Highland Arms

by Cathie Dunn

  Moving on, he grunted at Auntie Meg’s request to show Catriona the estate. Aye, he’d show her the land, the loch, and the hardship of life out here. She’d soon be horrified at the dirt, the graft, and the unpredictable weather. He chewed on the last bit of cheese and wiped his hands on his kilt. No, he’d not let her endanger his plans. He knew ways of stopping her. At whatever cost.

  As soon as he crossed the brow of the hill behind the manor, the building disappeared from sight. Rory took a sharp turn left and after another mile, climbed back down toward the shore, his brogues sliding on the mossy rocks. A short while later he reached the ramshackle boathouse where he kept his vessel. He pulled the narrow boat to the water’s edge, but before leaving the shelter of the shed he scanned the shore.

  Nobody in sight. Good.

  Gliding out of his hiding place, he jumped in and pushed away from the beach with the oars. The manor was safely out of sight. The dandy was probably still asleep and if not, Rory was sure he’d not venture far from the house. As for the fine city lady, she probably suffered from an attack of the vapors after seeing him in the kitchen. He grinned.

  Rory focused his mind on rowing. Deep breath and go. And again. Staying as close to the land as he dared, he took cover underneath the trees growing on the shoreline, their branches reaching far into the loch like long-fingered hands. He worked his muscles hard until he reached the small sandy inlet hiding the entrance to the cave.

  When the boat scraped the ground, he jumped into the shallow water and pulled it up to hide under shrubs overhanging the rocks. He brushed away all traces of the vessel from the sand, and then walked to the rocks rising high against the bay, erasing his footprints behind him. Skirting around the promontory, he ducked underneath a large overhanging boulder that hid the entrance.

  Rory waited inside until his eyes adjusted to the shadowy light, then groped behind a crevice for flint and a torch. Swiftly, he lit the torch and slid the flint back into its hiding place.

  Only now was he able to see the path ahead of him. The tunnel was so narrow that a broad man like him barely managed to squeeze through, the exposed skin on his arms scraping the ragged stone walls. Only Rory and a small number of his associates knew of this passage.

  Holding the torch in front of him, the flickering light illuminating the narrow shaft, he descended along the path. After a quarter mile of uneven ground, the path grew narrower, and lower. He crouched to avoid the sharp edges jutting from the ceiling. Rory was so familiar with the twists and turns he could walk it in his sleep, and it was not long until he arrived.

  The end of the tunnel opened into a wide cave several times the size of Auntie Meg’s parlor, with four openings in the walls leading to smaller chambers. Rory walked into each chamber and found them all empty, as expected. A fortnight earlier, the drovers collected the last few crates of the arms he’d hidden here following the previous year’s aborted rebellion and taken them to a safer hiding place. All was going to plan. Soon, the Stuarts would ascend to the throne once more.

  Chapter Four

  Catriona decided to put the morning’s shock firmly out of her mind. Now she took breakfast in her brother’s company. The only sound that broke the silence was the spitting of the wood in the fireplace. Mairi informed them Auntie Meg felt faint and decided to remain abed. It pricked Catriona’s conscience, and made her even more ashamed of her brother who shrugged the news off with a bored expression, not even bothering to look at the maid as he stared into his teacup.

  Mairi’s assistance in dressing her earlier that morning raised Catriona’s spirits. She had washed off the remaining dust from the road and dressed her properly for the first time since her journey began. Mairi brushed her hair back in a loose plait, leaving a few stray curls to tickle her cheeks. Invigorated and refreshed, Catriona refused to allow Angus’ sour demeanor to spoil her joy.

  He stuffed his mouth with soft bread and cheese while she took her time. This was far better fare than the breakfast of boiled porridge they’d eaten whilst on the road, the taste of thick gruel still etched firmly into her tastebuds. In contrast, the bread was still warm, falling apart when she ripped off a chunk, a pleasure to relish.

  She glanced at him across the table. Would it not be the crowning glory of the day if he returned home this very morning?

  “When will you be leaving?” She prayed her voice sounded subtle.

