A Highlander's Gifted Love (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 9)

by Emilia Ferguson

  Chlodie sat opposite Adeline at the table at the inn. The candle on the table burned down, its orange flame casting shadows on both of their faces. Chlodie leaned forward, taking Adeline’s hand where it lay on the chipped wood of the table surface.

  “Adeline..?”

  “What?” The woman blinked, and Chlodie saw that she’d been miles away, not listening. She felt her heart beat faster, and tried to still her sense of worry.

  “I said, do you think we should see if the men are back yet?”

  “Oh. Yes,” Adeline said mechanically. A plate of neeps, half-eaten, sat in front of her. Chlodie felt a growing sense of alarm. Adeline hadn’t eaten much all day. She was in a state of shock, clearly. Chlodie felt at a loss. Seer she might be, but she was not a healer.

  I’ll just have to do as best I can.

  She took a shaky breath. She wasn’t too sure how she felt about herself as a seer, either. What if this was all some crazy misunderstanding?

  Domnall saw the youth on the edge of the camp. It all fits together: my vision, his story. Why am I doubting myself?

  She shook her head, took another breath, and stood.

  “Adeline? You need some help..?”

  “I’m fine,” the woman said softly. She walked like someone night blind, slowly and unsteady. Chlodie walked beside her, and together they headed downstairs.

  The noise coming from the taproom was rowdy and uncouth. Chlodie heard drunken roars and whistling and shuddered, glad she’d insisted they eat in the parlor reserved for the gentlefolk. It would have been dangerous to do anything else.

  She cast a nervous glance at Adeline, and then went to the door. The place was lit with a roaring hearth fire, and laborers and farmers crowded round the tables, flagons of ale in their hands. One of the women serving ale made some comment, and the fellows roared. Chlodie stiffened, the sound feral, hitting her like a blow.

  The innkeeper hailed her as she peered around the door frame into the taproom.

  “Milady!” he called. “Can I be o’ assistance tae ye? Best not tae set foot in there.” He hurried over, a frown on his brow. Relieved, she nodded mutely.

  “Two men,” Adeline said succinctly to the innkeeper, “soldiers, both. Are they in there?”

  The innkeeper gave her a bewildered glance. Chlodie cleared her throat.

  “The men who were with our party when we arrived, earlier.” She added an explanation. “Are they here?”

  “Not yet, milady.” He shrugged, ruefully. “I’ll send Fran up with a message when they arrive. Best ye go back, see? I don’t want any trouble here.”

  Chlodie shrugged, helplessly. She turned to Adeline. “Best if we…”

  “Chlodie!”

  “Domnall!”

  She saw him appear in the doorway, face ashen. He was running, shoulders lifting with the smooth motion. When he saw her, he stopped dead in the doorway, a look of relief on his face.

  She felt her heart stop. He’d been running, clearly, for his face was damp with swear, and his hair was plastered to his brow. Behind him, Bethann leaned on the door frame, panting and sweating.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Milady, we had to run. Our band is under attack.”

  “My son!” Adeline turned on him, eyes huge. “You saw my son?”

  “Milady, yes,” Domnall said.

  Chlodie closed her eyes, feeling herself sway in place. They really had? The vision was accurate? She could scarce believe it!

  “Tam!” Lady Adeline’s eyes were round. “Where is he? Did you talk to him? What said he...?”

  “I had no chance to speak with him, milady,” Domnall said. “I asked him if he was Tam, son of the earl of Alrae, and he said yes. That was the only thing I said before they arrived.”

  “They?”

  “The soldiers,” Domnall shook his head. “Government forces, red coats. Fifty men, mayhap more. I didn’t stay to count. We have to go back,” he added, resting his palms on his knees, drawing in fresh breath.

  “My son,” Adeline whispered. “He’s never fought in a battle. He can’t stay…” She gripped Chlodie’s wrists and drew her to her, desperate. “We have to stop this!”

  Chlodie shook her head, mutely. She understood her anguish. However, what could they do about it? They couldn’t stop anything!

  “I agree.”

  Chlodie stared at Domnall, who’d spoken.

  “What?” she asked.

