Feeling a tremulous tug on the hem of his kilt, he slunk back, and, pressing warning fingers over Cherry’s mouth, he drew her back into the deep bank of hay.
“Did anyone see you come here?” a voice demanded harshly, startling the two young hearts into skipping several beats.
“I was careful,” a second voice responded. “Well? Are they going to act on the information I gave you?”
“I delivered it personally to Lord Loudoun, and he, in turn, helped me convince Forbes to send fifteen hundred men to Moy Hall tonight under cover of darkness. If the prince is there, as you say, we will have him trapped in a net so tight he couldn’t melt through it.”
“You have underestimated his abilities before. I would not take too many things for granted, nor wait too long to take action.”
“It should take no more than an hour or so to move my men out of Inverness, another two to get into position. I suggest you stay away from any open windows to avoid being mistaken for the wrong silhouette … if you know what I mean.”
“You’re going to kill him?”
“Why?” Colonel Blakeney smiled cynically. “Does the thought cause you undue distress?”
The other man shrugged. “If you just wanted him dead, I could have done the job myself weeks ago. I was under the impression Cumberland wanted him alive, if at all possible, to make an example of him to others who might question English supremacy.”
“If he comes willingly enough, I will be glad to escort him all the way to London in a princely cage. But if there is the slightest question of complete success, I shall not hesitate to kill the royal regent and anyone else who stands in my way.”
The second man looked away for a moment, then glanced back at the colonel’s shadowy features. “Lady Anne has another house guest staying with her. A woman. I don’t want her hurt, and I don’t want her taken with the others.”
“Who is she?”
“No one of any possible interest to you, Colonel, nor of any political threat to the government. She is English, however, and the daughter of a prominent friend to King George who would prefer to have her brought back discreetly to the bosom of her loved ones, not locked in manacles and put on display.”
“My main concern is the prince,” Blakeney said. “If this woman is so important to you, I suggest you see to it that she is well away from the house when my men arrive. If she is captured and arrested with the others, I cannot guarantee the salvation of her reputation, not even if she was the daughter of the king himself.”
“Fair enough. I should be able to think of some excuse to get her out of the house. And now, I had better be on my way … unless there is something else?”
“No. Major Garner will be pleased to hear you are earning your keep. By the way, I had almost forgotten … he wanted me to forward this on to you—” Blakeney removed a sealed letter from an inner pocket of his cloak, and then a second, smaller parcel bound in twine. “And here is the tea you wanted. Are things so hellishly barbaric traveling with those rebels?”
“They prefer to brace themselves with whisky rather than water steeped in herbs. The benefits show, don’t you agree, in their approach to, and performance during, battle?”
Blakeney scowled at the sarcasm. “As long as your admiration does not spill over into your loyalties, sir. On that note, I leave you with one final word of caution: If anything … unforeseen should happen tonight, such as an ambush or an obvious entrapment, it will be my pleasure to see every strip of living flesh flayed from your body and fashioned into bloody replicas of the Stuart cockade.”
“A picturesque threat, but uncalled for. You will have the prince tonight, one way or the other.”
Laughlan and Cheristine, huddled against the straw, listened raptly as both sets of feet moved away from the stable, each going in opposite directions.
“Bluidy hell,” Cherry exclaimed on a sigh. “I thought we were deid gone, I did.”
Laughlan crept to the end of the stall, listened intently for any further sounds from outside in the yard, then darted to the entrance of the stable and peered out into the shadowy parade of buildings and cramped stone stores.
“Have they gone?” Cherry asked, appearing like a ghost over his shoulder.
“Aye. Seems so.”
“Did ye see who they were? Did ye recognize them?”
Laughlan shook his head. “I canna be cairtain, but I ken one O’ them was the new colonel arrived at the fort— Blakey or Blackeney, or some such thing. The ither—” He shrugged his lack of knowledge.
Cheristine’s fingers were busy repairing the damage wrought by Laughlan’s earlier fumblings. She laced her bodice prudishly tight and brushed her skirt and sleeves free of clinging bits of straw. After running back to the stall, she found and retrieved her woolen shawl, and, wrapping it securely around her head and shoulders, started out into the yard.