  Angus looked up, his mouth full. He chewed frantically, and washed the food down with a gulp of tea. Auntie Meg’s China cup lay cradled in his long fingers. If he were to press them together ever so lightly, he’d crush the delicate cup like rose petals.

  “I’ll leave on the morrow. That Robbie MacKinnon apparently has some business to do here today. Not a clue what it is but hell, I’ll be glad to see the back of this place.” He poured himself more tea, ignoring her half-empty cup, and settled back, swirling the liquid in the small vessel. “It’s depressing out here. Nothing going on. Dead.”

  “Perhaps that’s a good thing,” Catriona mused. “After all, I’m here to avoid temptation, remember?” Her gaze shot arrows at her brother. Why, oh why could he not leave today?

  Angus laughed. “You’ll probably end up fumbling in the hay with a crofter.” Despite his outward humor, his voice was like ice. “Or that rogue from last night might have you for some bedsport.”

  Catriona’s cheeks burned. In fury, she hoped, and not at her brother’s lewd suggestion that she shared a heady bed of grass with Rory Cameron. The memory of Rory’s bare chest, strong muscles rippling underneath dark skin, was almost too much to bear. Her color heightened further. Her brother must never guess. “He is Auntie Meg’s nephew. And she told me he’s hardly ever here.” She took another bite of bread, trying to keep her features bland.

  Angus’ eyebrows shot up as his eyes searched her face. Dear God, was she so easy to read? A cruel smile sneaked across his clean-shaven visage. “So...my little sister finds the man appealing? Now that will be of interest to Father, I’m certain.” He set the cup back onto its saucer and leaned forward to study her face. “Maybe I’m right after all, and you’ll end up as his mistress. From what I saw at the inn, the man seemed to like rescuing damsels in distress.”

  “How dare you!” Catriona jumped up, reaching for the back of her chair just in time to keep it from crashing backwards. “You are despicable.”

  She stood behind the chair, clinging on to the solid wood. For strength, for support. To stop her from reaching out and punching her brother’s arrogant face. Enough was enough.

  “I know about the women, Angus. And about your debts.” Angus stared at her, his features frozen into a grimace of anger. He pointed a finger at her but that did not stop Catriona from saying what she needed to say. It was vital for her to get this out in the open. Too long had she suppressed her fury, her disappointment at her wastrel brother.

  “I know about the Artisan Club. Yes, I even know the type of women you prefer for company. It’s the buxom blondes, isn’t it?” His eyes widened. She was right. “And to top it all off, I sent the debt collectors on their way. Repeatedly. Before Father found out. I promised them you’d pay them soon. And I nursed your valet back to health after those awful men beat him in your stead. Did you ever thank him for saving your neck? No, I thought not!”

  Catriona took a deep breath, realizing she had raised her voice and the servants—or worse, Auntie Meg—might hear her. Quietly, she shook her head. “You’re a big disappointment as a brother. All my life, I’ve taken it upon myself to make sure you didn’t become that disappointment as a son to our parents. They deserve so much better. So, dear brother, who do you think is going to save them from finding out all these horrible things while I’m out here? Nobody! Now you’re on your own.”

  He sat back in his chair, his face ashen. All anger seemed to have drained from him. Still he did not speak.

  “You’ve done the worst thing possible for either of us, Angus, when you betrayed me. Even when you went dow
nstairs on the night of the Spring Ball to tell Father, you knew John sought to ruin me in my bedroom—and that I was fighting him off. You thought you’d turn our parents against me. Instead, you got rid of the only person keeping you whiter than white in their eyes.

  “I hope they find out for themselves what I’ve had to hide for so long. I’m sorry for the pain it will cause them but it’s high time they knew. Whether you’ll still be their golden boy after all has become public, I don’t know.” Her voice finally faltered. She had said her piece. Now she must move forward, without looking back.

  Angus whistled sharply as he exhaled. “Have you quite finished yet?” He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to nod.

