Wolf, Joan

by Highland Sunset

  "And then you went to Cambridge?"

  "Yes. I was at Cambridge while you and Niall were knocking down sand castles with your ponies. Then I went to France and to Italy. I came home when my father died."

  "How did he die?" Van asked quietly.

  "He was kicked in the chest by a horse. It must have punctured a king, or something of that nature. He died a few days later."

  Van's arm tightened around his waist. "Did you miss him?" she asked softly.

  "No." He smiled down at her, thanking her for the comfort that was not needed. "I saw very little of him when I was growing up, sweetheart. He was not a man for children. My mother missed him, though, and I was sorry for her." They had reached the entrance to the loch. He turned to look once more out at the sea. "I would like to be more important to my children than he was to me," he said quietly.

  For some absurd reason, Van felt as if she were going to cry. "You will be, m'eudail," she said. "You will be."

  The following day a message came to Edward from a Campbell militia regiment stationed near Mallaig, that the prince had crossed to the mainland. Flora MacDonald was a prisoner on Captain Fergusson's sloop Furness and MacDonald of Kingsburgh had been arrested and was on his way to Fort Augustus. Edward was advised to look out for the prince in Morar, as it was believed he was accompanied by Niall MacIan.

  The message from Niall came to Van early on the morning of July 9. Lachlan MacIan was the bearer. Niall had come to his father's cottage in the middle of the night, he said. Van would find her brother at the cave.

  "There is someone with Mac mhic Iain," Lachlan added in a low voice. "I was to tell you he has brought the prince."

  Van wondered if she looked as sick as she felt. "Thank you, Lachlan," she managed to say calmly. "I will let you know if I need you."

  Edward was writing letters in the office when Van, dressed in trews once more, took a pony and some food and headed for the cave at the head of Loch Morar.

  Niall was keeping a lookout and saw her before she saw him. She gave a visible start of surprise when he rose before her out of the heather.

  "Niall!" she said. Then, as the full magnitude of his appearance struck home, "Dhé! You look awful!"

  Niall looked down at himself. He wore an incredibly ragged kilt and extremely dirty shirt. His hair had grown and he had a beard. But his eyes were laughing at her and his smile was the same and she slid off her pony and ran into his arms.

  "I've been so worried about you," she said fiercely.

  "We have been leading them a merry dance, never fear," he said into her ear. Then, urgently, "Tell me, Van, did Mother go to Jeannie?"

  Van nodded. "Aye. She did, Niall. And they are in Rouen now, not Paris. Mother writes that all is well."

  "Thank God." He smiled at her a little crookedly. "We had a chancy time of it, and I would not like to think of Jeannie being alone should I be caught."

  Van felt her stomach clench. If Niall should be caught... "We have been trying to get to Morar for weeks," she heard him saying. "If we can only go to earth somewhere quietly, the hunt may move elsewhere."

  She hoped he could not see that she was shaking. "You want to stay here?" she managed to ask.

  "Aye. You wrote to me that there would be no government forces in Morar. Is it so?"

  "So far. Of course, everyone knew the prince was in the Isles. Now that you are back on the mainland, the hunt will concentrate here." She stared at her brother out of troubled eyes. "Edward just received a message from the militia near Mallaig that you are to be looked for in Morar. It is known that you are with the prince, Niall."

  He was frowning. "Are the government sending troops to Morar or are they relying on Linton?"

  Van answered slowly, "I believe they are relying on Edward for the present. He has no love for the prince, Niall. He would turn him in if he knew he was here."

  "Well then," Niall said as he gave his sister his most charming smile, "we will just have to see to it that Edward does not know." He took her arm. "Come along now, and greet your prince."

  Charles looked almost as ragged and dirty as Niall, but he greeted Van with a grin and made a joke about his beard. "I have not had the opportunity to shave since I discarded Betty Burke," he said with a laugh. Charles's two-week beard was redder than his hair and his shirt was actually dirtier than Niall's

  "I brought you some food," Van said. "I see I also should have brought some clothes."

