One Man's Love

by Karen Ranney

  One by one, he helped them descend to the staircase. “The first step is lower than you expect,” he warned each of them.

  A little girl stood against her mother’s skirts, her arms wrapped around one leg. Her mother’s hand was gently pressed against her cheek in wordless reassurance.

  The other children seemed to look upon the descent into the staircase like a great and grand adventure, even as the older members of the clan simply looked resolved.

  Ian wished he could tell them that it would be easier from this point on, but he wasn’t certain it would be. The path to freedom was sometimes difficult, but then they already knew that.

  The journey down the stairs was laden with both memory and illusion. Leitis could almost hear Fergus as a boy, his excited whispers filling the stairwell. James, always so cautious, would have counseled him to be careful. How odd that it had been James who had been so set on rebellion and Fergus who had argued for calm, wishing to remain at Gilmuir.

  What would have happened if they had returned from Culloden? Their presence would not have affected the outcome of Gilmuir. The English were here to stay, even if she was taking their commander with her, a thought that prompted a smile.

  Behind her she could hear the muffled groans as a few arthritic knees rebelled at the steep descent. They had all been so brave. The only complaining voices were those of Peter and Hamish, and they were more intent on each other’s failings.

  Now, at least, there was some measure of safety that had not been there before. The English knew nothing of the hidden stairwell, and of the ship that waited in the cove.

  The journey, however, felt endless as she led the way. Before, Ian had always been with her, comforting her with a jest or simply holding her hand. The responsibility she felt for the people behind her should have taken her mind from another worry, that of his safety. But it didn’t.

  What was he doing? What errand was so important that he had to stay behind?

  His courage was greater than hers, she realized. He had had so much more to lose by his actions, his position and his rank.

  She had already been under suspicion by the English simply because she was Scot. They had burned her home to the ground, killed her family. There was nothing more they could take from her.

  She learned a lesson in those moments. Courage was easy when there was nothing remaining to lose. But when she might have to learn to live without Ian, it became incredibly difficult to be brave.

  Finally, she reached the bottom of the steps. In the faint light she lifted the lantern and lit it with the tinderbox Ian had left behind. She moved back into the staircase and removed the lantern’s four shields, holding it high to illuminate the blackness.

  It was just as Ian had predicted, better to take the stairs in the darkness. The walls were coated with pale green algae that glistened in the lantern’s light. More than one person jerked his hand back, green being cited by superstition as the color of calamity and sorrow.

  The steps themselves were shiny black stone, the chisel marks still visible. Leitis couldn’t help but wonder how long the stairs had been here. Had Ionis the Saint carved them in all those years he’d lived on the island? Or did they predate him?

  One by one, the villagers emerged into the cave, expressions of relief being silenced by awe as they gazed up at the ceiling. Another unexpected surprise, that of Ionis’s lady faintly illuminated by the light from the lantern.

  The villagers huddled together, the hardship of the past hour etched into their faces. Leitis wished there was time to rest, but it was important to get them to the ship.

  She moved into the cave, glanced back once more at the staircase. Please hurry, she whispered in her mind and her heart. Another prayer to God would not be amiss, either.

  She pushed her way through the crowd to the cave entrance and out to the rocky shoreline. She was surprised by the size of the merchant ship; it dwarfed the cove. Holding the lantern aloft, she moved it into an arc above her head, hoping to be seen by someone on board.

  Immediately a boat was lowered and two seamen began to row to the shore.

  “Can you forgive me, Leitis?” Hamish asked from behind her. “You’ve not spoken yet.”

  She faced her uncle determinedly. “I have nothing to say to you, Uncle,” she said calmly. “Perhaps in time I will.”

  “Was it easier to forgive the Butcher his deeds?” Hamish asked curtly.

  She began to smile, amused that even now he would be arrogant.

  “He was never unkind to me,” she said.

  “I should have protected you better, Niece,” Hamish admitted.