  “There’s nothing for them to find out, sister. I settled my financial affairs before we traveled, and I’ll endeavor to avoid the Artisan Club in the future.” He laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. “Even if I do end up in that place again—yes, I know I’m weak—our parents are never going to find out and you, my dear, will never breathe a word.” His grin, devoid of any humor, made her skin crawl. “I have a plan.”

  Catriona shivered at the icy resolve in his voice.

  “You see,” he continued. “You may find yourself being married off to one of my associates on your return. I’ve already suggested a couple of names to Father. Either of the men are perfectly capable to deal with your forthright manner. They wouldn’t mind whipping you into shape, and certainly wouldn’t care if they’re handling damaged goods as long as the price is right.”

  “I’m not damaged goods, Angus.” Catriona’s body trembled, her constricted throat choking her. “You know as well as I do that nothing untoward happened.”

  Tears welled at the memory. She had been so terrified when John Henderson, then her betrothed of six months, forced his way into her bedroom during the family’s annual Spring Ball. Managing to fight him off with a candlestick, she’d been relieved for once to see her brother arrive at a timely moment. But instead of defending her he struck a bargain with John and went downstairs to tell Father. John escaped lightly and together the two despicable men ruined her reputation—even though her body remained intact. Hatred, deep and destructive, soared through her blood. She swore never to forgive Angus.

  “Yes, but something might have happened if I hadn’t come in, if John got his way. I know the kind. He’d have taken what he wanted, at whatever cost. And my two associates know just how to get what they want, as well.”

  She pulled herself to her full height, and looked down her nose at him. “You can’t threaten me, Angus MacKenzie. Remember, I’m stuck in this wilderness until Father relents. So even with all your attempts at matchmaking, a decision might take a long time.”

  Angus chuckled. She bit back her tears, wiping the remnants from her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction to watch her cry. Not any more.

  “Father listens to me, don’t forget. I’m a good son. Thanks to you covering my misdeeds he’s none the wiser.”

  “He’ll eventually hear about your transgressions. Like you said, you’re weak and the gossips never stop. The truth will come out.”

  “You’re so naive, little sister. The basic issue here is—I’m a man. So is Father. At the end of the day we’re all the same, deep down. I’m certain he’d understand that I’ve got to go and enjoy myself while I’m young. But as regards you, my dear, I’m afraid the matter is quite the opposite.

  “On my return home I’ll introduce my friends to Father. He’d see it like this—they protect his good name, covering your dirty deeds by marrying you. Does that not sound like a fair deal?” He rose, winked at her, and walked to the door.

  Catriona did not move, her nails digging into the back of the chair. Her face stung with anger, a fast pulse echoing in her ears. He’d still play with her life even when she was hundreds of miles away. She’d never be rid of him.

  “You wouldn’t do that, Angus. You’d get nothing out of it.” She looked into his stony eyes, searching one last time for the link that made them brother and sister. She found none. His sardonic smile made her skin crawl.

  “Oh yes, sister. Actually, I’m due to gain quite a lot. Father’s inheritance. Control over all our family affairs. This includes yours through your future husband—a friend of mine who’ll be only too delighted to share my indulgences. The cash I’ll receive from the fortunate man in return for your hand. The manor in Edinburgh. The house in London. All that while I live my life as always, with the most pleasure and the least hassle. You’ll have no choice but to obey. How terribly convenient.” He grinned. “For me.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  Catriona stood, her body in tremors, bile rising in her throat. His threat was real. She had to do something to stop him. But, dear God, what?

  She fled from the room and escaped through the front doors into the fresh Highland air. Lifting her skirts, she broke into a run. Breathing faster, she followed the path by the shore, escaping deeper into the wilderness. Gusts of wind tore at her gown, the skirts billowing in the strong breeze, then flapping flat against her legs again, almost bringing her to fall. Tears streamed down her face, but she did not wipe them away. She did not care. Blindly, Catriona ploughed forward, away from the house where Angus probably still laughed at her.

  ***

  The sun stood still high in the sky when Rory returned. The meeting with his associates had been revealing. Robbie passed on vital information from the Lowlands that helped their cause enormously. His own clansmen brought news of the land. Support was growing. A few potential leaders lined up, provided Rory delivered the guns. Of course he could. He grinned. Hundreds of Spanish muskets lay hidden in the hills following that ill-fated rising the previous year. All those weapons were now at their disposal.