  "We have four shirts between us," Niall said cheerfully. "The other two are wet from yesterday's rain."

  Van brought the food into the cave and watched as the two young men ate hungrily. After they had finished she asked them to tell her about their escape from the Long Island. Niall obeyed, with interjections from the prince, and Van listened in cold horror as she realized for the first time how perilously close they had been to capture. Charles and Niall made it sound like a schoolboy's adventure, but she knew all too well that what they were describing was a matter of life and death.

  "Flora MacDonald and MacDonald of Kingsburgh are made prisoners, did you know that?" she asked when the story was concluded.

  The prince looked distressed. "No. I did not know that."

  "Mother wrote to me that Cumberland has come down hard upon the Highlands." Niall's voice was grim. "Are things quieter now?"

  "No." Van's face was strained. "Cumberland is at Fort Augustus and he is as busy about his work of devastation as ever. They have herded all the cattle they can find into the fort and they are selling it to agents from England."

  "Dhé!" said Niall. "Without cattle the clans will starve."

  "My husband has imported food from Ireland," Van said clearly. "The fist shipload of meat, butter, cheese, and salt came last week. The Sea Queen has since gone back to Dublin for another cargo."

  "Your husband?" said Charles. "The Earl of Linton?"

  "The Earl of Linton." Van stared into her brother's eyes. "Edward went to see the Duke of Argyll and the duke agreed to allow the food to be distributed in Lochaber and Badenoch."

  "Mac Cailein Mhor agreed to that?"

  "Aye. He is a Campbell, but he is Highland. He does not believe in starving innocent people."

  "And what of Cumberland?" asked Niall

  Van answered slowly, "I do not believe the Duke of Cumberland was consulted on the matter." Niall gave a sour smile.

  The prince spoke. "The Earl of Linton may be a Whig and an enemy, but I applaud his humanitarian-ism, my lady."

  Van gave Charles a long and enigmatic look. Then she said quietly, "Thank you, your highness."

  As she made ready to leave some time later, Van asked Niall, "For how long do you plan to stay here?"

  "For as long as we can," came the disconcerting reply. "My hope is that they will concentrate the search elsewhere and the French will get a ship in to us."

  Van's face was very pale. "Niall, I cannot come out here too frequently. I promised Edward I would not assist the prince, and if he ever finds out what I am doing..."

  Niall frowned at the look in his sister's eyes. He could not ever recall seeing Van looked like that. "Are you afraid of him, then?" he asked incredulously.

  "What I am afraid of, Niall," she replied, "is that, should he find out that I have betrayed his trust, he will never forgive me." The expression on her face was indescribably desolate.

  There was a long, heavy pause. Then, "I am sorry, my sister, to put this burden on you," Niall said soberly. "But our duty to our prince comes first."

  Van looked at her dearly loved brother and did not tell him that what she was doing was not for the prince's sake but for his.

  CHAPTER 29

  Edward was not at the castle when Van returned. Morag told her that he had received a message that the food they had sent to the Loch Arkaig area had been confiscated by government troops who were in the area to search for the prince. Edward had taken Alan Ruadh and gone to see what could be done to get the supplies back.

  Van was relieved s
he did not have to face him so soon after seeing the prince and Niall, but felt doubly guilty knowing he was out on a mission of mercy.

  He did not come home that night. Van put together a package of more food and a collection of her father's shirts and kilts to send out to the cave with Lachlan. On the theory that the fewer who knew about the cave the better, Lachlan was to be their only messenger. He had fought bravely at Culloden and was devoted to Niall. Lachlan was safe.

  Van did not see Edward until almost eight o'clock the following evening. She was sitting alone in the great drawing room, a book she was not reading in her hands, when the door opened and he came in.

  His boots were dirty and his cheek was scratched. "Dhé, Edward!" Van said, her book dropping unregarded into her lap. "I was beginning to worry about you."

  He did not kiss her but came to drop wearily into the big chair that used to be her father's. "Christ," he said, "my feet." He stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked at her. "A horse. A horse. My kingdom for a horse," he quoted humorously.

