The Watchman gave a small bow. ‘Thank ye, Miss Munroe. I will wait outside whilst Mary assists ye. I suggest that she remain with ye for the rest of the night.’
Jessie nodded. MacTaggart’s face might be battle scarred and ferocious looking at first glance, but he had kind brown eyes. She was inclined to take him at his word. ‘Thank you for yer kindness, sir. I am verra grateful. I will be sure to commend you to the earl an’ to my father.’
MacTaggart bowed his head. ‘Tapadh Leibh.’ Thank you.
Before Jessie closed the door she had one last question. Her throat was so tight, the words barely came out. ‘Where will they take Lord Lochrose?’
The Black Watchman met her eyes directly. ‘To the barracks here and tomorrow, to Edinburgh … and the Tolbooth. I will do wha’ I can to help him, but now there are dragoons involved, I’m verra afraid tha’ it willna be enough to save him.’
And that’s what Jessie dreaded too.
* * *
After Robert had been taken away by the dragoons, Simon impatiently scanned the taproom for MacTaggart. No doubt the man was still upstairs locating Jessie for him as he’d instructed. Robert had denied that Jessie was here at all. In fact, he’d insisted that she’d taken the public coach from Grantown-on-Spey. But Simon knew it was a lie.
Jessie was here, he sensed it. It was only a matter of minutes before he would have the girl all to himself.
He downed Robert’s discarded whisky in one gulp and headed for the inn’s upstairs rooms. Gaining the head of the staircase, he spied MacTaggart standing before one of the doors. Excellent. The Watchman had found her. Simon’s balls grew heavy and tight with anticipation.
‘That’ll be all, MacTaggart. I’ll take care of Miss Munroe from here.’ Simon held his hand out for the key to the room but instead all he received was a stony-faced glare from the burly Black Watchman.
Impatience spiked. ‘MacTaggart. Give me the damn key.’
The Watchman stared back, clearly unfazed. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Grant. Miss Munroe has retired for the evening. Her attending maid informs me that she willna be available to meet with ye until tomorrow morning.’
‘Damn you to hell, MacTaggart. What are you playing at?’ roared Simon. ‘Step aside and open the fucking door.’
The door to the bedchamber suddenly cracked open a fraction and a timid mouse of a maid slipped out. ‘Mr Grant, M-Miss Munroe says she will receive ye … as long the door stays ajar and Captain MacTaggart stays close by.’
‘I’ll have you stripped of your rank for this, MacTaggart,’ Simon uttered savagely under his breath as he pushed roughly passed the captain and the serving girl, into the room beyond.
Jessie was seated in a wing chair before the fireplace. She sat ramrod straight and fully dressed, her chin upraised, eyeing him with defiance. Oh, how he would enjoy wiping that look from her face. He raked her with a deliberately lewd gaze before casting a meaningful look at the rumpled four-poster bed. ‘Shame you’re not still abed, Miss Munroe. But no matter. I’ll soon have you back there.’
She didn’t respond, just raised her chin a little higher, her eyes glittering.
Anger flashed through Simon, hot and fierce. He threw himself into the armchair opposite Jessie, leaning back with his legs extended, his booted feet crossed at the ankle. He rested his chin on his steepled fingertips and through narrowed eyes, studied her. Her face was pale except for two flags of bright colour across her high cheekbones. Good. Despite her outwardly holier-than-thou manner, he had rattled the little bitch.
But he wanted to cow her even more. When he spoke, he imbued his voice with soft silken menace. ‘I have a proposition for you, Miss Munroe. Spend the night with me and do my bidding … or I shall have you arrested by the dragoons and thrown into a cell for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive.’
* * *
I’ll spend the night wi’ you when pigs fly.
Jessie bit back the retort and glared at Simon, her anger smothering her fear. She’d had enough of this man’s bullying and whilst she had the advantage of MacTaggart’s support, she intended to show some backbone. Having Robert’s dirk in her hand beneath the cover of her skirts also emboldened her. Thank heavens he’d left it behind on the washstand.
Simon picked at non-existent lint on his cuff, obviously affecting a nonchalance he didn’t feel; a muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘I’m waiting for your answer, Miss Munroe. I don’t have all night. What’s it to be?’
