Brice shook his head. ‘No, Seton will have found a way to get her out. He wants her badly. If he was in cahoots with the Englishman, he’ll have her free in no time. If not, he’d spring her out somehow. Trust me, I know the man by now.’
Ramsay sighed. ‘Very well, but I hope you know what you’re –’
He was interrupted by the loud crack of a pistol shot and all three of them stopped to listen as it was followed by a piercing scream. Brice pointed to the left. ‘It came from over there. What if it’s …?’
‘Don’t be daft, man. If Seton wants her as much as you say, why would he shoot her?’
Brice spurred his mount into a gallop and headed for the nearby trees. Ramsay was right, but he had to check just to make sure. And if it wasn’t Marsaili, then some other poor soul was in deep trouble.
Chapter Thirty
Marsaili stared in dawning horror at the large patch of red staining Iain’s shoulder. Eilidh screamed again, clearly frightened out of her wits, but Seton aimed his other pistol at her and told her to shut up. ‘If you don’t, you’ll be next,’ he warned. Poor Eilidh blinked, but closed her mouth, only emitting a series of hiccoughing sobs.
Marsaili rounded on Seton. ‘Have you lost your mind? Your only child? How could you?’
She’d admired Iain for standing up to his father, although she guessed he’d never imagined Seton would actually pull the trigger. But then, neither had she.
‘He’s no son of mine, I told you. He has no pride in his clan, no loyalty, no guts. I doubt there’s any Seton blood in him at all. My wife must’ve been unfaithful.’ A low growling noise came from Iain’s direction and Marsaili saw him stagger to his feet, his expression murderous.
Seton waved the pistol in his direction. ‘Stay back,’ he warned. Iain hesitated, then sank back down onto a nearby rock.
Marsaili shook her head at Seton. He was clearly mad, but also dangerous. She tried to edge away from him, but he was quick to turn the pistol on her. ‘Don’t even think of moving,’ he snarled. ‘This time you’re coming with me. We’ll be married as soon as we reach Bailliebroch. I’ve waited long enough.’
‘Never,’ she hissed back. ‘I’ve told you my answer and I won’t change my mind, no matter what you do. You can’t force me into wedlock, the minister says a woman has to be willing. I’m not.’
‘There are ways and means,’ Seton smirked.
Marsaili ground her teeth in frustration. ‘I don’t understand why you can’t take no for an answer. What’s the point of marrying someone who doesn’t want you? Where’s the joy in that?’
His eyes turned darker with desire as he raked her with his gaze from head to toe and back again. ‘But there’s none so bonny as you, is there? You’re a prize worth having and since I don’t want to share, marriage it’ll have to be. Besides, it’s the principle of it now. You’ve defied me for too long. As my wife, you’ll have to do what I tell you for the rest of your life, I’ll make sure of it.’
She shook her head. ‘I won’t agree, I tell you. If you try to force me, I’ll kill myself.’
‘I won’t give you the chance.’ He walked over and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards his pony. ‘Come on, we’ll leave these two here. We don’t need them. You,’ he pointed at Eilidh, ‘help him if you want, or go, I don’t care. But don’t you dare follow us.’
He was just about to mount up, when a voice rang out across the clearing. ‘Well, well, so it wasn’t Kinross who snatched the lady from under my nose, it was you. I should have guessed. Mind you, it makes it so much easier, because now I can put you behind bars as well. Two birds with one stone. Perfect.’
‘You!’ The one word was filled with loathing and Marsaili felt a shudder pass through Seton. ‘Filthy, double-crossing son of an English whore.’ He muttered an oath in Gaelic.
Sherringham shrugged. ‘My parentage is not the issue here. I rather think yours is more important, Jacobite as they were. And as for our little agreement, that came to an end when you allowed someone to free Kinross from my clutches.’
‘I didn’t allow anything,’ Seton spat. ‘This stupid woman took it upon herself to do so, more’s the pity.’
Sherringham’s eyebrows rose. ‘The woman, was it? I’ll be damned.’