  Blowing his nose on a handkerchief, he straightened up and nodded to Lady Adeline.

  “We have to stop this,” he said again.

  “If only we had reinforcements,” Bethann opined.

  “Aye,” Domnall nodded slowly. “If we did, we could surround them. But, failing that, we have to do something. This has to be put a stop to.”

  “But, Domnall...?” Chlodie frowned at him, eyes huge. To stop an uprising? How could they? Four people, two of them gentlewomen? What could they possibly do, to change matters?

  “We cannot win,” Domnall said. “McLammore’s crazy. I always knew that. Right now, we haven’t the men or the artillery left to stand against the Hanoverian soldiers. To try, at this stage, is daft.”

  “Mad as a brush,” Bethann said, supportively.

  Chlodie nodded slowly. “What can we do?”

  “Make a diversion,” Domnall said.

  Chlodie could see him thinking, scanning the room. She saw the moment when the idea dawned on him.

  “What?” she asked, as he drew in a sudden in-breath.

  “The men!” he gestured to the rowdy inn room. “They can create a diversion!”

  “What...?” Chlodie frowned. She could feel Adeline hanging onto her wrist, fingers digging into it like talons. She ignored it, focusing her attention on Domnall.

  “We don’t need reinforcements,” he continued, happily. “We just need them to think we have them.”

  “Aye!” Bethann nodded, seeming to instantly understand his ideas. “If we could…”

  “Hey, men!” Domnall called in through the door. “How do you feel about a fight?”

  Chlodie stared at him, horrified. What did he think he was doing? She turned to Adeline, and it was her turn to feel a chill of pure terror.

  If the men think he’s challenging them, they will kill him!

  She gripped her friend’s hand in mute terror. Adeline folded her own hand over hers. Together, they stared into the taproom, silent.

  The room was very quiet.

  Chlodie held her breath. All eyes were fixed on Domnall. The men were all tensed, angry glares fixed on Domnall. He stood, upright and proud as ever, the light bringing out the red of his long hair.

  The tension lasted a heartbeat longer. Then, one of the men, a solid-looking worker with shoulders the width of the doorway, stood. He turned to Domnall.

  “A fight, eh?”

  “Yes. A chance to stand up for who you think is king.”

  Chlodie looked at him, terrified. She waited for the cries of denouncement, the threats, the derision. None came.

  The man who had stood up raised a brow. He cleared his throat, and spoke.

  “Go and boil your bollocks,” he opined.

  The room exploded into laughter.

  Men howled with mirth. Somebody raised a tankard and lifted it in salute. The rest followed. Soon the silence was broken, replaced instead with drunken roars and the sound of fists slapping the boards, mixed with the sound of cheering.

  The heavily-built man shot a long look at Domnall, then demonstratively turned his back and sat down again.

  That was that.

  Chlodie watched them all turn back to their meals, and drinks, the plight of their group forgotten. She could have wept.

  They could have helped us! Now we’re all surely doomed.

  She turned away, ready to admit defeat.

  “Free drinks! And as much neeps as you can eat.”

  Chlodie stared. Adeline had stridden into the room. Dark hair loose, t
he flame light washing it with red-gold highlights, she stood, straight-backed and tall.

  “I’ll buy a round for every man who fights. No questions asked.”

  Men turned and stared. The room fell silent again. Then somebody stood.

  “I’ll do it.”

  The others watched as a day-laborer, solidly-built and compact, lumbered to the door. He stood at Lady Adeline’s shoulder.

  “I’ll fight for you, milady.”

  “Good.”

  Adeline’s grin was sharp in the flame light. She turned to the rest of the room, arm raised.

  “Who else stands with me?” she said.

  Silence.

  For a minute, Chlodie held her breath. Twenty pairs of eyes looked back at her. Men looked at Adeline, and she looked back. She stood, tall and unbowed, black hair lifting in the fire’s heat.

  A chair scraped on the boards. A man stood.

  “I’m with you, milady.”

  “Good on ye, Alec!” somebody yelled. “Show them redcoats how it’s done.”

  Silence followed. Then, to Chlodie’s utter amazement, a chair scraped back across the floor. The big laborer who’d insulted Domnall first, stood up.