“I must get back afore mam notices how late it is,” she said, attempting a normal conversational air. It failed, however, as did her attempt to dash past Laughlan before he could reach out a hand to stop her.
“Laughlan, I must get back—”
“Cherry, love, ye canna just leave me alone! We have tae warn Lady Anne an’ the ithers.”
“W-warn them?”
“Aye, lass! Did ye no’ hear what them two men were sayin’? They’ve laid a trap tae ambush Prince Charlie in his sleep! We’re the only ones wha’ know, so we’re the only ones can warn them.”
“Warn them … but how?”
“Well … I can cut across the glen tae Moy Hall. It shouldna take more’n an hour, if I run all the way. Cherry, love, ye’ll have tae find a way tae get word tae The MacGillivray. He’ll have men an’ guns, an’ he’ll ken what tae dae. Are ye wi’ me in this, lass? Will ye help?”
“Moy Hall? The MacGillivray?” She chewed savagely on a clenched knuckle. “Oh. Oh, Laughlan. I’m afeared O’ the sojers. They havena any qualms about arrestin’ anyone wha’ helps the rebels, an’ … an’ ma faither would throw fits if he even knew I were here wi’ ye.” She hesitated, swallowed hard at the panic welling in her chest, weighing it against the young but breathtakingly handsome features of Laughlan MacKintosh. She’d had her heart and her head set on winning him from the time he’d pulled her out of a well and saved her life at age three. “Aye. Aye, I’ll dae it, Laughlan. I must dae it, must I na? Ye’re right, we’re the only ones wha’ can help Lady Anne an’ the ithers. I’ll find ma brithers—Duncan an’ Jamie—an’ they’ll ride f’ae The MacGillivray.”
“Ach, I knew ye were a bonnie lass, Cherry,” he said, kissing her hard and fast on the lips. He drew the ends of his own heavy breacan kilt around his shoulders and was about to run out into the night when Cheristine’s hand stopped him.
“Laughlan?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Dae ye … dae ye still love me?” She faltered, drowning in discomfort until he caught up her sweet face between his hands and smiled.
“Aye, lass, I dae. I didna ken how much until just this very minute.”
“Godspeed,” she whispered, her kiss as lush and mature as the feelings wrapped around her heart.
Grinning, he stole a last kiss and dashed out of the stable, his feet fairly flying over the snow-encrusted ground.
18
Lady Anne Moy stretched and offered a delicate yawn toward the fire. Damien, who had just recently joined the ladies in the parlor, noted the yawn and glanced at the clock ticking on the mantel.
“Ten past eight,” he said to no one in particular. “Yet it feels like three in the morning.”
Catherine looked over and smiled. “Only because you have come to experience the true meaning of the words ‘work’ and ‘commitment,’ brother mine.”
“You were much nicer to me before I gave you your cache of tea leaves,” he remarked dryly.
Catherine wrinkled her nose pertly and drained the last of the honey-sweetened brew.
“In any case,” Damien said, “now that I have thawed sufficie
ntly, I think I shall see to my last few chores for the evening and then retire. It occurs to me I have gone twelve full hours without writing a letter to Harriet and, regardless if I write ten on the morrow to compensate for the omission, she will somehow know and punish me in some heinous, cruel manner.”
“What possible chores could ye have to do this late at night?” Lady Anne inquired. “Ye spent the best part of the day in Inverness—against ma better judgment, I might add—and ye have, indeed, barely been home long enough to warm the chill out of yer claythes.”
“I promised Dr. Cameron I would keep an eye on some of his patients. Apart from my mission to find tea leaves for a certain shamefully spoiled young lady, I managed to scrounge some medicines Archibald said were in short supply.”
“Is there sickness in the camp?” Lady Anne asked, alarmed.
“Nothing out of the usual,” he assured her. “Some fever, some dysentery … nothing a good strong dose of liverwort won’t cure.”
Catherine sighed audibly. “Dose someone suffering from dysentery with liverwort, my fine budding apothecary, and you would see them writhing in agony in no time.”
Damien arched a brow. “Since when have you become a physician’s apprentice?”
“Since Deirdre and I decided to make ourselves useful around the camp,” she replied smartly.