  His small band of associates smuggled the crates out of the reach of the Royal Navy just in time. The Jacobites desperately needed them if they wanted their next uprising taken seriously. So far their boats avoided detection by government vessels—once or twice too narrowly for comfort. They’d eventually hidden their cargo in his cave for several weeks. Only recently had he given the order to move them further inland, with the help of the cattle drovers.

  However as of late, the Navy had begun to snoop around on the loch as if following a tip-off. Was there a spy among them?

  Everyone knew the risks. Brave men, committed to their cause, transferred the rest of the cargo to a safe, dry place deep in the mountains, where it remained until the time was ripe for another rebellion. A successful rebellion.

  But the government patrols had become more frequent, both on land and on water, anticipating trouble from the Highlanders. A couple of weeks earlier, three men were caught with a dozen crates strapped to their packhorses. Rory went to Edinburgh, in his usual disguise as a merchant, looking for a way to rescue them. Instead, he’d watched them hang, their trial a speedy farce. All he could do was pray for their souls.

  He clenched the oars at the thought of the torture, the pain they must have endured. Yet they never revealed any pertinent information. To him, they were heroes. He’d avenge those men. For now, the Jacobites were lying low, and biding their time. But they’d triumph in the end.

  Rory steered back toward the boathouse. When he heard the crunch of gravel underneath the prow, he jumped into the knee-deep water, pulled the boat further inside, and tied it to a stake with a tight knot. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he spotted movement. In a swift move he drew his dagger from its sheath and turned. But what he’d thought to be a spy turned out to be a mermaid dressed in a deep blue gown.

  Catriona.

  Cursing under his breath, he approached her. She lay on her side, gown covered in sand and mud, her knees pulled up and cradled in her arms. The delicate lids of her eyes were puffy. Tears clung to her long lashes. She was sobbing in her sleep. What on earth had happened?

  Rory sheathed his dagger and knelt by her side. Gently, he shook her shoulder. Catriona woke with
a start and pushed herself into a sitting position.

  “What…” She gasped, eyes wide in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Her gaze left his face to take in her surroundings. It came to rest where his hand still lay on her shoulder. He withdrew it and stood.

  “I should ask you the same. This is my boathouse. And before you ask—yes, I do keep a boat here.” Rory shook his head. She had invaded his privacy, yet made him feel like the intruder.

  But it was obvious she was suffering. Her hair flowed down her back in thick black curls, the bows that had held it back caught loosely in the tresses. Mud clung to the side where she had lain. What had reduced her to such a state?

  “Don’t!” he said when she raised a hand from the muddy floor to wipe the tears from her face. “Let me.” He pulled a scrap of linen from his sporran and knelt before her. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.”

  He smiled and took her hands when she tried to stop him, returning them to her lap. Carefully, he dabbed her soft cheeks and eyes before he crouched back on both legs, content with the result. Their eyes met, her long lashes framing the liquid golden depths.

  What the hell happened to her? Did her dandy brother hurt her? Or was she crying because she missed the man she’d left behind in the city?

  He rose, took her arm, and helped her up. “Come, I’ll walk you to the water where you can clean your hands.”

  She stared at him in mute understanding, an assessing look on her face. He must ask Robbie about her background. The guide must have overheard something during their time on the road. Was she pining for the man who seduced her?

  Rory led her toward the water’s edge. She crouched on a boulder while he dunked the linen square, rinsed it, and held it out to her.

  “Thank you,” she said as she wiped her hands clean. “I must apologize. I think everything that has happened in the past few weeks finally caught up with me.”

  “No, Catriona. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He took the linen from her, and rinsed it again watching the mud drain from it. Sitting beside her, he held out his hand. With apparent reluctance, she allowed him to push her mud-stained lace sleeves up to wipe the smudges of dirt from her soft skin. She shivered under his touch, a sensation that sent ripples of excitement through his body.