Highland Storms

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘Well, you’re wrong. Every moment counts. Marsaili’s at that devious man’s mercy and I’ll never forgive myself if … oh, never mind.’

  Ramsay gave him a lopsided smile. ‘You’re really smitten, aren’t you? And there’s everyone back in Sweden thinking you’re suffering from a broken heart. I can’t wait to tell them different.’

  ‘I was, damn it, but I know better now.’ Brice glared at Ramsay. ‘I thought I loved Elisabet, but it wasn’t the real woman I idolised. I put her on a pedestal and never bothered to see whether I actually liked her or not, nor what was behind the pretty mask. I suppose I was just blinded by her beauty, like everyone else.’

  ‘And how do you know you’re not doing the same thing now with this Marsaili woman?’

  ‘Because she doesn’t pretend to be something she’s not. She’s honest, real and vibrant and … it feels different. I love her.’ He shrugged, then threw Ramsay a speculative look. ‘Just as you love Flora, I suspect.’

  ‘What? No! I mean … she’s a fine woman and all, but not for me, no,’ Ramsay blustered.

  ‘And why not? I’ve seen the way she looks at you.’

  ‘You have? I mean, no, why would she? I’m a crusty old widower with a child – isn’t that what you called me? No woman would want to take me on.’

  ‘Rubbish. And you know well enough I was joking.’ Brice grinned. ‘Ask her and I’ll wager a hundred guineas she says yes.’

  ‘A hundred … are you out of your mind?’

  ‘No, I’m saner than I’ve ever been. Alex, back me up here?’ Brice smiled at Alex who’d been walking along silently, but obviously listening.

  ‘I don’t have that much money, but if I did, I’d bet the same,’ Alex nodded.

  ‘You’re both insane,’ Ramsay muttered, but his cheeks had taken on an interesting hue of pink which reached all the way to his ears.

  Brice and Alex exchanged a look, but didn’t say any more. It was up to Ramsay to act on their observations if he wished, but Brice for one hoped his uncle would make Flora a proposal. It was time his second cousin had a life of her own, instead of living in the shadow of her mother.

  As for himself, he very much hoped he wouldn’t end up living the rest of his life alone. Because if he couldn’t have Marsaili, he would.

  He truly wanted no one else.

  ‘Warden, fetch a woman named Marsaili Buchanan if you please.’

  Sherringham was seated opposite the Inveraray judge and had asked to see the Jacobite bitch to make sure she looked suitably wretched. He’d waited three days, to make sure she was thoroughly cowed. The worse her aspect, the more he hoped Kinross would be moved to give himself up in her stead. Even if the man arrived incognito in the town, he’d see her through the bars of the prison which was all to the good. That was one of the reasons why Sherringham had chosen to bring her here – at Fort William or any of the others she’d have been out of sight. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, this should be interesting.

  After a lengthy wait, the warden came back huffing slightly and with reddish cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, your honour, but it seems she’s gone missing.’

  ‘Missing?’ Sherringham sat up straight in his chair, but the angry tirade he was about to utter was drowned out by the judge who beat him to it.

  ‘Another one! For the love of God, man, how many times do I have to tell you this is not acceptable? I thought you took on more staff to guard the prisoners?’

  The warden shuffled his feet and stared at the floor. ‘I did, sir, but …’ he shrugged, ‘there’s no knowing if they’re trustworthy, is there? I did warn ye against employing townspeople.’

  ‘You’ll damn well have to make sure. I’m holding you responsible!’

  The judge turned to Sherringham, apologetic but still visibly angry. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but it seems there has been some dereliction of duty.’ He glared at the warden again, but the man was still making a careful study of the floor.

  Sherringham took a deep breath and clenched his fists so hard on the armrests of the chair his knuckles cracked. He could shout and bluster all he liked, but he knew it wouldn’t help. The woman was gone. Damn and blast! Now he’d have to start all over again. He tried to compose himself and think.

  ‘When did she go?’ he asked curtly. ‘Do you keep any sort of check on the inmates at all?’

  The warden looked up. ‘Yes, sir, they were all counted before being locked away for the night. She must have been there then as she wasn’t reported missing at that point. And I was here myself until midnight, so she can’t have left before then.’

