

  “My lady, I wish you would not do this thing.”

  She had no wish to go either, but the vivid image of Fergus hanging from the end of a rope bolstered her resolve. “Pray for my success, Connor. And tell no one. Lives depend upon your silence.”

  “Don’t worry and God’s speed to you, my lady,” he said as Deirdre urged her mount toward the deep of the forest.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ian stood by the bedchamber window of his Glasgow townhouse and watched the iron-gray sky. A steady mist had drifted from the river, causing the cobblestones to gleam with moisture.

  He had spent a sleepless night, knowing that he must testify against Fergus today, and foreboding weighed heavily on his heart.

  Despite the overwhelming evidence against Fergus, something about this case disturbed Ian. He surmised the man had taken those jewels because of extenuating circumstances, something for which he was ready to die.

  Ian planned to do all he could to dissuade the judge from hanging the man. Perhaps he could convince old Judge Glendower to release Fergus into his custody to serve out his sentence in Kilbraeton.

  He longed to return there and to his wife’s eager embraces.

  A loud, urgent knock suddenly sounded on his door.

  “Come in,” Ian called out.

  Padraig entered. “My lord, it is time to get ready for court.

  “Aye, let us get on with it,” Ian replied glumly.

  * * * *

  The chimes in the clock tower tolled out nine times. I am late, Deirdre thought, carefully walking over the slick, mist-washed cobblestones toward the tolbooth. Sunshine, though a sturdy horse, was old and had needed to rest much more than she’d anticipated. The journey had waxed long and with each step, her apprehension grew.

  Before entering the city, Deirdre had donned a white wig and the black garb of a widow, securing pistols, a club, a gag, and rope under her large panniers.

  She would urge Fergus to feign illness. When the turnkey entered, they would render him unconscious, tie him up, and escape.

  Finally arriving at her destination, she entered the dank build
ing. A young man stood as she entered.

  “May I be of some service, mistress?”

  “I am here to visit my relative, Fergus—”

  “The dark-haired Highlander,” the young clerk finished for her.

  “Aye,” she replied.

  “It is a pity you came all this way for naught. The man is on trial as we speak. The evidence against him is overwhelming. The trial is just a formality, and the hangman is waiting by the gallows.”

  Deirdre stifled a scream. “Where is the courthouse, sir?”

  “You will find the Court of Justice on the next street, my lady.”

  Deirdre turned and ran, slipping several times as she dashed across the cobbles. Her lungs burned as she hastened up the steps and into the building.

  Now Ian would discover the truth, for she must testify. He would learn that she took the jewels to pawn, but she still refused to reveal anything about The Flame.

  Pulling the black hood of her cloak forward, she hid most of her face. Then she opened the great oaken doors to the court’s chambers and hurried inside as quietly as she could.

  She trembled as she viewed the stern visage of the white-wigged, black-robed barristers and the judge presiding behind the elevated bench.

  Shackled and manacled, Fergus faced the august officials while Ian stood in the witness box.

  Deirdre felt dizzy. She leaned against the door for support, listening as her husband’s testimony damned the innocent man.

  Unable to endure another moment, she flung back her cowl and cried out, “My lord, if it please the court, I have evidence that will clear this man.”

  A rumble of murmurs arose from the spectators. Pounding his gavel and demanding silence, the judge peered sharply at her. Every pair of eyes in the crowded chamber focused on her, but it was Ian’s stunned gaze that riveted her to the spot.

  “And who might you be, mistress?” The judge peered at her through his spectacles.

  “I am Deirdre MacLeod, Countess of Ballanross, and lately Lady Kilbraeton, wife of Lord Kilbraeton, the gentleman who bears witness at this moment.”

  Surprise on his face, the judge turned to Ian. “Does she speak truly, my lord?”

  “She does, my lord.” Ian nodded.

  “Come forward, Lady Kilbraeton, and take the witness box.”

  Her heart beating so furiously she could scarcely walk, Deirdre slowly came forward, avoiding Ian’s gaze as they passed.

  Taking her place, she began her testimony. A tense hush fell over the room as her story unfolded, and Deirdre watched her husband’s moss green eyes turn cold with rage when she revealed the truth.

  “So you see, your honor, no crime has been committed.” Deirdre looked at the judge. “The jewels belong to me, and my husband relinquished his control over my moveable property, so no crime has been committed.”

  The judge looked at Ian. “Is that true, Lord Kilbraeton?”

  “Aye, my lord,” Ian answered, his green gaze hard with anger.

  “Continue your testimony, my lady,” the judge instructed.

  “I wished to sell that particular piece and replace it with paste, your honor,” Deirdre added.

  “Why?” The judge glared at her.

  “It is a private matter, my lord, and has no bearing on the case.”

  “Maybe not, my lady, but I wish to know.”

  The old toad wanted to humiliate her. Very well, she would reveal what she could. “I wanted the money to help the poor who have been evicted from their homes.” She did not commit total perjury. The money she needed for restitution originally went to help the poor.

  “That is an expensive proposition. Why did you not ask your husband, my lady?”

  “I did not wish to trouble him with such a trifle, my lord. After all, he gave the jewels to me.”

  The judge looked at Ian for corroboration. Ian nodded.

  “True enough.” The judge rapped his gavel. “Case dismissed.”

  A roar erupted from the crowd.

