Rose In Scotland

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Rose In Scotland Page 29

by Overfield Joan


  Hugh flushed slightly, embarrassed at having been caught paying such poor attention. “My apologies to you, General,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. “I fear I was not attending. What did you say?”

  The general peered at him reprovingly. “Civilian life has made you weak, Sergeant,” he reproved. “You used to pay far better notice at our briefings.”

  Hugh’s flush deepened. “I am sorry, sir.”

  “Never mind, lad, I shall overlook it this time. What I said was that what was needed here was a board of inquiry, such as we hold in the army. No better way to learn the truth of what occurred, and ferret out the guilty party. I will help you.”

  “That is all right, General Burroughs,” Hugh said, although he thought the suggestion a good one. “As it happens, I already have a good idea as to the guilty party’s identity. Unfortunately I fear he has already left the country.”

  “The devil you say!” the general exclaimed, incensed. “And who let him get away, I should like to know? I cannot imagine you being so derelict in your duty as that.”

  Hugh didn’t know how to answer that, for he greatly feared he was to blame. Had he paid more mind … His head snapped up as he caught the sound of the door to the anteroom being closed. He shot out from around his desk, his dirk in his hand as he rushed toward the door. The general also leaped to his feet with surprising nimbleness, considering his advanced age and poor health. A deadly-looking pistol was in his hand, making it plain the older man was still every inch the seasoned campaigner.

  Hugh motioned him to one side, carefully wrapping his fingers around the door’s handle and gently easing it open. His field of vision encompassed most of the small room, and when he saw it was empty he eased further into the room, his eyes scanning for any sign of an intruder. There was nothing.

  “What is it?” General Burroughs asked, peering around as well. “Enemy spies, do you think?”

  “Perhaps.” Hugh kept his dirk at the ready as he moved on to explore the withdrawing chamber next to the anteroom, only to find it empty as well. “And perhaps I was only imagining things.”

  The general gave a loud sniff and pocketed his pistol. “Never known you to be the imaginative sort,” he said, his expression glum. “Always did have ears as sharp as a hound. Well, what’s next? You’ll be posting sentries, I’ll warrant?”

  Hugh nodded, thinking it a wise precaution, and one he obviously should have employed before now. He tried to think if either the general or himself had said anything of a sensitive nature regarding the attack, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they had not. He was about to suggest they return to the study when he suddenly froze in horror.

  What if whoever had been lurking in the anteroom had heard the general’s remarks about Caroline? he thought, an icy feeling of sickness settling in his stomach. On the surface it didn’t seem so incriminating, but dear God! The damage it could do should Caroline ever hear of it!

  “MacColme?” The older man was regarding him with anxiety. “I say, lad, are you all right? You look dashed queer, if you don’t mind my saying so. Is there something you’re not telling me?” he added with a suspicious scowl.

  “What?” Hugh stared at him blankly for a brief moment, and then gave himself a mental shake. “No, sir,” he said, taking a firm control of his wild emotions. “I was but wondering if Caroline was awake. I know she will be delighted to see you.”

  “As I will be happy to see her,” General Burroughs said, a fond smile softening his features. “But it’s doubtless best to let her rest. Gunshots can be the very devil to recover from, you know. I recall back in sixty-three when I was fighting my way out of an Iroquois ambush …” And he went on reminiscing about one of the bloodier battles of his illustrious career.

  I am inquiring if you have kept your end of our bargain. Is Caroline with child as yet?

  Her grandfather’s words echoed in Caroline’s mind with the cruelness of a lash. For as long as she lived, she knew she would never forget the horror of hearing the casual words that had shattered her world beyond any hope of repair. How she got out of the anteroom without being violently ill, she knew not. As it was, she barely reached the safety of her own room before grabbing the slop jar and disgracing herself thoroughly.

  The maids rushed to her side at once, hurrying her back into the bed they had just made. While one helped her out of her clothing, the other offered to send for her husband, but she refused so vociferously they quickly withdrew, leaving her in blessed peace. The moment she knew herself to be alone she gave in to tears, weeping so hard she was sick a second time. When it was over, she collapsed against her pillows, too weary to think.