  She said nothing in response.

  “So, you’ll make me pay for my foolishness until my dying day.” He frowned at her and she wondered if he was going to choose this moment to lecture her. The boat approached, nudged the shoreline, and the two seamen got out, began to hand the passengers in one by one.

  “Can you row a boat, Uncle?” she asked.

  He nodded curtly.

  She gestured to Ian’s skiff tied not far away. “If we send two boats at a time to the ship,” she said, “it will make the ferrying faster.”

  “So that’s to be my punishment, then, to be a beast of burden for the villagers of Gilmuir.”

  His irritation startled a laugh from her. She embraced him swiftly, the gesture unexpected, from the surprised look on his face.

  “You’ll never change, Uncle,” she said, certain of it. “Yes,” she added, smiling at him, “that’s your punishment.”

  He didn’t say a word, but he began to smile, an expression she didn’t often see on his lined face.

  “Fair enough,” he said. He turned to Peter, smiling tightly. “You’ll be my first passenger, then, you old goat.”

  “He’s a wise man that can take care of himself,” Peter answered.

  “Are you going to swim, then? How wise is that?”

  The two of them walked to the boat and stood aside as Martha and her daughter climbed in to sit in the bow.

  Leitis would remember this exodus for the rest of her life. The sky was marked by long, thin wisps of clouds lit from beneath by an orange glow. The necklace of rocks appeared almost amber in the fading sunlight. She heard the sound of the water lapping up against the rocks of the shoreline, the sighs of those who did not wish to leave Gilmuir but realized only too well the futility of remaining behind. The excited questions from the braver children reminded her of Fergus and James and Ian and herself, feckless and daring.

  The breeze blew her hair back from her face, carrying with it a faint chill. A hint of winter, a promise of seasons changing.

  She wanted to be with Ian in winter, when ice formed on the branches of the trees and the wind grew wild and harsh. She wanted a fire in a cozy cottage, and to have him enter, slapping his arms against his chest and grinning, red-faced, at her. He’d scrape his shoes at the door and tell her what he’d done that day. She would feed him well and listen intently and show him the plaid she’d woven. A new pattern, an amalgam of the MacRae tartan and something new. When it was time for bed, they would hold each other and gift each other with laughter or passion or fierce need.

  Please, God, let it happen.

  Chapter 30

  W hen the last of the villagers entered the staircase, Ian closed the entrance to the stairs and walked quickly to the laird’s chamber.

  He went to the loom and slipped the pattern from it. Folding it under his waistcoat, he left again, entering the archway that led to the clan hall.

  A sneeze alerted him.

  “I’ve looked all over the fort, sir,” a nasally voice said, “but he isn’t there, either.”

  “He’s got to be here somewhere,” Harrison said. “We need to find that staircase of his.”

  Ian waited a moment in order to ascertain whether any other men were with them. When it was obvious they were alone, he stepped out of the shadows to face his adjutant and aide.

  “I was trying to find a way
to get word to both of you,” he said, the feeling of relief he experienced staggering. “It’s not safe you for you to be here, especially since I will soon be labeled a deserter in addition to being a mere traitor.”

  “You don’t think we’d leave you, sir?” Harrison asked.

  “You’ve both been loyal to me. More than any man could expect. But now you must protect yourselves.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but where are you going?” Donald asked nasally.

  “Anywhere but Scotland or England,” he said. “The destination has not been chosen.”

  “Don’t you want us to come with you, sir?”

  “I’d be pleased to have you come with me, both of you. But it’s not a decision you can make without consideration. The army doesn’t treat deserters lightly.”

  “They can’t hang us if they can’t catch us, sir,” Donald said, grinning.

  Harrison looked up at the sky, the ground, then pulled himself up into a rigid stance. “Sir, I feel it necessary to confess something to you.”

  “Other than turning me over to Cumberland,” Ian said dryly, “what else would account for that look on your face, Harrison?”