  He looked so long and large, stretched out there in her father's chair. "Morag said you went to Loch Arkaig?" she asked tentatively.

  "Yes." He smiled at her, the slow, deliberate lazy smile that she had come to know meant he wanted something. "I'm starving, sweetheart," he said. "Alan and I have had nothing to eat all day but a little oatmeal."

  Van jumped to her feet. "I'll order you some meat and bread," she said, and went to pull the bell rope.

  Morag appeared almost instantly with a large tray laden with food. She set it on the table before the empty fireplace and Edward said, "I think we could have a little fire too, Morag." Van watched with secret amusement as Morag moved to pile the wood expertly onto the hearth. The clan MacIan, she thought, with centuries of distrust of the Sassenach bred into their bones, had all fallen neatly under Edward's spell.

  Van watched him eat while she sipped a cup of tea. Finally, when he had finished, he poured himself another glass of wine and said, "There were about five hundred troops at Loch Arkaig looking for the prince. It was thought that he might have tried to join Lochiel."

  Van spoke out of a constricted throat. "Is Lochiel at Loch Arkaig?"

  "I don't know. Possibly. At any rate, the country is being closely searched."

  "And the food?"

  Edward put his wineglass down so hard that a little of the deep red claret splashed onto the polished wood. He stared at the fire and appeared not to notice. "The food that had not yet been distributed was in Ewen Cameron's cottage near to Achnacarry—or the remains of Achnacarry. The soldiers confiscated it, which was why Ewen sent for me."

  "And did you get it back?" Van asked.

  "Yes."

  Van deduced, from the set of his mouth, that his encounter with the military had not been pleasant. "What happened, Edward?"

  He shrugged and did not meet her eyes. "The captain was a bloody little sod," he said. "Kept quoting his orders to me." His eyes finally swung around to her face. They were a brilliant blue. "I'll tell you this, Van," he said softly but with contained violence, "I was not proud to be an Englishman this day." Then he pushed back his chair and went to stand by the chimneypiece, one hand on the mantel, looking down into the fire. "At any rate," he continued, "the food has been restored and will continue to be distributed." There was a long pause. Then, "The Camerons have been hit very hard," he said.

  "As the MacIans would have been were it not for you." Van stared at her husband's back, her heart filled with turmoil. He had done so much for them. The thought of the cave and its inhabitants scalded her with guilt, yet what else could she do? Edward had said there were five hundred troops in Lochiel's country. "Where else are the soldiers looking?" she asked. "Do you know?"

  "There are patrols ail over the areas about Loch Quoich and Loch Eil, I believe," he replied. "They have information that the prince came ashore at Mallaig, so that is the area they are searching most carefully." He was still staring into the fire. "Van, if Niall is taken with the prince, there will be little I can do."

  And that is precisely why I am hiding him from you, Van thought a little hysterically. She bit her lip and said with forced calm, "I understand that, Edward," She got up and went over to him by the fire. Putting her arms around his waist, she laid her cheek against his back and murmured, "If you've finished your wine, let's go upstairs."

  As she watched him undress in front of the small bedroom fire, she asked, "How did you scratch your cheek?"

  "A branch caught me." He grinned at her. "Alan tells me I am becoming as good a mountaineer as a Highlander, though."

  He stripped to the waist and Van looked at him, at the breadth of his chest and shoulders. His arms were tanned, and the V at his throat where he had taken to wearing his shirt open. His hair had bleached to the color of ripe wheat. He looked back at her, smiled, and stretched himself like a giant cat. "I will never grow accustomed to sleeping on the hard ground wrapped only in a plaid," he said. "That bed looks very good," He began to cross the floor. "And so do you."

  "I doubt that Niall has seen a bed in months," she said before she could stop herself.

  He halted as abruptly as if he had walked into glass. Then, "It is by his own choice, Van," he answered slowly. "My offer to get him away to France still holds good."

  "But he will never go without the prince, Edward! Don't you see that?"