  Under such circumstances she would have thought sleep to be an impossibility, but she hadn’t reckoned with the demands of her ripening body. When she next awoke, her first thought was that it had all been a dream—a hope that quickly died when she opened her eyes to find her grandfather sitting beside her bed.

  “Well, good afternoon, poppet,” he greeted her with an indulgent smile. “ ’Tis about time you have decided to honor us with your presence. It’s gone past noon, you know.”

  “Grandfather?” Surprise seemed the safest emotion to feign, and so she allowed herself to act startled to see him. “What are you doing here?”

  “And where else would I be, after MacColme informed me of what happened?” he chided, a puzzled look stealing into his eyes. “What is it, child? Aren’t you pleased to see your grandpapa?”

  She managed an edgy smile. “Of course I am,” she lied, and knowing there was no hope for it, sat up and gave him a hasty embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said, withdrawing as quickly as she could. “I fear I overdid things yesterday, and am paying the price for it today. I only ask that you not confess as much to my husband,” she added with a credible chuckle. “He will only lord it over me for having been proved right.”

  “Ah, like that, is it?” he replied, giving her hand a paternal pat. “Never fear, dearest. I am an old hand at keeping mum. Your secret is safe with me, I promise you.”

  Caroline listened in silence to her grandfather’s chattering, resentment and fury rising like bile in her. She want to scream and rage, to lash out at Hugh and her grandfather and make them hurt as much as they had hurt her. Instead she merely smiled and nodded, her expression growing warmer even as her heart iced over with bitterness.

  “But listen to me rattling on when you are looking so pale and tired,” her grandfather concluded, rising to his feet. “You ought to have sent me packing, my dear, with a boot to my rear.”

  “Oh, no, Grandfather,” she said, grimly pleased with her newfound ability to smile and lie at the same time. “I was enjoying listening to you talk. I have missed you.”

  “And I you, little one.” He bent to deposit a quick kiss on her cheek. “But I am still making myself scarce before that fierce Scot you married comes in here and whacks off my head for keeping you from your rest. He is very worried about you, you know,” he added. “When he heard you had taken to your bed he was all for sending for the physician at once, but that sour-faced aunt of his said there was naught wrong with you sleep couldna cure.” His credible imitation of Aunt Egidia won a genuine chuckle from her.

  “Where is Hugh now?” she asked, praying she wouldn’t have to face him just yet. She needed time to harden her heart against him, and feared she might burst into tears at the sight of him.

  “Riding off to visit one of his tenants, I believe he said. A friend of his father who has only just returned from the north. He offered to let me accompany him, but truth to tell, I am feeling the smallest bit fagged myself, and believe I shall have a bit of a lie-down. My heart is not what it used to be, I fear,” he admitted, sighing as he patted his chest.

  Caroline felt a sharp stab of concern, but she ruthlessly cut off the errant emotion. “Perhaps that might be wisest, sir,” she said, contriving to look worried. “I wouldn’t wish you to become overly tired.”

 
; “I am sure I shall be fine after a few hours’ rest,” he assured her. “Which reminds me, shall we be seeing you for dinner?”

  The thought of eating food with the two men who had so viciously betrayed her made Caroline fear she would disgrace herself yet again, but she choked it down. “We shall see,” she prevaricated, a daring plan beginning to form in her mind. “I believe I shall rest just a little bit longer. That way perhaps I shall feel more up to joining in the festivities.”

  “A wise plan,” he approved with a nod. “Shall I leave word you are not to be disturbed? That way you can sleep secure in the knowledge no one else will wander in to chatter at you.”

  “What an excellent notion, Grandfather!” she said, beaming at him in unaffected delight. “I would appreciate that very much.”

  “Consider it done,” he said, patting her hand one final time before taking his leave, closing the door firmly behind him.

  The moment she was certain she was alone Caroline rose and cautiously made her way to the washstand to wash her face and hands. She needed to think, and she would do a better job of it when she was feeling fully alert. After she had restored her appearance to some semblance of order she began pacing, seeking refuge from her pain in plotting how best to get away from the castle without being discovered.