‘That you will. I sincerely hope hell is where you’re going.’ Seton aimed his pistol at the Englishman. ‘Now leave, or I’ll have no choice but to shoot you.’ He nodded in Iain’s direction. ‘I’ve already shot my fool of a son, so don’t think I’ll hesitate.’
The captain regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘Don’t be an imbecile, Seton. There are at least ten muskets trained on you at the moment.’ He indicated a number of dark shapes moving among the trees. ‘My men won’t miss and I’ll wager they’re faster than you. Now hand over the woman and the money you owe me and I might let you live.’
‘Never, she’s mine,’ Seton hissed. ‘I’d rather shoot her than give her to the likes of you.’
‘Another suitor for the lady’s hand? How touching. But I wasn’t asking, that was an order. Hand her over or you die. Now.’
It was Marsaili’s turn to tremble at the menace in the English captain’s voice. She didn’t know which was worse – being forced to go with him or staying with the clearly insane Seton.
She was spared the choice, since in the next instant complete chaos broke out in the little clearing. Several new dark shadows came tearing out of the line of trees, horsemen riding at full tilt. The first one knocked the captain off his mount with an almighty tackle, then grabbed at the nearest soldier’s musket before he had time to fire it. Some of the other soldiers suffered a similar fate and several shots rang out, followed by the dull thud of bodies falling to the ground or screams of pain.
Seton turned his head to see what was going on and Marsaili took her chance to try and snatch the pistol from his hand. He was stronger than she’d thought, however, and began to wrestle it back from her. It was all she could do to keep it pointed away from her head and she feared it might go off at any second.
‘Bitch!’ Seton panted. ‘Think you’re too superior for a man like me? I’ll show you …’
But just as Marsaili thought she couldn’t hold out any longer, a pony came charging towards them and the rider’s booted foot kicked the pistol out of both their grips. It flew through the air and she saw Iain rise with an effort and catch it. He wasted no time, but aimed it straight at his father. ‘Hah! My turn, I think.’ There was no mistaking the triumph in his voice.
Seton stilled and Marsaili ducked away from him, intending to run for cover. She only managed three steps before he caught her skirts with a surprisingly strong grip, pulling her backwards and hard against his chest. She kicked out and hit his shin, making him swear and loosen his grip for a fraction of a second. Before he had time to grab her again, the shadowy rider charged at them once more and bent down to snatch her out of Seton’s grip. She heard the sound of material ripping apart, then landed hard on the man’s lap. Twisting around, she looked up into his face and gasped.
‘Brice? You’re alive! I thought … Oh, thank God!’ She wrapped her arms around his torso while he galloped deeper into the forest. He didn’t go far, but pulled the horse to a halt.
‘Marsaili, my love, are you all right? Did he …?’
‘No, I’m fine, I swear.’
He hugged her to him fiercely, almost squashing all the air out of her lungs, but she didn’t mind. He was alive. That was all that mattered. And he’d come for her.
‘I must go back and make sure the soldiers are all gone and Iain has his father under control. Please, wait here. I’ll return in a minute.’ He lowered her to the ground.
‘I’ll be here,’ she promised. She wasn’t going anywhere until she knew he was safe too.
Brice returned to the clearing and was relieved to see all was quiet. Ramsay was holding on to an English soldier he’d captured, whose right arm he had twisted up behind his back. The man wasn’t struggling and seemed re
signed to his fate, possibly because he was wounded. There was blood flowing down his left hand, Brice noticed. Thankfully, Sherringham was still lying on the ground where he’d fallen.
‘Hasn’t moved so much as a muscle,’ Ramsay confirmed. ‘Probably broke his neck when he fell off the horse.’
‘Good.’
Brice glanced at Iain, who sat on a rock while a filthy-looking young woman did her best to staunch the flow of blood from a shoulder wound he’d sustained. This didn’t stop him from pointing a pistol at his father with his right hand, which was obviously unharmed. Seton stood glaring at his son, but didn’t look as if he dared move.
‘Where are the other soldiers?’ Brice asked.
Ramsay nodded in the direction of the track. ‘Fled for their lives. There weren’t as many as we thought, only five or six at the most. A couple of them were wounded, but not mortally I think. Alex is pursuing them a little way, just to make sure they don’t turn back, but I doubt they will. Why should they risk their lives for nothing?’
