by Louise Clark
The work would not end there. A landscape designer would be hired to create the ornamental gardens where nature and man’s work would be blended to make a pleasing vista of the parklands that surrounded the house. Though it would be years and endless hours of work before the house was finally completed, Thea didn’t mind. She and James had been given the opportunity to create a heritage for their sons and grandsons to cherish and defend. They were building for the future, not looking to the past, and for that Thea would not begrudge any effort.
As she neared the house, she saw her husband emerge from the opening where the front door would eventually be. Her heart gave a little lurch of pleasure. The feeling was still new enough to surprise her each time it happened.
A stocky, muscular man followed James from the entrywayâIan MacLonan, the stonemason. A fine craftsman, James had said, but as thickly muscled between his ears as he was on his torso.
A naughty smile flickered across Thea’s soft mouth as she remembered when James had said those words. It was one night, two weeks before. They were lying close together, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest, both spent in the aftermath of making love. James had just confided that he had hoped to have one wing of the manor house ready for them to move into before the winter, but he feared Ian, the stonemason, might slow the work and make that impossible. Once Ian grasped what was needed, he worked diligently and carefully, but making him understand took time and endless patience.
Thea remembered that she’d smiled with pleasure at her husband’s words, but had told him she’d gladly remain in the cottage through the winter. The small building would be easy to heat, and she had come to like the atmosphere of closeness the compact rooms created. But James was adamant. This was a gift, he had said, his gift to her to thank her and to please her. After that, the house had taken on a special, personal meaning for Thea, and she took a proprietary interest in every part of the construction.
However, at the sight of James and Ian, she deliberately slowed her hasty steps to an amble. The two men were arguing, if the expressions flickering across Ian’s face and the tension visible in the way James held his body were any indication. Whatever their disagreement, she wouldn’t interfere.
The argument was still going on, and Ian looked to be getting the worst of it, when Thea drew close enough for Ian to catch sight of her. Relief flooded his features, for he was able to use her arrival as a means to escape. James was glaring at the stonemason’s retreating back when Thea reached him.
She cocked her head, brushing the wide brim of her sun hat against her shoulder. “Is there a problem, James?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek, but he shrugged in a noncommittal way. “Not an insurmountable one. Ian miscalculated the amount of stone needed for the central archway because he misunderstood the drawings. It means another delay.” He looked down at her and grinned, his irritation dispelled by the sight of her. “Have you suddenly decided to take care of your fair skin, my dear? Or is this a sop to propriety?”
Thea peered up at him, liking the way his shirt of fine linen emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, while his dark kilt and plain white stockings showed off his muscular calves. On his feet were brown leather shoes, with only the plainest of buckles. The first time she had seen him dressed in the traditional Highland garment she had been a little shocked, but now she found she rather liked the way the kilt swung about his legs.
“Well, sir,” she said demurely, her dark eyes dancing, “last evening a certain gentleman of my acquaintance expressed decided criticisms of my bright cheeks, as he most unkindly described them.”
“Churlish fellow,” MacLonan commented, grinning.
Stifling an answering smile, Thea sighed in an exaggerated way. “Indeed he is, sir.” She allowed the smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. “But I do like to please him, so that is why I wear this hat to keep the sun from my face.”
Their gazes locked in wordless communication. “Damn it wife!” he muttered, “It’s the middle of the afternoon!”
Her eyes brimming with mischief, Thea retorted, “Then, James, perhaps you will be good enough to show me the improvements which have been made to our new home since last I visited.”
She put her hand on his arm. He tucked it securely in the crook of his as they began to stroll toward the house. “Wait until I get you alone tonight, Theadora MacLonan. You’ll regret your sauciness!” he said in a voice pitched deliberately low so that it would not carry.
She smiled, shot him a look from the corners of her eyes, and said huskily, “I doubt that, James,” then laughed again at his scandalized expression. Though he might make love to her in the privacy of their chamber with unbridled passion, when they were in public he treated her with the courteous respect he expected his clansmen to show toward her. Thea understood the need for this, but there were times when she couldn’t resist teasing him a little.
As they stepped through the half-finished doorway, Thea said, “James, a letter arrived from Edinburgh by courier not fifteen minutes ago.”
He looked over at her, a frown between his brows. “Good news, I hope.”
She turned, a brimming smile on her face. “Yes, indeed! My father writes that he and my family will be coming for a visit, if that is all right.” When James didn’t say anything, she added more soberly, “He promises he will not wear his uniform, James. They would like to come to see Glenmuir before they return to London.”
He stopped in the middle of the great entry hall. “London? Your family is leaving Edinburgh?”
“Yes, my father received orders that he is to assume a position at the Horse Guards.” She hesitated a moment, then said softly, “Do you remember the party we gave, the night I took you to my father’s study to talk?”
James smiled and his eyes warmed. “How can I forget? I almost didn’t attend because of the reason the party was being given.”
Thea dimpled. “My father’s promotion was only an excuse, James.”
“I know that now and I knew that then. That was why, in the end, I did go.”