  His eyes were steady on her face. "I see it. Perhaps I even understand it. But there is nothing I can do about it, Van. It is his choice. He will have to live with the consequences."

  "Or die with them," she said bitterly.

  He regarded her with courteous interest. "Are you by any chance asking me to help the prince to escape?" His voice was polite, curious, as if the question was of little importance to either of them. She did not answer but her eyes dropped, unable to look anymore at that carefully courteous face. "If it were at all possible, you know," he continued pleasantly, "I would kidnap Niall and forcibly send him to France. I am well aware that his shadow stands between us, and that it will continue to do so for as long as he remains in danger. But there are some things a man may not do—even for the woman he loves. I gave my word to the duke not to assist Charles Stuart to escape. I have many faults, Van, but betraying my word is not one of them."

  Van wished she had never brought up this subject. The memory of her own promise to him was vivid in her mind. He would never forgive her if he found out what she had done. But he was right. The shadow of Niall stood between them. More than he knew. She felt possessed by a devastating hopelessness. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed and now she stood up and took a step toward him. "Oh, Edward," she said sorrowfully.

  He caught her in his arms and she pressed against him, running her hands up and down the smooth broadness of his back. It was as if her hands had released a dark flood of hot passion in him; she felt it, felt it sear into her. Half-fainting, she let herself be lifted up in his arms and carried to the bed.

  Niall and Charles remained at the cave for over a week. The area surrounding Morar was crawling with government troops and Van knew she could not even suggest that her two dangerous visitors should try to leave. Morar was for the moment the only safe refuge from the hunters.

  Then, on July 16, ships appeared in Loch Morar. Van was working in the vegetable garden when Donal came running to tell her the news. "They are coming up the loch, Lady Van!" he cried. "Six of them. Big ships, my lady; very big."

  Van put down her trowel. "Where is Lord Linton?" she asked.

  "Up the glen looking at cattle, my lady."

  "Get him, Donal," Van ordered. Donal took one look at her face and fled.

  Dhé! Ships in Loch Morar! And Niall and the prince only a few miles away. They must be warned to stay in the cave. Van looked around. "Maire," she called to the girl who was working with her, "fetch me Lachlan. Immediately."

  Maire ran and Van herself began to walk swiftly back to the castle, her heart thudding s
o hard it took her breath away. What could this mean? She entered the castle through a side door and went to her room to tidy up. If she had to confront English troops, at least she would do it looking like a lady.

  She changed her dress and smoothed her hair and went to wait for Lachlan in Edward's office. "Thank God," she said as the slender, dark clansman came in the door. "Lachlan, go out to the cave and warn Mac mhic Iain to keep inside, that there are enemy ships in the loch. I will get more information to him when I can, but for now he is to remain inside!"

  "Aye, my lady."

  They would never see Lachlan from the water, Van thought as the clansman moved swiftly away. He was like a shadow, silent and stealthy and insubstantial. He would warn Niall.

  Now that she had got the message safely off to Niall, she wanted Edward. Where was he? She went to the window half a dozen times and the last time the sight that met her eyes froze her blood. A great war ship was anchoring off the shore right in front of the castle. Van watched, petrified, as a boat was lowered and men were rowed to the shore.

  Dhé! They were coming to the castle. Where in the name of God was Edward?

  It was a white-faced Morag who brought her the news. "My lady, General Campbell would like to speak to you."

  Van raised her chin. "I will go to the drawing room, Morag. You may show him up in five minutes."

  "Aye, my lady," replied Morag, whose eyes were twice their usual size.

  Van was sitting in her mother's chair, her back ramrod straight, her head high on its lovely long neck, when General Campbell came into the room. She saw his eyes go around the huge, beautiful drawing room before they came to rest on her. Van had chosen her setting quite deliberately. Let the Campbell see he was not dealing with ignorant peasants. She stared him straight in the eye and asked coolly, "And to what do we owe the honor of this visit, General?"

  He crossed the floor toward her, over the Persian rugs, past the Titian portrait of one of her ancestors, and stopped before her chair. Van did not ask him to sit down.