Brice dismounted and crouched next to Sherringham. It was too dark under the trees to see whether he was breathing, so he grabbed the man’s shoulder to turn him over. Before he’d got very far, however, the Englishman moved of his own accord. With the speed of an attacking snake, the man twisted and tried to stab Brice with a dirk which had been hidden underneath him as he lay on the ground. The blade glimmered briefly as it arced through the air, but Brice had been poised for trouble and reacted even faster. He managed to recoil just far enough so the blade only slashed the skin of his abdomen very slightly. He swore and blocked a second thrust by hitting Sherringham’s arm. He didn’t have his own dagger, because he’d already used it in the earlier fray and hadn’t had time to retrieve it.
The captain tried to get to his feet, but Brice hooked a leg behind the man’s knees and he came crashing to the ground once more. His knife blade sliced through the air maniacally, coming very close several times, but Brice managed to duck or feint and thereby avoid another cut. Sherringham slithered away like a greased eel and jumped up once more. Finding himself near Seton, he lashed out in his direction as well, catching the latter unawares and inflicting a cut to the upper arm.
Seton screamed and turned to defend himself against this unexpected onslaught. ‘Shoot him!’ he screamed at Iain, while pulling out his own dirk. ‘Are you going to let this scum kill your father?’
‘I should,’ Iain muttered, ‘but …’ He raised his voice. ‘Put your dirk down, Sassenach, or I’ll shoot you now,’ he called out to Sherringham.
The Englishman paid him no heed and it was doubtful if he’d even heard him. He was trying to fight two men at once, as Seton was advancing on him from one side and Brice the other. ‘I’m warning you, you’ll pay for this. Harming an officer of His Majesty’s army … That’s a hanging offence.’
‘Not if we don’t get caught, scum,’ Seton snarled.
‘Here, Brice, catch!’ Ramsay threw Brice a lethal-looking dirk, handle first so he could catch it easily. Without pausing, Brice swung it round and pretended to attack Sherringham with it, but while the man concentrated on the oncoming blade, Brice kicked him in the knee so that his leg buckled. He staggered, but just as Brice was about to follow up with a hard fist to the chin, Seton threw himself at the Englishman with a blood-curdling yell.
Thanks to this, Sherringham had enough warning and swivelled round, bringing his dagger up for a deep thrust which caught Seton under the ribs. With a gurgling sound, he stopped dead and lifted a hand to the wound, looking down in surprise. ‘Curse you,’ he mumbled, then fell to his knees before slumping to the ground.
‘No!’ Iain’s anguished shout was drowned out by the report of the pistol as he pulled the trigger at the same time. It was Sherringham’s turn to look astonished when he too froze in mid-stride to glance down at himself. A huge, dark stain spread rapidly across his abdomen and with a long drawn-out sigh, he fell face first into the mossy undergrowth.
‘Oh, hell!’ Brice rushed forward at the same time as Ramsay, and they each turned a man over. Staring up at Brice were two lifeless eyes and when he glanced over, Ramsay was looking at the same on Seton’s face. Just to make sure, Ramsay touched the side of first Seton’s neck, then Sherringham’s.
‘No pulse,’ he said, shaking his head. They both looked at Iain, who was standing motionless, the pistol just hanging from his hand.
‘I didn’t mean to …’ he began. ‘I was just …’
Brice got up and went over to him, taking the pistol out of his grip. ‘It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.’ He put a hand on Iain’s uninjured shoulder and shook him a little. ‘The man was trying to kill your father and you acted in self-defence. No one can prove otherwise.’
‘I’ll swear tae that,’ the filthy woman suddenly said, startling them both.
‘And who might you be?’
‘Eilidh Beattie. I’m a friend o’ Marsaili’s. From Inveraray.’
‘Right. Well, thank you, your help will be most welcome.’
‘I’ll bear witness too in your favour.’ The captured English soldier, who could have fled if he’d wanted to, Brice realised, stood where Ramsay had left him.
‘You will?’ Brice couldn’t quite hide the surprise in his voice.