“In that case, perhaps you would care to come along and offer your expert diagnosis and advice?”
“I’ll go,” Deirdre said, standing at once. “It’s much too damp for Catherine to be out this late at night.”
“Nonsense,” she said, setting aside her teacup. “I could use a few breaths of fresh air.”
“No.” Damien held up his hand. “Deirdre is right. Alex would have my liver if I let anything happen to you, even to catching a runny nose.”
“It is my nose,” she insisted. “And since Alex himself usually allows me to accompany him on late-night strolls around the camp, he can hardly object to you doing the same thing.”
“And if I still say no?” he demanded.
“I shall simply follow you anyway.”
Damien scowled. “I’m sorry I ever mentioned the matter. Very well, you can tag along, but you are not to go anywhere near the sick tents and you are not—”
A loud, frantic knocking on the manor’s front door echoed down the corridor and interrupted Damien’s train of thought. Lady Anne glanced around, startled at first by the noise, then puzzled as to its cause.
“Whoever could it be at this hour?” she wondered aloud. “Surely it canna be someone else to see the prince.”
The doors had been knocked upon all day long, for even though the prince’s precise whereabouts were supposed to have been kept a closely guarded secret, some of the local villagers and lairds had caught wind of it, and came to pay their respects. Charles had retired to his chambers several hours ago, accompanied by three of Angus Moy’s friendlier wolfhounds and a full bottle of strong, locally brewed spirits. He was nursing an inflammation in his chest, and although his cough and sniffles had improved vastly since coming out of the mountains, he used it as an excuse to keep his own company.
“Pardon, ma lady,” came the voice of Robert Hardy, the wizened Stewart of Moy Hall. “There’s a lad at the door, name O’ Laughlan MacKintosh. He’s in a rare state an’ says he must take a word wi’ ye … in privat’cy.”
“Young Laughlan—Eanruil’s son?”
“The same, ma lady.” Robert arched a graying brow. “Says he has run all the way frae Inverness wi’ a message ye must hear wi’ yer ain ears.”
Lady Anne smiled. “Then by all means, Robert, show the lad in.”
Moments later Laughlan MacKintosh, his face a glowering red from the long run in the cold misty air, dripped his way into the richly furnished drawing room, his blue wool bonnet crushed in frozen fingers before his chest, a large bead of moisture hanging from the end of his nose. Robert Hardy pinched the lad severely on the arm and indicated by way of a frosty glare for him to remove his fur-skin brogues from the rug to the polished—and thus wipeable—wood floor.
Lady Anne Moy, as regal a hostess to a sweating, quivering fifteen-year-old gillie as she was to the royal prince regent, stood and waved the lad closer to the roaring fire.
“Ma lady,” he began. “I’d have a word wi’ ye, if ye please.”
“Whisht, Laughlan MacKintosh,” she interrupted, signaling a disapproving Robert Hardy to pour out a glass of brandy. “Warm yerself first. Yer teeth are chattering so loud I can barely hear anything through them.”
Laughlan dragged the sleeve of his coat across his nose and forehead, then accepted and gratefully drained the glass of spirits; “I’d have a word wi’ ye alone, ma lady,” he insisted, spluttering over the liquor-induced fireball in his throat. “It’s fair important, what I have tae say.”
“I’m sure it is to have brought ye out on a night like this. But these are ma friends, Laughlan. Ye can say what ye must in front of them.”
“Well—” He spared a last glance around the ring of quiet faces before blurting out his story. “The sojers from Fort George are on their way here, ma lady. They’re on their way from Inverness tae surround the hall an’ take Prince Charles their prisoner.”
Damien, leaning against the pillared column of the fireplace, straightened and set his glass on the mantel. Deirdre and Catherine exchanged worried glances, but Lady Anne only laced her fingers together and smiled calmly.
“Where did ye hear this, Laughlan?” she asked.
“’Tis the truth, ma lady, I swear it. I haird two men talkin’ about a plan tae attack an’ kidnap the prince. One O’ them was an officer from the fort an’ said as how Lord Loudoun had given him fifteen hunnerd sojers an’ they were tae march wi’in the hour. The ither one said as how there werena but a few men left at Moy Hall tae guard the prince; he said as how Lochiel an’ Keppoch had left this mornin’ an’ the prince were alone until Lord George comes from Nairn.”