  “She’s aboard ship, sir. Alison, that is.”

  Ian glanced at his adjutant. “I take it Miss Fulton challenged her father’s dictate?” he asked, smiling.

  Harrison glanced at him, grinning. The expression, while rendering his face plainer, was almost contagious. “She said that she wouldn’t let me leave without her, sir. We were married in Inverness, sir.”

  “I take it you were going to resign your commission? Wouldn’t that be wiser than being a deserter?”

  “At the moment, I’d much rather leave than take my chances with Sedgewick,” Harrison said.

  “He would pose no problem to you,” Ian said dryly, and explained what had happened.

  “Still, sir,” Harrison said, “it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to remain in Scotland once her father learns of our marriage.”

  “I’ve never been away from England except for Flanders and Scotland, sir,” Donald interjected, “but I’d like to see a part of the world that’s a bit more pleasant than this. One where there’s no war.”

  Ian’s glance encompassed both of them. “Then, if you’re certain, you’re welcome to come. But as of this moment I’m no longer your colonel, and you should not address me as such,” Ian said. He’d explain the change of names later.

  He walked to the priory, both men following him, and pulled up the stone. Donald descended to the steps, Harrison close on his heels.

  Ian once again sat on the edge, surveying the priory one last time. Shadows draped from the ancient walls like silk panels. In the distance of his memory he could almost hear a ceremony here, an imploration to God before battle. Perhaps he should make a similar plea, but he could not help but think that the outcome of this adventure had already been decided. Good fortune attended them, he was certain of it.

  In an odd twist of imagination, he envisioned his grandfather standing against the west wall, nodding in approval. His parents were there, too, his father’s arm around his mother, both of them smiling at him. James and Fergus stood alongside, grown men now, attired in their kilts and daring him with their grins.

  He nodded in farewell and slipped into the staircase.

  Pulling the two stones over him, Ian couldn’t help but wonder if this place would ever be discovered again.

  Hamish returned to the shore, his passengers having climbed the Stalwart’s rope ladder. He stepped from the boat and approached her, his boots crunching over the rocky shoreline.

  “And when will you leave, Leitis?” he asked, frowning.

  “When Ian arrives,” she said firmly.

  “Stubborn to the end, my love,” Ian said from behind her.

  She spun around and he was there, whole and safe, his smile gently teasing. She nearly leapt into his arms, she was so glad to see him. Ignoring the presence of the others, she pulled his head down for a kiss.

  “You took long enough,” she said when the kiss ended. Her complaint was ended on a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her. She was truly not given to tears, but she felt like weeping now. She hated the idea of leaving Gilmuir, but at the same time she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Sadness and joy were odd companions.

  “I had to arrange for more baggage,” he said in a low and intimate voice.

  She pulled back, looked up at him curiously. His smile was still anchored in place. Peering behind him, she saw both Harrison and Donald standing there. Both of them were smiling.

  “You’re coming with us?” she asked, surprised.

  Harrison nodded. Donald sneezed.

  He grinned at her, looked at Ian, and sneezed again.

  She frowned, suddenly realizing how he’d become sick. “Your cold has gotten worse,” she scolded. “You should have known something like this would happen if you go driving a wagon in the midst of a storm.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Ian. His grin was confirmation enough.

  Donald looked away, sneezed again.

  “What about you?” she asked Harrison. “Were you one of us?”

  “I wasn’t part of that, miss,” he said, smiling. “I was in Inverness.”

  “Hiring a ship?”

  He glanced at Ian and then nodded.

  “You should be tending that cold,” she said, turning back to Donald. She felt his forehead. “You’re as foolish as my brother Fergus,” she said, slightly alarmed at the heat of his brow.

  “So, you’ll be crooning to the English now, Leitis,” Hamish snapped.

  She heard Ian sigh, then watched in amazement as he strode to where Hamish stood. He gripped her uncle by both arms, lifted him effortlessly until his feet dangled a few inches above the shore and their eyes were at a level.