  ‘Hmm. Thank you.’ Sherringham got to his feet. It was still early morning and if the laird only had a head start of a few hours, he might be able to catch up with them. Either way, he had to try.

  And when he caught them, he’d make the scum pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Kirsty? And Flora! I’ll be damned. What are you doing here?’

  Brice was shown into the parlour of Rory Grant’s lodgings and stopped dead at the sight which greeted him. He felt Ramsay and Alex bump into him from behind and then try to peer under or over his shoulders respectively. Ramsay drew in a sharp breath, but it was drowned out by the squeals of delight that echoed round the room.

  ‘Brice, you’re all right! And you two as well, oh, this is capital.’ Kirsty rushed forward with her usual impulsiveness, while Flora stood up and blinked at them in surprise. Rory too got up from his chair and smiled when he saw who had arrived.

  ‘Well, thank the Lord for that,’ he said. ‘We had begun to fear the worst and none of our enquiries have met with any success. You’d disappeared without a trace.’ He came over to shake hands with all three men and clapped Brice on the shoulder. ‘Come in and have a seat. Tell us what on earth happened to you.’

  ‘We will, but first, why are my cousins here? Is something amiss at Rosyth? Ailsa? Marsaili? Ida?’ Brice regarded the ladies with a slight frown, wondering what new calamity had befallen his family. There seemed no end to them at the moment and he felt anxiety churning his gut.

  ‘Oh, you have no idea!’ Kirsty began to wring her hands, further alarming Brice who now expected to hear the worst.

  ‘Kirsty, let me explain. You’re too melodramatic.’ Flora came forward and put a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. She sent Ramsay a shy smile and a nod before turning to Brice. ‘We are here because Marsaili has been arrested by that Englishman who took you away. Kirsty’s husband has gone with his father to try and have her released, but they weren’t sure they’d manage it. Iain therefore charged Kirsty with going to Edinburgh to enlist the help of your kind friend here.’ She nodded at Rory. ‘He thought perhaps Mr Grant could stop any legal action against her. Naturally, I couldn’t let Kirsty travel alone, so here we both are.’

  ‘Yes, and a good thing too,’ Kirsty added, ‘because after Iain and his father left, Archie told us he’d heard the Englishman give his men orders to head for Inveraray. So they won’t know she’s there until they return home. Mr Grant had just proposed to travel straight there himself to see what he could do in the meantime.’

  Brice waited until they’d finished, but while they spoke he felt his insides turn to ice. Marsaili, taken by the Englishman! Dear God … and with Seton in pursuit, that’s not much better. He might find out her destination somehow and then … He tried to draw air into lungs which suddenly seemed too small. ‘Thank you for your efforts. This makes it even more urgent, however. We had thought to ask Rory for the loan of some horses, so we could go north immediately. It sounds as if we need to press on as fast as possible, but heading west instead.’

  He quickly related what had happened to them and why he was afraid for Marsaili. ‘So you see, this may all be part of Seton’s plan. Either way, if he manages to free her from gaol, she’ll be in his clutches.’

  ‘Not so,’ Kirsty objected. ‘My Iain’s with them, remember?’

  ‘I’ve nothing against your husband, co
usin, but because he’s a nicer man, he’s not as ruthless as his father. Believe me, I doubt Seton will let his son stand in his way. He means to have Marsaili and now he thinks I’m out of the way, he’ll stop at nothing to achieve his aims.’ He rubbed his face to try and erase some of the tiredness and tension he was feeling. ‘Any idea where he’d take her if he wanted a speedy wedding ceremony? If he’s managed to spring her out of gaol, that is.’

  ‘Bailliebroch,’ said Flora without hesitation.

  Brice stared at her. ‘Why? I thought it was a ruin and it doesn’t even belong to Seton any more.’

  ‘The people there are still loyal to him, I’ve heard tell. He’s their laird. That would include the priest, who owes his appointment to Mr Seton’s late brother.’

  Brice stared at Flora with new respect. ‘That makes sense. Thank you.’

  Colour rose in her cheeks, making the pockmarks less noticeable. Brice saw Ramsay staring at her and nudged his uncle to bring him out of his trance. ‘Come on then, let’s be on our way. There’s no time to lose. We’ll go north, then west, in the hope of meeting Seton along the way. We’ll have to try and travel his journey, but in reverse if we can.’