“I am glad you overcame your reservations.” Their eyes met and held. James bent his head, almost as if he intended to kiss her, but at the last minute he drew away. Thea laughed. “Papa’s promotion is the reason that he is to return to London. Apparently he is to have some sort of position in the government. The family leaves in September, but first they would like to see us.” She added quietly, “And I would like to see them before they go away.”
He grasped her shoulders. “Did you think I would refuse to allow your family to visit, Thea?” Gently, he stroked a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Even if your father came in full regimentals, I would still welcome him to my house, because he is your father.”
“James,” she said softly, “I know how your people feel about the English, particularly members of the military. I don’t want to undo the progress you’ve made since your return.”
He shook his head. “The work I’ve done has been reinforced by your efforts, Thea. Don’t deny who you are, for no one else does.” He grinned. “Besides, it will do the people of Glenmuir good to see that not all Englishmen are dangerous marauders to be feared. Send the courier back with a note to your family, saying that we both look forward to their visit.”
Thea lightly touched his cheek in a tender gesture. More and more now, she felt that she and James were partners in the rebuilding of Glenmuir. Together they were reconstructing the valley for themselves, the family they would one day have, for the future. Life was very good.
She had no idea that on the Continent Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the Young Pretender, was indulging in a new game, one which would tear apart the careful world James and Thea were building, changing irrevocably the terms on which they lived and the ties which bound them.
Chapter 13
October 1750
“Summer’s over,” Morag said gloomily as she handed Thea a black beaver hat in the shape of a man’s tricorn
. “If you must go out today, my lady, you should wear this.” She held up a fine woolen cloak, trimmed with fur.
Thea laughed at the sound of disapproval in the other woman’s voice. “Morag, don’t fuss! I shall be fine. I’m only riding over to Maggie MacLonan’s farm to see if she is over that fever. It isn’t as if I’m planning an excursion to Edinburgh!”
“You’ve more than yourself to think of now, my lady,” Morag countered persistently. “You don’t want to go and do too much, now, do you?”
Thea laughed again as she adjusted her hat. In the mirror her eyes met those of her servant’s. “Morag, I’m perfectly healthy. In fact, I seem to have an unseemly amount of energy, once I get over the queasy stomach I have every morning.”
“But my lady! ‘Tis the heir you’re carrying! If Master James knew that you were roaming the countryside while you were carrying his babyâ”
“He’d wrap me in cotton wool and forbid me to lift so much as a finger. I know, Morag!”
Morag threw a cloak over Thea’s shoulders. “You ought to tell him, my lady.”
Thea suppressed a smile. There were times when Morag could not be stopped. “I will, Morag. Tonight. Now that I’m sure I’m with child I know he’ll be so happy.”
As happy as I am, she thought silently. She reckoned that she and James had made the child sometime during her family’s visit a month before. Somehow, that made the connection between her family, James, and Glenmuir all the stronger. Before the visit she had worried that her father would be treated with a bitter scorn by the MacLonan clansmen, but that had not happened. The people of Glenmuir had accepted him as their lady’s father and treated him with courtesy and respect.
The visit had been wonderful for Thea, even though the timing had been caused by her father’s reassignment to London. She had shown her mother and sister the designs for the new Castle, told them of the decorations she’d planned, and accepted her mother’s suggestions for other improvements, while James took her father about the estate. What had been said between the two men Thea did not know, but to her great delight, she could see the relations between her father and her husband become easier and more open as the days passed.
When the visit ended, she’d wiped away a tear as she watched her family leave, but James had wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against him, easing a little of her loneliness. Then, as her family’s beloved forms dwindled in to the distance, he’d whispered that next year they would visit London and spend some time with her family there. Thea had sniffed, buried her head in his shoulder, and cried softly. James hugged her closer, comforting her more effectively than he knew.
A week after their departure, Thea was beset by a gentle melancholy that was foreign to her nature. She told herself it was natural after being separated from loved ones, and with a great force of will continued about her business. Then the nausea started, followed by a break in her womanly cycle, and she realized she was with child. The sadness fled, replaced by euphoria. She wanted to dance and laugh and shout her condition to the world. Instead, she hugged the knowledge close and amused herself by choosing the perfect day on which to tell her husband.
Now she grinned at Morag. “Telling James he will soon be a father is for later, when we can be private. Right now I intend to ride over to Ben Lonan Farm and see how Maggie is faring.”
Morag shook her head. “Maggie MacLonan won’t thank you for your concern, lady.”
“I know that, Morag.” But winning Maggie over to her side had become a challenge Thea doggedly pursued. “I’d be a poor creature indeed if I allowed the bitterness of a much-wronged woman keep me from my duty.”
Morag shook her head. “Are you sure this is necessary, lady? There are rumors of soldiers about, looking forâcontraband.”