  “Och, bollocks,” he said. “I’m with Alec. Who’ll join me, eh?”

  Cheers followed. Men exploded out of their seats, whoops and yells filling the room. Before Chlodie’s disbelieving eyes, the entire taproom, from the most able-bodied to the most riotously drunk, crossed to stand beside Adeline.

  She turned to Chlodie, her face bright with triumph.

  “Are we ready?” she asked.

  Amidst cheers of assent, she turned back to the group.

  “Right, then,” she said. “Off we go.”

  Chlodie stared as the group wheeled round, Adeline at their head, and stormed to the door.

  She caught Domnall’s eye. Grinning and elated, he nodded to her.

  “We’re ready, now,” he said.

  Together, they walked to the door and through it, out into the windy night.

  Chlodie shivered and drew her cloak of Invermore tartan round her shoulders. She noticed Domnall was in his shirt and kilt again, though it was too dark to see if he also wore the colors of her family. Together, swiftly, they ran behind the men. Their small army covered ground quickly, disappearing into the trees ahead of them.

  “Now that was something, sir,” Bethann said. Jogging to reach them, he fell in on Domnall’s right.

  “That was a mother’s love,” Domnall agreed. He turned to Chlodie. “Where do you reckon we should go first?”

  Chlodie frowned at him. “First?” she asked, mouth suddenly dry. Why was he asking her?

  “Do you know where Lady Adeline’s son might be? Or is it only in dreams, like, that you see such?”

  Chlodie stared. He meant, he was asking her to find Tam? At will? In the middle of the night, on a march through the woodlands, heading to battle?

  “I…don’t know,” she stammered.

  “You could try to find him,” Bethann said, pale eyes shining hopefully. “Not that I ken aught about it, milady,” he added, looking at his shoes.

  Chlodie drew a steadying breath. “I can try,” she agreed.

  Leaning against a tree trunk for support, she closed her eyes.

  “Keep a lookout,” she said to Domnall, shivering as she drew her cloak close about her. “I don’t fancy getting ambushed while I try looking.”

  “I’ll no’ let anybody harm ye, lass,” Domnall said softly.

  Chlodie felt her eyes clench shut as she tried to focus.

  Tam of Alrae, she thought, trying to bring to mind a picture of the youth’ face. All she could see was an earnest expression, and his mother’s black hair and eyes. Tam, son of Adeline. Where are you?

  She clenched her eyes tight, felt her hands ball into fists at her sides. A light sweat started on her brow, so intense was her focus. Nothing. Not the merest sight of anything. Not the merest flash of sensation.

  She shook her head, feeling useless.

  “Sorry,” she said, eyes welling with tears. “I can’t do it. I’m useless.” Exhausted, drained and afraid, she started to cry.

  “Whist, lass,” Domnall said gently. Turning his back, to give them privacy, he pressed his palm to her hair, cupping her cheek in his hands. “You’re no’ useless,” he said, his voice low and gentling. “You’re out here in the night, helping a woman you’ve barely met, because she needed ye. You found her son, when no one else could have done so. And you saved me and Bethann, yesterday morning. You’re no’ useless, lass. You’re the bravest lass I ever saw. I love ye.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  She closed her eyes, drawing him into an embrace.

  As she did so, a flicker of Sight blazed across her vision. She saw torches, and a tall pine tree. A wagon, covered in cloths. A man moved and a powder trail blazed as a gun was fired. The world exploded into sound and color and flame.

  “Lass?”

  She heard Domnall’s earnest voice, and realized that he was tapping her cheek, gently but insistent. He sounded worried.

  “Lass?”

  “I’m well…” she murmured. Her voice sounded distant, haunted. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. Domnall…I saw him. I know where he is now.”

  “That’s good, lass,” Domnall said softly. He glanced sideways at Bethann, who’d stooped, ready to lift her and carry her to safety. Bethann stood. Domnall nodded.

  “What did you see, lass?”

  “The forest,” Chlodie stammered. “A tree…a great pine. And a wagon, at the foot of it, loaded with cloths. A man was nearby. He fired a gun…”

  “The powder wagons!” Domnall shouted. “Round the eastern side.”