  ‘Huh? Oh, yes, very well.’ Ramsay stood up, then hesitated. ‘You go and see about the horses. I, er, just want a quick word with Miss Kinross about Ida. Make sure she’s fine, you know.’

  Brice grinned and cuffed Ramsay on the arm. ‘Oh, I know all right. But don’t be long.’

  He ignored Ramsay’s glare and headed for the door.

  ‘Deuce take it! We’ll have to stop, father. My garron’s gone lame.’ Iain’s voice cut through the silence of the late afternoon and made both Marsaili and Seton turn to look at him.

  ‘Oh, for the love of … I don’t believe it.’ Seton swore under his breath.

  ‘Well, I told you this old nag wouldn’t make it far. He’s had to carry a double burden for two days now. Is it any wonder he’s tired?’

  ‘And I told you we should have stolen another one when we had the chance.’

  Marsaili heard the impatience in Seton’s voice, but couldn’t help being glad about the interruption to this seemingly interminable journey. She hadn’t wanted to say anything, in case she angered Seton, but she was exhausted and parched. Not to mention starving.

  ‘I’m not a thief, unlike some people,’ Iain retorted, jumping down from his horse and helping Eilidh off the rump. ‘We could have bought one, or at least part-exchanged this for another.’

  ‘We needed the money for other things. Would you have us leave Marsaili in that stinking place?’

  ‘I’m sure there was enough for both matters,’ Iain maintained stubbornly, then added, ‘Why don’t we stop here for the night? Since I assume we can’t risk going into any of the towns, here’s as good as anywhere. And maybe my horse will have recovered by morning.’

  Seton shook his head. ‘No, we haven’t gone far enough yet, we need to press on. But perhaps a short rest will do the trick.’

  ‘But it’ll be dark soon,’ Iain protested.

  ‘So? There’s almost a full moon tonight.’

  Marsaili’s heart sank. Dusk wasn’t far off and to her it felt as if they’d been riding for ever. Her entire body was sore from being bumped up and down continuously and her fingers stiff from holding onto Seton so she wouldn’t fall off. She really didn’t want to continue.

  They left the track they’d been following and entered a small forest, weaving among the trunks until they came to a clearing where a burn burbled its way along the middle. Marsaili jumped off the horse, stumbling slightly since her legs had gone a bit numb as well, then stretched her cramped muscles.

  She glanced at Eilidh, who had walked a few steps behind Iain without complaining. Away from the prison, Marsaili could see even clearer what a terrible state the poor woman was in. Her clothes were in tatters, filthy and mud-stained, and her hair hung about her face in listless hanks. Marsaili longed to dunk her, clothes and all, in a tub of water and scrub for hours, the way she would the laundry at home.

  To his credit, Iain hadn’t complained, even though Eilidh stank to high heaven. She must have been aware of this herself, because Marsaili heard her mutter an apology to him. ‘I’ve tried no’ tae sit too near ye. Wouldnae want ter ruin yer clothes, an’ all.’

  ‘It is no matter,’ Iain said, smiling kindly. ‘I’m glad if we managed to save another soul from such a hell-hole. No one should have to suffer that. Just out of interest, what did you do to be put in gaol, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  Eilidh sank down onto a nearby stone, as if her legs were too weak to hold her. Without proper nourishment for weeks on end, they probably were, Marsaili thought. ‘I stole a couple o’ bannocks,’ Eilidh admitted, her head bent. ‘But I swear it was only because I was desperate. I hadnae eaten for twa days and couldnae find work onywhere.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful, now we’re harbouring a criminal too,’ Marsaili heard Seton mutter, but thankfully she didn’t think his words reached Eilidh, who was closer to Iain.

  ‘Don’t worry, Eilidh,’ she said to her new friend, ‘I’m sure we can find you some work at Rosyth, can’t we Mr Seton? The laird won’t turn anyone away.’

  ‘She can go there herself and ask,’ Seton replied. ‘You and I won’t be going anywhere near Rosyth if I can help it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Marsaili raised her head to stare at him, a feeling of foreboding rising inside her.