Thea bit her lip, suddenly feeling apart from the others in the valley. On Morag’s long, bony face was an expression of very real fear, which Thea knew she could never share because she was English and therefore protected from the danger, real or perceived, that the Highlanders faced. She said lightly, “The soldiers will not harm me, Morag, as you well know, and I must satisfy myself that Maggie can manage on her own. I should think poorly of myself if I allowed the chance of a patrol of soldiers to frighten me!”
“Still, lady, it would be best if you took one of the men with you. It is wise to be prepared.”
“Morag, you let your imagination run away with you. No one will hurt me here on my own lands!” At the dubious expression on the Scotswoman’s face, Thea suggested lightly, “I should be gone no longer than an hour and a half. You will know where I am and what I’m about. If it will relieve your mind, send one of the men after me if I have not returned in good time.”
Morag nodded seriously. “Aye, lady, I’ll do that.”
As Thea left the house, she thought ruefully that Morag would indeed send out a search party if she were a fraction of a second over the time limit she’d set for herself. And James, when he discovered the reason for Morag’s concern, would side completely with her. Thea chuckled to herself, not at all disconcerted by the scene she was creating in her mind. She had every intention of settling down and enjoying being cosseted by the man she loved and the people she’d come to feel respect and affection for. Tomorrow.
Firefly was already saddled and was being held by a groom outside the door. Thea patted the mare’s neck and fed her a carrot.
“Looks like we’re in for a bit of weather, lady,” the groom said conversationally.
Thea looked up at the sky. A solid bank of gray clouds allowed no blue to show through and hid the tops of the mountains. A misty fog filled the crevices and softened distant edges. Thea shivered. “Do you think it’s going to rain this afternoon, Fergus?”
He tossed her up into the saddle. “‘Probably not, lady, but you canna be too careful. Mind the mare’s footing if the weather turns bad.”
As Firefly, full of oats and energy, curvetted and tugged at the bit, Thea glanced at the lowering sky. With a rather grim amusement she decided that if the threat of marauding soldiery couldn’t keep her from doing her duty, then the mere possibility of bad weather would certainly not do so. She thanked Fergus and let the mare have her head.
As she rode, she passed a small croft. Smoke billowed from the chimney, cheering her immeasurably. If the weather became too bad she could always take shelter in one of the crofts. She had been in most of them over the past few months and was on respectful, if not friendly, terms with the occupants. It would cause more offense if she did not shelter in one than if she did.
Thea’s destination was the northern end of the glen where the land began to rise toward the encircling mountains. Ben Lonan cottage was located on a moor beyond the first ridge of hills, hidden from the rest of the valley and dangerously isolated for someone like Maggie MacLonan, weakened by fever and living alone.
As the path steepened, Thea let the mare slow her pace, but when they topped the rise she urged Firefly into a canter across the open, relatively flat moorland. It wasn’t long before Maggie’s little house came into sight, nestled in the lee of the towering mountain, Ben Lonan.
Across the open ground, near the quick running stream that flowed beside the cottage, a dozen horses were clustered, their riders dismounted and standing in a rough circle. Their coats were a vivid scarlet, marking them as a patrol of English dragoons. Somehow there was a menace in the way the men were standing that alarmed Thea. She slowed Firefly to a trot as she considered what she should do.
Most likely the men were simply watering their horses in the stream, using the opportunity to rest a few minutes before they continued. On the other hand, they were dangerously near Maggie’s croft and the woman, with her combative dislike of the English, might well say something to insult the dragoons, which could lead to unnecessary violence.
Thea wished James were here. As the clan chief, he had a right to know what government troops were doing in the area. And if the patrol was here because t
hey suspected wrongdoing, then James and the officer in charge would have to work together to sort it out. She ought to go and find James, but if she did, Maggie, with her bitter, often acid tongue, might cause an incident that would escalate into something no one wanted.
Suppressing a twinge of fear, the natural result of being a woman alone confronting a large group of unknown men, Thea dug her heels into Firefly’s side to urge the mare into a canter. But the closer she came to the cluster of horses, the more she wished she’d heeded Morag’s warning and brought a companion with her.
*
Maggie MacLonan didn’t hear the regular beat of a single horse’s hooves for she was too terrified to notice anything but the cold, pale gray of the English officer’s eyes and the icy touch of metal against her skin. In her mind she screamed the words Don’t hurt me! over and over, but her throat had closed and her voice was a mere whimper of protest.
She had come out of the cottage to fetch water from the stream. Since her illness, every movement, every action took twice as much energy as it should, and she had to force herself to carry out even the smallest task. She’d plodded out of her door lugging the heavy wooden bucket, first in one hand, then the other. At each aching step she railed against the injustice that had taken her man and sent him to a far-off land from which he would never return. If Dougal had been here he’d be the one doing the heavy chores, not Maggie. He’d look after her, protect her, help her. Life would be so much more than this endless struggle to survive.
At the stream she had to stop and rest, her heart was pounding so, while her breath came in short, hard gasps. Only then did she hear the sound of hooves and see the troop of horsemen cantering toward her. Panic kept her immobile and a cold sweat of raw fear prickled her skin. Soldiers. English soldiers. The bucket fell from her hands with a thud.