‘Yes. He was a bastard, was Cap’n Sherringham, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone hang for his sake when it was all his own fault. Draggin’ us round on this stupid goose chase for days on end because he had a bee in his bonnet about Jacobites. Didn’t like to be thwarted and was as mad as anythin’ when he found the red-headed lady gone, but really, it wasn’t up to him to pursue her, was it? No one asked him to.’
‘Thank you, Mr …?’
‘Moore, sir. Corporal.’
‘Corporal Moore. Would you mind coming with us back to Rosyth? I’ll tell your superiors you were wounded and needed treatment.’ Brice nodded at Moore’s left hand which was still bloodstained. ‘Then I can summon a lawyer to take your sworn statement.’
Corporal Moore nodded. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
Brice bent to search Sherringham’s pockets. ‘I’d better take care of any warrants he’s carrying so that my friend knows what charges there were against us and can prepare a defence.’
‘But that’s just it, there weren’t none,’ Moore said.
‘What?’ Brice looked up at the man.
‘He didn’t have no warrants. Made that up. No one thought to ask to see them, just took his word for it on account of him being a captain and all.’
‘Son of a bitch …’ Brice muttered. ‘I suppose that solves one problem at least. Thank you for telling me, Corporal Moore.’
Brice beckoned Ramsay over and pushed Iain gently in his direction. ‘Can you take care of things here for a moment, please? I must go back and fetch Marsaili, but I’ll be right back.’
‘Yes, go,’ Ramsay nodded. ‘Alex should be returning any minute, we’ll be fine. I’ll see to everything.’
Brice didn’t need any more encouragement. He vaulted onto the nearest pony and took off into the forest as if all the demons of hell were after him. He couldn’t wait another second to make sure Marsaili was still all right and where he’d left her.
She had to be. He couldn’t bear to lose her now.
Marsaili heard a shout and then the sound of another pistol shot. Panic swept through her like a tidal wave and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream of pure terror.
Brice! Brice, where are you?
He’d told her to wait and she knew she had to obey. Not because he had the right to command her in any way, but because she understood that if he had to worry about her, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on defeating their enemies. So the best thing she could do was to stay put. But dear God, it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
She paced back and forth, stopping every now and then to listen for any threatening sounds. It was possible there were still Englishmen about and she didn’t want to be
caught unawares. Several times, she thought she heard a twig crack as if footsteps were approaching and her nerves felt as tightly strung as the strings of a harp. Finally, her ears picked up the drumming of hooves on the ground and she hurried to hide behind a large tree trunk, trying to blend in with the shadows. A horse and rider rushed by, then stopped and turned so quickly, the horse reared up and flailed its front legs in the air.
‘Marsaili? Marsaili!’
The word was bellowed so loud she thought she might have heard it all the way back at Rosyth, which made her smile. She’d recognise that voice anywhere and stepped out from behind the tree, her legs trembling with relief. ‘I’m here, Brice. No need to shout.’
He jumped off the pony’s back and ran towards her, pulling her to him in another crushing embrace. ‘Marsaili! Thank God for that. I thought I’d gone the wrong way. It’s so damned dark here among the trees.’
He was breathing hard and she could feel his chest rising and falling against hers. It was a wonderful sensation and she briefly leaned her cheek on his shoulder, feeling like she had come into a safe harbour. ‘I just thought I’d better be careful, in case it wasn’t you,’ she explained, looking up at him. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’
‘Of course I’d come. If it was the last thing I did, I’d always come for you,’ he whispered. He stared into her eyes, searchingly, and asked, ‘If you’d want me to, that is. Do you?’
Although she knew he probably couldn’t see her all that clearly, she put her heart and soul into gazing back, then nodded. ‘Yes, most definitely,’ she breathed.
He closed his eyes in relief, then pulled her even closer and kissed her with almost savage intensity. His warm lips claimed hers as though he wanted to brand her, but she didn’t mind. It was what she wanted too. She was his, had been from the first time he’d kissed her, she thought. There had been no going back after that. She kissed him with equal ferocity, revelling in the feel of his tongue, the taste of him, the thrills which raced through her at his touch.
Highland Storms Page 29