Jessie gripped Robert’s dirk tighter, grateful for the feel of the cold steel hilt in her sweat slickened palm. Her voice, when it emerged, shook only a little. ‘You’d best send for the dragoons then. I would much rather sleep on a cold stone floor wi’ lice an’ rats as companions than spend one more moment with you.’
She’d pushed him too far.
With a growl, Simon launched himself from the chair and leaned over her, his hands on the arms of her own chair, his face inches from hers. Gasping, she recoiled away from him. At these close quarters, she could plainly see the aftermath of Robert’s punch along his jaw. It reminded her that Simon wasn’t all powerful.
Courage, Jessie. She firmed her grip on the dirk. She would use it against him if she had to. No matter the consequences.
‘Now listen to me you little b—’ began Simon.
‘No, you listen to me,’ returned Jessie, so furious she could spit. ‘I suggest you move away from me at once, or I will summon MacTaggart to arrest you for threatening assault.’ She instinctively knew she would be able to count on the good captain for aid.
Simon instantly pushed himself away and glared at her, his rage barely contained. His hands were bunched into fists and his grey eyes flashed with ice-sharp anger. He reminded her of a wolf about to attack its prey.
Despite her trembling legs, Jessie stood and faced him, the dirk still in her hand. She had something else she needed to say, and she would do so at eye level. She would not cower before him. ‘I think you should also know, that this very morning, your father hand-fasted Robert an’ I. As soon as Robert is pardoned by the Lord Advocate—and he will be—yer brother an’ I shall be wed. And I’m sure Lord Strathburn would be none too pleased with you, if he was to hear tha’ yer behaviour towards me, as my future brother-in-law, was nothing less than exemplary. Dinna you agree?’
‘Well, haven’t we done well for ourselves, my dear Jezebel?’ Simon’s voice was silken again. A narrow smile, like a grimace twisted his thin lips. ‘I was right about you all along. You are nothing but a greedy, grasping harlot.’
He stalked toward the door but then paused with his hand on the latch and looked back at her. His parting shot chilled her to the bone. ‘But what will become of you, Miss Munroe, when my brother’s head is on the chopping block? I’ll still be here … waiting. Remember that, won’t you, my dear, as you fall asleep tonight.’
* * *
Braemar Castle Garrison
‘I’d bid ye good night, milord, but I ken ye willna have one.’ The dragoon’s gruff laughter echoed about the stone walls of the completely bare Braemar castle tower—Robert’s prison for the night.
Well, that’s hardly surprising. Robert sighed heavily and tipped his head back against the rough bricks behind him as the soldier slammed the heavy, wooden, iron-studded door shut; he already knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep during what was left of the night.
It wasn’t so much the biting coldness of the air around him, or the hard stone floor beneath him that destroyed any hope of rest, but rather the nauseating fear and acrid self-recrimination that clawed his insides to pieces. His surroundings brought to mind his long ago confinement in Lochroses’s wine cellar. Only this time, there was no chance of drowning himself in whisky in a feeble attempt to deaden the dark, disturbing train of his thoughts.
His worst nightmare had come to life; he’d been captured and tomorrow he’d be transported to the Edinburgh Tolbooth, God help him. And may God help those he cared about.
What plagued Robert the
least was thoughts of his own mortality. He’d stared the spectre of Death in the face countless times before. Indeed, since Culloden and for three long years afterwards, Death had been an ever present companion. No, he’d made peace with the idea of dying long ago.
What he couldn’t bear was the overwhelming sense of failure that swamped him; indeed it crashed down upon him down so heavily, it felt as if he could no longer draw breath, and that his heart had been crushed to a lifeless, flat stone within his chest. If he was found guilty of treason and then executed, it would spell certain disaster—Simon was nothing but a drunken, self-serving lecher, and Lady Strathburn was as rotten and avaricious as Lady Macbeth herself. There was no doubt in his mind that they would ruin the estate; they would destroy his father and lay waste to the clan as surely as a contingent of dragoons on a rampage would do. The clansfolk would be cleared from their villages and crofts, the land sold. And Jessie … God, Jessie!
