The Highland Rogue

by Amy Jarecki

  Kennan led the way, passing a wherry tucked behind the rocks. “It looks as if there might be someone about. Step lightly.”

  The scrub grew thicker as they traveled inland. Each man in the queue had his assigned checkpoint—Kennan took the nose, sweeping his musket from side to side. At his right flank, the man guarded the right quadrant and the next in line took the left and so on down the line, with the rear man sweeping the scene behind.

  A flicker of movement ahead made him stop. Pressing his hand downward, Kennan signaled for everyone to drop. Grunting came from beyond. The brush in front of him rustled.

  His heart hammering in his ears, Kennan set his musket aside, rose to his knee, and drew his dirk. If he had to kill a man, he damned well would do it without waking the dead.

  Footsteps grew louder, snapping twigs.

  Kennan tightened his grip on his hilt, readying himself to spring with deadly force. With a booming snort, a wild pig barreled straight into his path, followed by a mob of sows and piglets. But once the boar spotted him, the swine stopped and squealed, stamping its front feet.

  “Off with you,” Kennan growled, baring his teeth.

  The boar shook his head and backed off, then led his mob on a different trail.

  “Holy hellfire,” said Cuthbert from behind him. “I nearly shite meself.”

  Kennan smirked over his shoulder, imagining their entire mission being foiled by a passel of hogs. He wiped a hand across his mouth and collected his musket as he stood.

  It took about an hour to reach the base of a small crag, right behind the narrows. Kennan took three of his best fighting men and ascended the rocks. Taking cover behind an enormous boulder, he peered out over the promontory. Just as he suspected, five enormous blackened iron cannons stood pointed at the inlet. And two of Vane’s guards sat atop one of the barrels.

  “’Tis a boon Captain Finnes sailed in today,” said a pirate. “I can smell the pork roasting from ’ere.”

  “I can smell the women.”

  Dirk in his fist, Kennan motioned for Cuthbert to follow. Silently, they crept behind the cannon.

  One of the guards emitted an ugly laugh. “Nothing better—rum, a good meal, and a saucy wench moaning beneath me.”

  With a burst of speed, Kennan reached over the cannon’s barrel and slit the throat of one pirate while Cuthbert did the same.

  Kennan stood and wiped his blade on his victim’s shirt, the bile churning in his gut over what he’d heard. “Finnes is a notorious slaver. Word is he used to sail under Vane until he bought his way out. No wonder he’s here.”

  The sailor sheathed his weapon. “Do you think Vane’s planning to sell Davy?”

  Kennan cringed. He hadn’t told the crew about Divana’s disguise. “The lad’s a lass. I had her dress as a cabin boy for her protection.”

  “Och, we all kent that, sir. We just reckoned ye didn’t want us to know ye’d fallen in love with her.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Are ye planning to marry Miss Divana?”

  Good Lord, how long had they known? The only person he’d been fooling was himself. “Hold your tongue. We’ve only managed step one of the plan. We mightn’t make it through till dark and you’re yammering about bloody weddings?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Kennan pulled out his spyglass and spotted MacNeil and the team across the way. The boatswain used his hands to signal that they were off to cross the sandbank to the north as planned. Panning the glass out to sea, Kennan spotted the Lady Heather making her turn. He used the sun to make a flash that would be seen by Lachie Mor and Runner in the crow’s nest. She’d be crossing through the straits within the hour.

  And when she did, Kennan and his band of men would be ready to pounce.

  Chapter Thirty

  Divana stood against the rear wall of her prison and stared at Dubois, Vane, and the master of the slave ship, Captain Finnes, an older, portly man. The buttons on his waistcoat strained over his rounded belly. Atop his head he wore a tricorne with gold cording. Muttonchop whiskers sprouted on the sides of his face, and his jowls flapped when he talked.

  And at the moment, Finnes eyed her from head to toe with a hardened glare. “She’s untouched, you say?”

  “I am convinced of it.” Vane leaned his shoulder against the cage. “Besides, who gives a damn? She looks pure, and that’s what will matter when she’s standing on the auction block.”