  “You’ll not speak to Leitis in that tone, Hamish,” Ian said firmly. “Not now, not aboard ship, not when we land, not ever.”

  Hamish nodded, his frown suddenly replaced by a grin.

  “You sound just like your grandfather, Ian,” he said, pleased. “It’s laird you’ll be, then. The clan needs a leader.”

  Ian simply stared at him, before lowering Hamish to the ground. He spun around, walking toward her again.

  “Tell me I was right to let him come along,” Ian said, reaching her. “Tell me I wasn’t a fool.”

  “You were right,” she said, amused. “But Hamish is, too.” She squinted at him as if measuring him. “You would make a fine laird.”

  A pronouncement that had him shaking his head.

  Lieutenant Armstrong knocked on the door with some trepidation. The general had taken over the colonel’s quarters and for the past hour a procession of aides had entered and left, bearing bottles of wine and crates of crystal. The general evidently had a taste for the finer things in life.

  Wescott opened the door himself. In his hand was a glass of wine, the mate to the one held by the Countess of Sherbourne. Beside her sat her son, and on the end of the table lay a cat curled in a ball in front of an empty basket. It was a thoroughly respectable scene, but it had the tinge of assignation, what with the flush on the countess’s face and General Wescott’s pleased countenance.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?” the general asked, his affability quickly changing to irritation. “I thought I left orders that I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but Major Sedgewick is nowhere to be found.”

  “I’m sure Sedgewick is capable enough not to get lost, Lieutenant,” Wescott said dryly.

  “But he was last seen heading toward the castle, sir, and he has not returned.”

  “I saw him not too long ago,” the countess said unexpectedly. She smiled sweetly at him. “The dear man mentioned that he had duties to perform. But, of course, I did not inquire further.”

  Armstrong stared at her, their gaze locking. She set her glass on the table, then smiled at the general.

  “Sh
all I leave, Nigel?” she asked softly.

  Wescott glanced at her, then turned and glared at Armstrong. “No, Patricia, I think not. If Sedgewick does not return by morning, Lieutenant, then I will concern myself. Until then, don’t bother me.”

  Armstrong had the curious feeling that the Countess of Sherbourne had just outmaneuvered him. He nodded and stepped back quickly as General Wescott closed the door in his face.

  The Stalwart looked low in the water, a brooding hen with touches of brown and tan about her. The journey to her side was made slower than Ian wished. He waited impatiently as Harrison and then Donald scaled the rope ladder.

  Finally it was Leitis’s turn.

  “I’ll not climb that thing with you staring up my skirt,” she said, annoyed.

  “Why do you think I let the other two go first?” he asked. “As to what’s under your skirt…” he began, only to be silenced by her look.

  “I’ll not look,” he promised, and when she frowned at him, he smiled. “Very well, only a little.” When she still hesitated, he held her aloft so that she had no choice but to grab the ladder for support.

  “You can be as arrogant as Hamish, you know,” she said, glancing behind her.

  He only smiled in response.

  It was not an easy ascent, agility with a rope ladder something that needed to be practiced. But a few moments later Leitis was aboard the Stalwart. He followed, Captain Braddock greeting him the moment his boots touched the deck.

  “I’m very pleased to see you,” the captain said with obvious relief. “If we hurry, we can make it around the rocks before full night.” He stared out at the cove warily. “I must confess that I’m eager to be gone from this place.”

  Ian turned back to the rail, looked over the side.

  Only one more boatload remained, and that carried no passengers, only the villagers’ belongings.

  “We should be gone in a matter of moments,” he reassured the captain.

  After the boat had been unloaded and all the packs and cases tied to ropes and hauled aboard, Ian moved to the bow. The same Italian sailor he’d met earlier stood beside him, once again marking the depth. They were entrusting their lives to this captain and his caution was a good sign.