  Fergus knelt before her as she approached him. “I thank you for saving my life a second time, my lady.”

  “Stand, Fergus. Take this purse and set sail for the colonies,” she urged, hoping to have him across the ocean before they discovered he still had another price on his head. “I shall send Morag to you.” She slipped the pouch into his hand.

  “I cannot leave you now. I ken the Jacobites wish to kidnap you, my lady.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I shall protect her ladyship, Fergus,” Ian replied, his gaze piercing hers with the cold sharpness of sword points.

  “Scotland has been an unlucky place for you, Fergus,” Deirdre added, noticing the blonde roots of his hair had grown out and showed quite obviously. “The colonies can offer you new opportunities.”

  “My merchantman, the Polaris, leaves for Barbados. If you wish, I shall arrange passage.” Ian added.

  “Thank you, my lord, but I am not ready to go yet.”

  “But Fergus,” she protested.

  Turning to Deirdre, he cut off her protests. “I won’t leave you, my lady, but I’ll not trouble you further. I’ve got unfinished business of my own.”

  He bowed, and with tears in her eyes, Deirdre watched the big man turn and walk from the courtroom and out of her life. She would miss him.

  “And now, my lady wife, there are questions I will have answered, such as why your servant preferred to die rather than tell me you had planned this escapade.” Ian’s hand closed on her upper arm like a vice. “We will discuss this at greater length when we are alone.”

  * * * *

  Ian paced the floor of his billiard room, trying to quell his anger before he confronted his wife. For now, Deirdre had sequestered herself in the bedchamber adjoining his. Perhaps she hoped to elude him until she concocted a plausible excuse for her outrageous behavior.

  He stopped near the hearth and pounded the marble mantle with the end of his balled fist. Deirdre had humiliated him publicly, revealing to the whole world that she and Fergus had colluded to sell her jewels without informing him—her lawful husband.

  Ian felt deep remorse for accusing an innocent man. Cold chills tingled down his spine when he considered that a man could have swung for a crime he did not commit. From now on, he would temper justice with mercy.

  Nevertheless, his wife’s caper would be talked about—nay laughed about—for years in every pub and drawing room in the land.

  Worse, she had endangered herself and their unborn child by exposing herself to kidnappers and rigors of a journey. Ian cringed, thinking about what could have happened to her.

  Why had she done such a thing? He would have given her the damned money if she had just asked.

  And how had she slipped past the guards and Strathaven? Likely, she found one of the secret passages. Poor Strathaven must be frantic with worry. Right now, the man was probably scouring the countryside for Deirdre. Ian resolved to pen a note of explanation to his friend.

  A servant’s appearance interrupted Ian’s melancholy thoughts.

  “My lord, Lord Strathaven and Lady MacNeill are in the drawing room.”

  “Send them right in and order cook to prepare some refreshments.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the man said, bowing and making his exit.

  Deirdre would have to wait for their confrontation, and perhaps cooling her heels a bit would prompt her to reflect upon her folly. Right now, his friends needed their fears allayed.

  Strathaven and the beautiful Lady Mary entered the room, anxiety in their eyes.

  “Ian!” Strathaven rushed toward them. “We bring ill tidings.”

  “Do sit, both of you. Her ladyship is upstairs.”

  Strathaven’s eyes widened. “How and why? I mean, she left in such a strange manner.”

  Her skirts a billow of blue linen, Lady Mary gracefully sank into a chair.

  Ian explained the part of the episode that he knew.

  “But she is to receive her inheritance in a year or
so.” Strathaven shook his head. “Why did she need the money for the poor now?”

  “I do not know.” Nor did Ian believe her story. Deirdre’s action did not make sense.

  “May I see her?” Lady Mary asked. “Perhaps I can shed some light upon the situation. She used to confide in me.”

  * * * *

  Sharing tea with Lady Mary, Deirdre sat close to the window as the widow drank from an elegant porcelain cup edged in gold.

  “I am sorry I put you through such bother, Lady Mary, but I had no choice.”

  “You should have sent me to Ian. I should have told him you sent Fergus.”

  But Deirdre never wanted Ian to know the reason she needed the money. The whole purpose of the exploit was to keep Ian from suspecting the truth. “I still had to testify to save him, Lady Mary, and Lord Strathaven would never have allowed me to travel alone. I had already placed one man in jeopardy. I had no wish to endanger anyone else. The Jacobites could have held us all hostages.”

  “But why did you need to sell your gorgeous jewels, my lady? Certainly you could have asked Ian or me for the money?”

  How could she explain that she needed the funds to make restitution for her crimes? “Thank you, Lady Mary, but I prefer to drop the subject. I want to forget the whole bothersome incident,” she answered, resenting the fact that Ian had probably sent this woman to spy for him.

  Lady Mary dropped her gaze. “I’m sure you do, my lady.”

  “I apologize for being such a poor hostess.” Deirdre sighed. “You should be on your way to Edinburgh and a new life.”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “I wish to teach your uncle a lesson he will never forget. One day when he is old, alone, and without family, he will regret his indifference.”

  Once again, the woman’s words troubled Deirdre. “But Lady Mary, he will always have family as long as he has me, and soon he will have a grandniece or nephew.”

  “Oh, I meant not living with him all the time. Right now, well, he is still young. But later...oh, my lady, you know what I mean.” She took the fan dangling from her side and opened it with an abrupt flick of her wrist.