  “Powder…wagons?” Chlodie echoed it, confused. Bethann punched the air in triumph. Domnall was already going ahead, running to the rear of the men.

  “Domnall?” she called, lifting her skirt in one hand and running to catch up with him, lungs heaving at her stay-laces, which were tight. “What? Where are we going?”

  “You did it, lass! The powder wagons are to the east. You gave a perfect description. We have to run!”

  Chlodie, lungs burning, breath gasping, ran.

  Beside her, Domnall fitted his pace to hers, a steady, ground-devouring pace. He nodded to her.

  “That was remarkable, lass,” he said between breaths. “You described it perfectly. The woods, the cartloads of powder…everything.” He shook his head, stunned.

  “Good,” Chlodie managed to say between heaving breaths. She pressed her hand to her side, feeling a knifing pain there. She doubled over, gasping.

  “Are ye alright, lass?” he asked gently.

  “Can’t…run…faster,” she managed to say, feeling a steady burning fill her lungs.

  Bethann caught up with them. He glanced at Domnall. Domnall nodded.

  “Lift her, Bethann.”

  “Domnall, what? I…no! Put me down!”

  Chuckling grimly, Bethann lifted her.

  “Easy, lass,” he said. “We’ll have ye there in no time yet.”

  Chlodie, pressed to his shoulder, could only manage a gasp of assent. She clung on as best she could, and they jogged slowly ahead.

  After ten more minutes of running, they began to hear the shots.

  Chlodie looked round, terror stealing her senses momentarily. She could hear a gun firing, and occasionally blazes of light lit the gaps between the trees. Shouts came next, and the acrid smell of sulfur.

  “Almost there, now,” Domnall called, from where he ran ahead. “Take the left fork, at the path. We’re going around.”

  He had evidently passed some message on to the body of their troops, because, as they neared the crowd from the tap house, Chlodie noticed only half of them – about ten – were present. Adeline stood at the front, as grave as any general on the parade ground.

  “At the signal, eh, Lady Adeline?” Domnall shouted to her. />
  “Yes.”

  Chlodie saw Adeline nod, though they were too far, and the noise too loud, for her answer to sound any louder than a whisper. She saw Domnall grin, pleased, and then she twisted to look at Bethann, who still paced.

  “How much further?” she asked.

  “Not much, now,” Bethann replied. He sounded as if he was not tiring, though Chlodie found that difficult to believe. She twisted in the tight, muscled arms.

  “Carry me to the path,” she said. “Then put me down. I would walk.”

  He squinted down at her, but nodded. “As you will.”

  Gasping, he set her on her feet. She waited a moment while he doubled over, drawing breath after steadying breath. Then, still gasping, he nodded to her.

  “Carry…on?”

  She nodded. Domnall had already disappeared into the tree line. She could hear the shouts and din of battle, more distant here, muffled by the thicker collection of trees.

  “Let’s go.”

  Nodding mutely, she gathered her skirts in her hands and ran along behind him.

  She came out on a scene from nightmare.

  Fire licked up a tree stump, red and loud. She could hear the crack and crinkle of it as it licked the wood. In the irregular light from the flames, she caught sight of a wagon, and five men, arrayed around it. Two of them were shooting. Another was rifling through a sack in the back, while the others clustered closer, holding out their hands, or cups, or hankies.

  “There ye go,” a man said from the back, covering his mouth as he coughed. “And there. More powder?”

  Chlodie strained her eyes. The place was almost as her vision. She caught sight of the tall pine.

  “Tam?” Domnall was calling, running towards the fire. “Tam, of Alrae? Where are you?”

  “Domnall?” Chlodie drew breath. In her vision, the tree exploded in a burst of flame-light, the roar of powder deafening. The wagon’s sacks caught fire, and the explosion ripped through the woods, killing all of them, especially the tall, red-haired man who was running to the blaze, running and running…

  “Domnall!”

  Screaming his name, not knowing that she did so, she ran at him. With strength she never knew she had, she drew him back from the blaze, arms wrapped around him, weight dragging at him, pulling him down.

  He staggered backwards, and started to fall.