  The plan had actually come to her while she was standing in the anteroom, listening to the destruction of the fragile world she had built for herself. Running away was a solution that was vastly appealing, but because of the shooting, it was a solution she rejected out of hand. Had it just been herself she might have been willing to take the risk, but she had another life depending on her now, and there was no way she would risk her babe to an assassin’s bullet.

  But there was no assassin now, she thought, remembering Hugh’s words. The man he believed responsible wasn’t even in Scotland any longer, and if her uncle was innocent of attempting to hurt her as her grandfather insisted, then it meant the danger to her had passed. She was free to leave without fear of another ambush, and after a moment’s hesitation that was precisely what she decided she would do.

  Fleeing from her uncle’s had given her experience in how such things were done, and she began packing with ruthless efficiency. Using the cloth valise she’d seen on top of the wardrobe, she packed only one change of clothing, deciding she could purchase whatever she needed once she reached Edinburgh. With that thought in mind she hurried over to the safe Hugh had shown her hidden in the wall, and removed large piles of banknotes and several pieces of jewelry. She had no idea how long it might be necessary for her to hide, and she wanted to make certain neither she nor the baby would lack for anything.

  Once that was done she dressed quickly, donning one of her oldest and plainest gowns, and covering all with the plaid wool cloak Mairi had woven for her. The MacColme plaid, she thought, treacherous tears burning her eyes at the sight of the gray and lavender stripes. She blinked them back, and tightened the cloak about her. She would buy another when she reached Edinburgh.

  Finding a way to sneak from the house proved more daunting than she feared, for there seemed to be men everywhere. She was chewing her lip and weighing her options when she heard the sound of a footstep behind her. She whirled around and found herself facing Lucien Raghnall.

  “Good day to you, Lady Caroline,” he said, his gaze going to the valise in her hands. “Are you going on a journey?”

  Caroline shifted her valise from one hand to another, trying to think of some plausible tale to spin, but her imaginative powers seemed to have deserted her. She was no closer to finding an answer when he asked, “Do you need a ride into the village, perhaps? If so, I should be happy to offer you one.”

  “Yes! The very thing!” she cried, scarcely able to believe her luck. “Something has arisen which requires my immediate return to Edinburgh. I should be most grateful for your help,” she added, lowering herself to flutter her lashes at him like a coquette.

  He stared at her for several seconds before responding. “Aye,” he said at last, an odd look on his face. “I suppose as a loyal friend to your husband, the least I might do is see his wife safely from Loch Haven. Aye,” he said again, and gave her a dazzling smile. “Very well, my lady, if that is your wish. ‘Twill be my pleasure to be your escort. Shall we go?”

  “Keir Labhruinn shot yer wife?” James Callamby spat out the sip of ale he had just taken, his blue eyes wide with shock. “Christ, man, is it sheep cacc ye have for brains? However can ye believe such nonsense?”

  Hugh frowned at his father’s old adviser’s reaction. He’d expected shock, aye, but shock over the deed, not over the perpetrator’s identity. And Callamby wasn’t shocked, he realized in mounting confusion; he looked as if he considered it a rare joke. “I have it on good authority he was heard speaking ill of my wife,” he said, wondering what the devil was going on. “He disappeared a day or two before Caroline was shot, and his musket went missing with him as well,” he added grimly, lest James fail to take in the significance of his words.

  “Aye, in times like this who doesna travel wi’out a flintlock at his side?” Callamby said, and then shook his head. “For all the good it would do Labhruinn. The lad is accounted the worst shot in the whole of the glen. He couldna hit the walls of the castle was he standing four feet from them. And as to his going missing, so he did, wi’ Flora MacGregor’s father hot on his heels. It seems the father to her bairn was a good sight closer than the loch,” he added with a knowing wink.

  Hugh raised a shaking hand to his head, trying to make sense of the thoughts rioting in his heads. “But Lucien told me it was Labhruinn,” he said, a terrifying suspicion making him sweat. “He told me the lad hated my wife …”

  “Raghnall.” Callamby gave a contemptuous snort. “He’s the one to harden the people’s hearts agin yer wife. I warned him more than once to mind his viper’s tongue. I remarked it odd, I remember, for he seemed to think so well of you. And your wife is so sweet and lovely, who couldna love her, even if she is English,” he added with an apologetic shrug.