After he’d been hauled from the taproom by the dragoons and then out into the night, Robert had not seen hide nor hair of Simon. Which probably meant his despicable brother had gone after Jessie, just as he’d threatened. Bile burned the back of Robert’s throat and his gut clenched. If Simon harmed a single hair on Jessie’s head …
He struck his fists against the unyielding stone flagged floor, perversely taking joy in the sharp pain ricocheting up through his protesting knuckles.
Jessie was strong, capable and smart. But would she be able to fend off Simon if she was caught unawares? Sweet Jesus, when Robert had left her, she’d been sleeping soundly in their bed …
I’m still as thoughtless and hot-headed as the upstart I was a decade ago. I’ve learned nothing. I let my balls get in the way of rational, strategic thinking and let complacency get the upper-hand. If anything happens to Jessie, it’s all my fault …
It was a useless enterprise attempting to stem the hot slide of tears down his face. Tears of guilt, shame and desperate anger. Of all the things Robert had done wrong, this was the one thing he would never be able to forgive himself for—failing his sweet, sweet Jessie.
He dashed his shirt sleeve across his eyes. The Redcoats had taken his jacket when they’d searched him for weapons. His father’s letter, his only hope of salvation was gone. He prayed that it had been given to Captain Slater—he seemed like a reasonable man, despite the fact he was a Sassenach; he would take note of the seal of the Earl of Strathburn and the intended recipient of the missive, the Lord Advocate himself. Perhaps the captain had done so already; this tower room might be as icy as Hades and devoid of furniture, but at least Robert hadn’t been chained up in some dank, filthy dungeon. On the surface, it appeared to be a concession of some kind.
But if Father’s letter falls into Simon’s hands …
Robert closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the familiar swirling of black despair in his chest. Hope. He must remember there was hope. God knew why, but his father still believed in him. And didn’t he owe it to his father and the clan, and to Jessie, not to give up?
When pale, tremulous morning light began to filter in through the small, barred window above his head, and the rusty scrape of bolts being drawn back dragged him back to full alertness, Robert had already firmly engraved his resolutions into what was left of his heart. I will not die. When I get out of this, I will be the son I should have been. The leader I want to be. I will honour my commitment to Jessie. And with God as my witness, I will make sure Simon never hurts her or anyone else again …
Chapter Twelve
After MacTaggart’s departure, Jessie spent several fruitless hours trying to rest—fear for Robert’s safety constantly needled at her brain, making sleep impossible. The innkeeper’s daughter, Mary, seemed to have no such trouble; more than a few times, Jessie had cast an envious glance over to the young maid sleeping soundly in a narrow pallet bed beside the four-poster.
Eventually Jessie had given up on sleep altogether and had spent the rest of the night in one of the armchairs before the dying fire. She’d tried to piece together some sort of plan to help Robert, but in the end, she knew there was nothing she could accomplish on her own in the dead of night. Liberating Robert from a locked cell in a castle garrison was definitely an impossible feat.
At the back of her mind, a prickle of a thought had also irritated—why had Robert left her alone in the room? MacTaggart had told her that Robert had been arrested in the taproom. She prayed Robert didn’t regret their physical encounter and was having second thoughts about being hand-fasted to her. Surely he wouldn’t abandon her here and head to Edinburgh on his own.
She quickly dismissed her paranoid notions, however, when she looked around the room and noted several of Robert’s possessions—a shirt, his saddlebags and of course his dirk. He wouldn’t have left all of these things behind if he had been intending to leave. There must be some other logical explanation for his departure. Perhaps he’d simply wanted a drink. Whatever it was, worrying about it further wouldn’t help the situation.
Eventually Jessie determined that even though travelling alone would be dangerous, there was no other real course of action open to her, except to return to Lochrose to inform Lord Strathburn about Robert’s plight. She prayed the earl would be well enough to journey to Edinburgh to plead Robert’s case to the Lord Advocate in person.
She also hoped to God that when she did set out, Simon would be heading in the opposite direction—to Edinburgh. If she encountered him alone on the road somewhere … She shuddered and pushed the gut-wrenching thought away. It just didn’t bear thinking about.
As soon as dawn broke, Jessie gathered up her satchel and what remained of Robert’s belongings with the help of Mary, and then descended to the inn’s vestibule—to find a young Black Watchman waiting.