  “The bidding will turn rabid,” said Dubois, rubbing his pudgy hands. Of course he’d say anything if it meant he’d have a chance to ruin Kennan.

  Finnes beckoned with his fingers. “Move closer, girl. I want to see what I’m purchasing.”

  Divana gripped her arms across her midriff and shook her head. “I’ll never yield to the likes of ye.”

  Vane drew his musket and aimed it at her heart. “Move your feet, wench, else I’ll put a ball of lead in your belly,” he said, his face bearing the grin of the devil. “’Tis a slow death, being shot in the gut. Painful as well.”

  Clenching her arms tighter, she inched forward to the sound of Claude Dubois’s snigger. She leered at the Frenchman. “How’s the gap in the front of your smile feeling? I never kent Sir Kennan was so efficient with a pair of tongs.”

  “Tais-toi!” Dubois swung a slap through the bars, but she was faster, ducking away from his reach. “Your arrogant beau is not long for this world. And I’ll have the last laugh whilst I watch his woman being sold to a malicious master.”

  Divana opened her mouth to issue a retort, but Finnes reached in with the speed of an asp and gripped her chin. Hard. He forced her head from side to side. “She’s marked. They won’t pay a premium for that.”

  Vane tugged the bow from her hair, making it fall about her shoulders. “They will when they see her red tresses. How often do you find hair as lustrous as burnished copper. Just look at how it glistens in the sun.”

  “Hmm.” Finnes released his grip. “The hair will help, but ’tis too short. I’ll give you sixty pounds.”

  “Sixty?” Vane asked incredulously. “She’s worth twice that.”

  “On the block, mayhap, but what about my profits? And I’m the one who has to feed the wench.”

  Divana skittered against the wall, jamming her fists into her hips. “Stop talking as if I’m nay here.”

  “Your life isn’t yours,” growled Dubois. “And ’twill never again be.”

  Vane smirked and shoved Captain Finnes in the arm. “Come, let us discuss the terms over a tankard of ale.”

  Shuddering, she watched them walk away. Dubois lasciviously flicked his tongue at her before he followed.

  “It appears as if you’ll be leaving this fine establishment soon,” said Petey, laughing at himself. “At least ye’ll be off my ’ands. I only regret I won’t be there to watch when they sell ye into bondage. Ye won’t be so ’igh and mighty then, will ye?”

  Divana spat on the ground—wishing she was unmannerly enough to spit in his face. She absolutely could not leave Jackson’s Hell with Captain Finnes. If she smacked Petey with a rock, she might escape her cage, but then where would she go?

  “When is your next adventure?” she asked, trying to sound civil. The more she knew about Vane’s plans, the better.

  “Why would ye care?”

  “Why did ye become a pirate?” she countered.

  “Ye ask too many questions.”

  “Och, Vane and his pirates have stolen a king’s ransom. Why continue to plunder?”

  Petey rubbed his loins. “Coin is made round to go around. The merchants earn it, we take it—spend it on women, gambling, and drink. Once it’s gone, ’tis time to find another victim.”

  Ye wretched, lawless scoundrel.

  “Is that what happened with the plunder from Captain Cameron’s ship?” she asked.

  The blackguard smacked the cage door, making it rattle. He drew a dagger and clanged it between the bars. “Shut your bloody gob, or I’ll cut out your flappin’
tongue.”

  Divana turned her back, the walls closing in around her. This was the end. If she didn’t do something, she’d never see Kennan again. Such a notion was unthinkable. Captain Finnes would be sailing on the morrow or the day after. She had no more time. Making her decision, she tapped the rock with her toe. Come dark, she’d make her escape—and then she’d improvise. Now all she must do was bide her time.

  But when the blast of cannons shook the ground, she gripped the bars and looked toward the sound. Her pulse raced. Her breath swelled in her chest as one thought consumed her mind. Kennan!

  “What the—” said Petey. He hopped to his feet and gaped in the direction of the blast.