  Hugh sat in silence, so many things he had seen but not understood now becoming appallingly clear. When Lucien had joined the search on the day of the shooting, the alarm had scarcely been sounded, but he was already armed, a musket cradled in his arms, Hugh remembered, swallowing a ball of nausea.

  “That son of a bitch!” He shot to his feet, his face set with rage. “It was him! It was him all along!”

  “Raghnall?” James echoed, and then a resigned expression settled on his face. “Aye,” he said, sounding every one of his sixty-plus years. “Aye, it makes sense. It makes a terrible sense.” He studied Hugh grimly. “I’ll ride wi’ ye,” he said, pushing to his feet to stand beside him. “Ye’ll need a witness to the duel to swear ye dinna kill him in cold blood.”

  They started toward the front door of Callamby’s modest home when it flew open and Mairi dashed in, her hair in wild disorder about her face. “Hugh, Caroline is gone!”

  The room dipped and swayed so alarmingly, Hugh feared he would swoon. He grabbed Mairi’s arm, holding tightly and blinking his eyes until his graying vision cleared. “What do you mean, gone?” he asked, clinging to what remained of his control with an uncertain grip. “She is missing, do you mean?”

  In answer Mairi nodded her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes,” she said, swiping at her cheeks with unsteady hands. “ ’Tis Lucien, Hugh,” she whispered brokenly. “Oh, I am so sorry to hurt you like this! I know he is your dear friend, but I saw them myself. She had a valise with her, and he helped her on his horse and they rode off together!”

  “Where?” He shook her, panic clawing at him and making him wild. “Which way did they ride?”

  “To the west, toward the cairns,” Mairi replied, managing to sneak in quick hug. “Does this means you will ride after them?”

  “Aye.” He turned to Callamby who was already conferring with three of
his strapping, grown sons. “James, notify the men, and begin the search. He is to be located, but nae killed. No one kills him but me. Is that plain?”

  “Aye, laird.” Callamby nodded solemnly. “My oath to you, my life for yours; I swear this.”

  Hugh accepted the ancient vow of allegiance, then turned back to his sister who was starting to look more than a little confused. “At the castle, who knows of this?” he demanded.

  Mairi’s frown deepened. “Aunt Egidia,” she said. “And Caroline’s grandfather. He was readying himself to ride when I came in search of you.”

  “Ride back and tell them I want the men assembled,” he said decisively. “Have them divided into parties to begin the search.”

  “Aye,” Mairi promised, and turned to go.

  Hugh grabbed her arm and swung her back to face him. “Tell them this as well,” he added, his voice as cold as his soul. “If they find them, they are not to hurt Raghnall. Make certain they understand that. Raghnall is mine, and I shall be the one to kill him.”

  They hadn’t been riding for more than half an hour when Caroline began to suspect something was amiss. Granted her sense of direction wasn’t well-developed, but she specifically remembered that one rode down the mountain to reach the village, and for the past fifteen minutes Mr. Raghnall had been riding up, further into the sharp crags of gray rocks jutting into the sky. Perhaps he knew a shortcut, she told herself. But when they left the rough road and began riding in open country, she decided it might be prudent to say something.

  “Mr. Raghnall,” she began cautiously, knowing how tender was men’s pride on such matters, “I do not wish to appear critical, but are you quite certain you have not mistaken the way? I believe the village to lie down there.” She gestured in the direction from which they had just come.

  In answer he tightened his grip about her waist. “I am not mistaken, my lady,” he said, something in his voice making her frown. “I know precisely what I am doing.”

  They rode in silence for several more minutes, her sense of unease growing ever stronger. Evidently she had misjudged Mr. Raghnall’s credulity, she mused. He had evidently tumbled to her scheme, and was returning her to Hugh instead of aiding her in her escape. But if that was so, wouldn’t he have turned around by now? They were a good three miles from the castle, she judged, going higher into the mountains where the shooting had occurred. The realization sent a frisson of fear through her, and she had an abrupt change of heart.

 

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