“Who was this second man?” Lady Anne asked sharply. “Did ye see his face?”
Laughlan shook his head. “Nae. But he were Sassenach—a proper Sassenach wi’ an accent crisp as toast. I might ken him again if I seen him by the side an’ wi’ the same kind O’ shadows ’roun him—or if I heard him talk lowlike, in a whisper. I come here quick as I could, ma lady, on account O’ they vowed as how the sojers would have the prince in jail afore midnight.”
Lady Anne, Catherine, Deirdre, and Damien looked at the ticking clock simultaneously.
“If what the boy says is true,” Damien stated, loud enough for his cultured Derby accent to win a shocked stare from Laughlan, “then we haven’t much time.”
“Robert—” Lady Anne addressed the manservant with commanding efficiency. “Ye must go and rouse the prince at once. Take him warm claythes—a plain kilt and jacket— and tell him to dress quickly; we will have to hide him somewhere until we find out if it is true or na’.”
Laughlan dragged his wary eyes away from Damien and settled his gaze firmly on Lady Anne. “It is true, ma lady. On ma honor as a MacKintosh, it is true.”
For two full seconds there was silence, then the butler cleared his throat. “He could be taken to the caves, ma lady,” he suggested.
“Aye. Aye, Robert, we’ll have to risk it. We only have but forty or fifty men on hand. Damn MacGillivray f’ae choosing today of all days to go home and check on his farms.”
“I’ve already sent a message tae The MacGillivray,” Laughlan said with a measure of manly pride. “I knew ye mout be needin’ his help.”
“Bless ye f’ae that, Laughlan, but it will still be well past midnight before he can call his men together and be of any use. Robert! Have yer feet grown into the floor?” She waited until the butler hurried away before she spoke again.
“What we have to do is think O’ some way to stall the soldiers long enough to get the prince safely away.”
“We can begin by rounding up all the men from the camp,” Dam
ien said, striding for the door. “If you don’t need the boy anymore, he can help me by collecting together all the servants, stableboys … anyone and everyone who is old enough and willing enough to carry a weapon.”
“Deirdre and I qualify on both counts,” Catherine declared. “We want to help too.”
“Absolutely not!” Damien growled, halting at the door. “You will both go up to your rooms, lock yourselves inside, and wait for me to come back and fetch you. And I warn you, Catherine Ashbrooke Cameron, if you defy me on this, it may be the last bit of willful disobedience you will ever attempt while in one piece.”
He was gone in a startled blink of an eye, although it did not take long for either woman to redirect an appeal to Lady Anne.
“Please,” Catherine cried. “You cannot expect us just to hide away in our rooms and do nothing! There must be some way we can be of help.”
Lady Anne, anxious to be away on errands of her own, shook her head after little or no consideration. “No. Your brither is right, Catherine. Ye’ve nae hand f’ae violence, if it comes to that. Both yer husbands would skin me alive if I allowed either you or Deirdre anywhere near danger. Ye’re safest in your rooms, as ye were told. The soldiers wouldna dare enter Moy Hall.”
“I thought they would never dare violate Rosewood Hall,” Catherine said, stubbornly following Lady Anne out into the hallway and up the stairs, “but they did. As for violence, Deirdre and I have both witnessed our share lately, and regardless of my brother’s misguided sense of chivalry or my husband’s vaunted temper, I insist on helping in some way!”
Robert Hardy chose that opportune moment to appear in the hallway, his arms burdened under yards of plaid, his speech and mannerisms agitated.
“It is the prince, ma lady. I canna rouse him. He’s locked himsel’ in his room an’—”
“Christ on a cross!” Anne Farquharson Moy exclaimed, abandoning all pretense at patience. “Break the bluidy door down if ye must! Carry him out over yer shoulder if ye canna get him to move any other way! When I go back down the stairs, Robert Hardy, I dinna want to hear he’s still in the house, or I’ll have yer nether parts slung around ma neck to wear as a trophy!”
The Blood of Roses Page 37