  Moving like a cat, Divana tugged the slingshot from beneath her skirts and scooped up the rock. It took one forward lunge to slip her arm out the latticework and hurl the stone straight at the base of Petey’s skull. The brigand dropped to his knees and froze for a moment, near enough for Divana to reach the keys on his hip—right before he fell on his face.

  Muskets cracked above the shouts of men while the cannons continued to boom. Whoever had come to do battle was an enemy of Jackson Vane and thus a friend of hers.

  * * *

  A fly landed on Kennan’s nose while he hid in the brush, waiting for his chance to attack. Blowing upward, he didn’t dare swat the annoying insect away. The mosquitoes and midges were sucking his blood like vampires as well, yet one errant twitch might draw the attention of the blackguards only paces away. Gulls screeched overhead while the hammer from a smithy shop clanged.

  Laughter came from the center of the village, if a man could denote such a civilized name to this mishmash of run-down huts. Though he’d oft been called a pirate, Kennan had never considered himself low enough to be one. Not like these disgusting louts. They were lazy, rank barbarians without a scruple among them.

  Kennan’s sweaty fingers slipped on the oiled steel of his musket. He scanned the positions of his men. All were ready. Even MacNeil’s party had moved into place, each one of them dying to scratch the welts forming on any exposed skin.

  Where the hell are you, Lachie Mor?

  The thought had barely skimmed through his mind when the blessed sound of cannon fire reverberated across the isle.

  Pushing to his feet, Kennan raised his musket to his shoulder and took aim. “Fire!”

  Crack, crack, crack! The battle began. Stunned pirates darted about the hellhole, grappling for their weapons. Kennan ran forward with his bayonet, taking out a brigand wielding a pair of flintlocks.

  “Reload,” he shouted while the Lady Heather continued to pummel the shore with cannon fire.

  Attacked from the flank, Kennan spun, crashing the butt of the musket into the forehead of his assailant. Drawing his sword, he swung the blade in a figure eight, his gaze darting through the mayhem. Where is Divana?

  Pulling his dirk, he surged forward, taking on pirate after rotten pirate.

  Brigands materialized from nowhere as he battled onward, thrusting with his dirk, defending with his sword. Three men ambushed him head-on, making him blindly step backward. God only knew what was coming from behind.

  “I’ll send ye to Hades now, Cameron,” growled a deep voice. By the hairs prickling on Kennan’s nape, he had a fraction of a second to turn. He sliced his sword, driving two away and cutting down a third.

  As he spun, he aimed an upward strike to the body of the blackguard behind. Out of the corner of his eye came the glimmer of shiny steel. Time slowed as he bobbed, yet he knew with his next blink he’d feel the cold blade of a pirate sword slice through his flesh. Gnashing his teeth, he fought on, thrusting his dirk into the belly of a murdering fiend. When he sidestepped to take on another, the killing strike didn’t come. His foe dropped to the dirt, bleeding from his head.

  “Och, I thought ye’d never come!”

  The voice at his side was soft and gentle, like none he’d ever heard in battle. And he knew exactly who had saved him.

  “Thanks for having my back, lass,” he shouted, protecting her from attack, sending another brigand to hell. As the fighting ebbed, Kennan managed to give Divana a wink. “You haven’t exactly been easy to find.”

  She swung her slingshot over her head and released a stone. “Thank heavens for Bannock.”

  “Miserable dog.”

  When there was no one left wielding a weapon, Kennan pulled Divana into his arms and kissed her. “Are you all right, lass? Did they harm you?”

  “Only me pride.”

  She was warm and wonderful, and though she’d been through a terrible ordeal, sunshine radiated around her. “Thank God.” If only he could hold her like this for the rest of his days. “I’m going to take you back to Scotland and—”

  “Haste!” She thrust her finger toward the shore. “Look at the skiff! Dubois is spiriting away with Captain Finnes—the slaver who paid a measly sixty pounds to auction me to the highest bidder.”

  Kennan grasped her shoulders and held her firm. “Can you keep out of danger?”

  “Och nay! I just found ye.” She took a cutlass from the ground. “I’m not leaving your side for a single moment.”