‘Miss Munroe,’ he said with a polite bow. ‘My name is Corporal MacGillie. I hope ye dinna mind, but Captain MacTaggart asked me to escort ye safely to Edinburgh. He also said to let you ken tha’ he believes Lord Strathburn is travelling to Edinburgh also, but through the Drumochter Pass. Wi’ any luck, we might meet up wi’ his lordship on the road south of Port-na-Craig.’
‘Oh.’ Tears pricked Jessie’s eyes at the knowledge MacTaggart was still looking out for her. She had not expected such support and suddenly felt quite overwhelmed. ‘Thank you.’
‘’Tis no trouble, miss. It seems Lord Lochrose settled yer account last night when ye arrived, an’ I’ve had yer horse brought round already. So if ye are ready to leave …’
Jessie nodded, swallowing back her tears. ‘Aye, of course, Corporal MacGillie. Let us be on our way.’
* * *
They made good time. The road south of Invercauld was much better than the previous stretch Jessie had travelled along the day before with Robert, so she and MacGillie managed to reach the outskirts of Port-na-Craig just as dusk was descending.
They had started to round a bend in the road in a wooded stretch by the banks of the river Tummel, when Jessie heard the unmistakable crunch of carriage wheels approaching. She slowed Blaeberry’s pace and had just pulled onto the grassy verge when a fine carriage pulled by four fine bays appeared around the corner.
As the carriage drew alongside, Jessie immediately noticed the Strathburn coat of arms emblazoned on the oaken carriage door. Relief surged, especially when she sighted Lord Strathburn peering out at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Within a few moments, the carriage had drawn to a halt and the earl’s man, MacGowan, had jumped down from his position beside the driver and had thrown open Lord Strathburn’s door.
‘Miss Munroe, my lord would see you,’ he called.
Jessie urged Blaeberry over to the carriage and MacGowan helped her to dismount.
‘My dear, Miss Munroe, come inside at once and tell me what has happened,’ urged the earl, his face creased with anxiety. ‘Where is Robert? Dear Lord, has Simon intercepted you?’
‘Yes milord, I’m afraid so.’ Jessie took a seat in the carriage opposite the grey-f
aced gentleman and a glowering Lady Strathburn. She noticed the earl had a white-knuckle grip about the silver head of his walking stick and there were dark shadows beneath his worried eyes. Whilst relieved to have come across Lord Strathburn so soon, Jessie was also saddened to be the bearer of bad news. Lady Strathburn remained silent, her lips drawn tight in a thin line, her gaze as grim and unwelcoming as any Highland granite peak.
Jessie ignored her and turned back to Lord Strathburn and explained all that had transpired. ‘Captain MacTaggart thinks Robert will be taken to the Tolbooth,’ she concluded.
‘I think he may be right, my dear,’ said Lord Strathburn on a deep sigh. ‘I only pray that the dragoons do not mistreat him. Do you know what happened to my letter addressed to the Lord Advocate?’
‘It was no’ with Robert’s things at the inn, milord,’ replied Jessie. ‘I believe tha’ Robert kept it in his coat. He must have had it with him when he was arrested.’
‘Perhaps it will help him in some small measure until I can speak with Lord Arniston myself,’ said Lord Strathburn. ‘It was foolhardy of me to send you both away on your own, especially after your,’ he glanced briefly at Lady Strathburn before returning his gaze to Jessie, ‘inopportune encounter with Simon before you left Lochrose. I heard everything. And as soon as Simon declared that he would pursue you and Robert, I knew I must follow straightaway. I may be frail, but I simply cannot let Simon play judge, jury and executioner all over again.’ The earl leaned forward and squeezed Jessie’s hand. ‘You have been very brave to come this far.’
Jessie smiled. ‘Thanks to you an’ Captain MacTaggart, I have been well looked after. After Robert was taken, MacTaggart arranged for Corporal MacGillie,’ she nodded to the young Watchman outside, ‘to escort me the rest of the way to Edinburgh.’
Lord Strathburn nodded. ‘MacTaggart is a good man. I’ve always been able to rely on him to do the right thing. Thank God I managed to get word to him about what was afoot before he and his men left Lochrose. Even so, I wonder that you did not have more trouble with Simon.’
The Master Of Strathburn Page 21