  Iain frowned at him as well. ‘Yes, what are you talking about, Father? Of course we’re going to Rosyth. I promised Kirsty we’d bring Marsaili straight back.’

  ‘What do I care about your promises?’ Seton sneered. ‘Your wife can come and join us at Bailliebroch if she has a mind to, but she’ll have to live under my rules there.’

  ‘Not that again.’ Iain groaned. ‘Father, we’ve been over this and you won’t get it back. Especially not now the Englishman has double-crossed you. Do you honestly think he’s to be trusted?’

  ‘There are others who can be bribed as easily. Be that as it may, Bailliebroch will be mine. I’ll just have to find where the laird hid my money.’ He cast a sour look in Marsaili’s direction. ‘You’ll know, no doubt, so you can show me.’

  ‘Me? Why would I know? And I’ve no idea what money you’re talking about anyhow.’

  Seton walked up to her and backhanded her across one cheek. ‘Enough! Do you take me for a fool, woman? I saw the way the laird was making sheep’s eyes at you and do you deny going off to rescue him from Sherringham and his men? You and that mangy hound of yours.’

  Marsaili was too stunned by the slap at first to respond. Then anger welled up and she put her hands on her hips as she replied, ‘How dare you hit me, you miserable excuse for a man? Even if I did know anything, which I don’t, I wouldn’t tell you.’

  ‘We’ll just see about that.’

  Iain, who seemed as shocked as Marsaili at this turn of events, stepped forward with a scowl. ‘Now see here …,’ he began, but was cut off by the sight of his father taking one of his pistols out of his pocket. Seton aimed it straight at his son’s heart.

  ‘This is where you choose your allegiance once and for all, Iain,’ he said, his voice deadly serious. ‘Either you want your inheritance, in which case you’ll do as I say and not interfere, or I shoot you now. If you’re not completely committed to your birthright, you’re no longer my son and no use to me. Do you understand? It’s your choice.’

  Marsaili waited with bated breath for Iain to come to a decision. She didn’t want him to be like Seton, not now he was married to Kirsty, but on the other hand she definitely didn’t want him dead.

  It was an impossible choice.

  ‘Wait, captain, there are fresh hoof marks here on the verge. And look, horse droppings too. They may have gone this way.’

  Sherringham turned his horse and rode back to where one of his men was pointing at the ground. They’d been riding for the best part of two days, with only two conf
irmed sightings of the Buchanan woman and her rescuers. He was tired of this chase and wanted a meal and a comfortable bed for the night, but he wouldn’t rest until he had her back.

  ‘You could be right,’ he conceded. Silently he added to himself, Thank the Lord the woman has such vivid hair or we’d have missed that last turning. The yokel they’d spoken to had said he couldn’t be mistaken and it would seem he was correct.

  ‘Very well, dismount and proceed with caution. I want to follow the hoof prints in the soft moss if possible. They can’t have gone far. Complete silence from now on, that’s an order.’

  He’d find the bitch if it was the last thing he did. And then he’d deal with the arrogant Jacobite.

  ‘Are you sure this is the way he’d take to Baillie-whatever-it’s-called?’

  Alex rode up next to Brice and peered at him in the deepening gloom. The day was nearly over and Brice knew they would have to stop soon or they’d risk injuring the ponies. He swore silently.

  ‘Yes, Kirsty’s directions were clear, but we’re still a fair way off. We have to press on for just a bit longer. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I was only making sure.’ Alex never complained and Brice thanked God for this small mercy at least. The youth had certainly proved his worth during the last few days and when this was all over, Brice hoped Alex wouldn’t leave in a hurry. He’d come to appreciate his company.

  They’d headed north first, then west past Rosyth and Bailliebroch, stopping only to ascertain that Seton hadn’t arrived at either destination yet. Kirsty had told them there was a highland path that led south-west from the edge of the Bailliebroch lands, straight towards Inveraray.

  ‘If Seton’s in a hurry, I’m sure he’d travel that way,’ she’d said. Brice sincerely hoped she was right.

  ‘Brice, this is madness.’ Ramsay rode up on his other side. ‘We don’t even know if the man was heading this way. Shouldn’t we have gone to the gaol first to check if Miss Buchanan is still there?’