  She grabbed his arm and tugged. Bloody hell, if he left her alone, she’d most likely end up at the wrong end of a pirate’s dagger.

  “Come, men,” Kennan shouted, taking Divana’s hand, running for the shore. “Charge your muskets!”

  The lass pointed her sword. “They’re heading for the carrack.”

  A handful of his men barreled ahead, muskets in hand.

  As they neared, Kennan pulled Divana behind him to keep her from being hurt. “Shoot to kill, men!”

  The first man to reach the shore kneeled and took aim.

  Crack!

  Claude Dubois clutched his heart and crashed into the water.

  The oarsmen quickened their rowing as two more men took aim.

  “I call quarter!” bellowed Captain Finnes, throwing up his hands.

  Kennan pointed to the skiff. “Bind and gag them all.” He turned full circle. “Where is Vane?”

  Runner came out of a hut, leading a woman at knifepoint. Bless the dog, Bannock was growling at her heels. “He’s gone, sir. This woman said he ran off with two of his men.”

  “Yellow blackguards, the lot of ’em,” cackled the wench. “Cap’n always makes everyone do the work whilst he sits back and enjoys the spoils.”

  The Cameron men led Finnes and his crew onto the beach.

  “Hold them here.” Kennan took Divana to the skiff. Damn it all, now that he’d found her, he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight for a second. “’Tis time to board that carrack and unload her cargo. Mr. MacNeil, come with us.”

  By the time they boarded the slaver, Lachie Mor had already moved the Lady Heather alongside her and had what was left of her crew under arrest. No surprises, they were a downtrodden lot, most likely men who’d come from the jails and had accepted a pittance for pay.

  “Are ye aiming to hang Cap’n Finnes?” asked one.

  Kennan ignored him. He headed straight for the hold and threw back the hatches.

  “Beg your pardon, sir,” said one of the crew. “The ’old’s empty.”

  Thank heavens for small mercies. Though he would have freed any captives, it was a blessing to have none aboard.

  Still, he eyed the man. “Then why is she sitting so low in the water?”

  The man didn’t answer.

  There was treasure hidden below decks for certain. “Mr. MacNeil, select your crew and sail this heap of worthless timber to Scotland.”

  “Me, sir?”

  “Aye, you. If you’re willing.”

  “Absolutely, sir. Straightaway.”

  After the plans for MacNeil’s voyage were settled, and they were alone on the deck, Divana took Kennan’s hand. “We mustn’t tarry. I ken where the Highland Reel is, and if my guess is right, Jackson Vane is heading there now.”

  Her words were like heavenly music. He drew the las
sie’s fingers to his lips, closed his eyes, and kissed her knuckles. “You found my ship, mo leannan?”

  “I did.”

  “I’ve always thought you were astounding, but now there is no doubt. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye, you amaze me at every turn. You’re smart and saucy, and you make me feel as if the sun is always shining in my heart. I love you, Divana. I’ve been in love with you from the moment I saw you digging for clams on the shores of Hyskeir.”

  With a catch in her breath, her eyes twinkled. “Ye love me?”

  “More than anything.”

  She grinned, making his heart swell. “I love ye as well, Kennan. More than ye ken.”

  He kissed her, savoring the moment, running his fingers along silky fabric.

  Silky?

  “What the blazes is this?” he asked, pinching her sleeve.

  She scowled. “Vane’s attempt at preparing me for the auction block.”

  Kennan’s gut clenched. He wanted to wrap his fingers around that varlet’s neck so badly, bile burned his throat. “I must go after him. He cannot demean my woman and slip away like a snake.”

  “Are ye certain about that?” A bit of mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I reckon ye may change your mind.”

  “Oh?”

  She stepped very near and raised her lips to his ear. “When he told me to don this dress, he left me in the captain’s cabin. ’Tis a good thing ye taught me to read some, ’cause I pored over his charts. Not only is there a fortune on the Silver Mermaid, Vane has treasures hidden up the ‘strand of pearls’ that make up this chain of isles.”

  Kennan threw back his head and laughed from his belly. “God, woman, I love you!”

  Chapter Thirty-One