Highland Rebel

by Judith James

  When she arrived home, Catherine’s heart leapt to see a light in the library. It meant Jamie was home. She hesitated just a moment—things had been awkward between them of late, but this was news she was certain he’d want to know. He was sitting on the settee by the fireplace, and the look he gave her was not encouraging. She plunged ahead anyway. One of them had to break this damned silence.

  “Jamie, I’m so glad to find you home! I’ve some news I know you’ll find of interest.” She took the chair across from him and launched nervously into an account of the scandal, somewhat puzzled by his lack of response. The woman had been his mistress, for heaven’s sake! She’d tried to ruin him, but he seemed cool and… bored. “It was a rather foolish error for a woman said to be so skilled in intrigue, don’t you think?” she asked brightly when she was done.

  He answered with a shrug. “It’s a common failing of the overly proud. It’s when they think themselves invulnerable that they begin to make mistakes. I’m glad to see you, too, Catherine. We’ve matters to discuss. It will be a year next month since you came to London. It’s time our bargain be addressed. You’ve helped my situation immensely and I’m grateful, but I think now I can manage on my own. Buckingham had a niece, an heiress he offered me some months before he died. She’s still available, and amenable I’m told, provided that I’m free. I do apologize for having neglected things. No doubt we should have been about it months ago, but I intend to remedy that now. I’ve arranged for both our solicitors to meet with us next week so we can decide upon the ways and means. I hope that will be convenient?”

  Her heart had dropped to the f loor and tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, but she ruthlessly beat them back. “Why yes, of course,” she replied in a voice as cool as his own. “How kind of you, Sinclair, to make the arrangements.” They said a stiff and formal good night.

  Two days later the royal couple joyfully announced that the queen was with child, and two days after that, James Sinclair, Earl of Carlyle and Carrick, was exiled from England.

  Twenty-Three

  “He was summoned to court to see the Lord Chancellor, Baron Jeffreys, early this afternoon, my lady. He returned an hour ago seeming distracted. He’s in the library now and I fear he’s been drinking. He won’t speak or listen to me. I fear something terrible has happened. Perhaps he’ll talk to you.”

  Sullivan had assailed her as soon as she got in the door. She’d never seen him so agitated or upset. “You cannot have failed to notice that Jamie… Lord Carlyle… and I have not been on sympathetic terms for several days now. You know him far better than I do, Mr. Sullivan. I can’t imagine there’s anything he’d say to me that he wouldn’t say to you. If he asks to see me, you’ll find me in my room.”

  “Please, madam,” Sullivan said, stopping her with a hand on her sleeve. “You’re wrong. You’re his friend, and there aren’t many he’s ever let so close as that. He’s a good man, you know, much more than he lets on.”

  “I know,” she said with a smile.

  “He’s far too proud to ask anyone for help, my lady, but I fear he needs us both right now.”

  “Is it that serious?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him this way before.”

  “Very well, Mr. Sullivan,” she said with a worried sigh, “but if he bites my head off, I shall hold you personally responsible.” She didn’t want to see him. They were to meet to arrange their divorce in two day’s time, and for the last several days, their interactions had been as cold and brittle as river ice. She knew her refusal had annoyed him, but his sudden rush to procure a quick divorce and replace her with someone else had left her hurt and shaken. She had no wish to submit herself to his chilling anger again.

  The room was cold and dark and smelled of whiskey, and she couldn’t see him at first. She found him slouched in shadow on the settee by a long-dead fire.

  “Good evening, Catherine. Did Sullivan send you to beard the lion in his den? That was hardly chivalrous.”

  “What’s wrong, Jamie?” Sullivan was right. She’d never seen him this way before. Whatever the situation, however grim the circumstance, there was always a glimmer of calculation and humor in his eyes. Now he just looked… bleak. She bent to light the fire, then went to light the candles, as he watched her in silence. “Well?” she asked again.

  He stretched his arms, then folded them behind his head, regarding her with a sardonic smile. “It seems a certain lady, who claims an intimate connection, had information concerning my loyalty she felt she must present the king.”

  “Lady Ware has struck again?”

  “Bloody Jeffreys, the Lord Chief Justice, is an old acquaintance, and the king is feeling generous after the news regarding his wife. I’ve been given a warning. I’m adjudged guilty without trial, but for past service to the crown, I may choose exile over arrest and execution. I’m to be gone from London by daybreak, my property confiscated, my title forfeit. Tomorrow I’ll be declared traitor, and if I’m captured,” he shrugged, “’twill be my turn to decorate Tower Bridge.”

  “What exactly are you said to have done?”

  “Oh, some plot or other to overthrow the king and give William and Mary his throne. They’re all variations on the same theme.”

  “Ah!”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Should I be?”

  He took a sip of his drink and waved her away. “Go away. I’ve a deuced wicked megrim. Your chatter will only aggravate it.”

  “Why don’t you try drinking like a sailor? I’ve heard that helps.”

  “And there speaks the voice of experience.”

  “There’s no need to be snide.”

  “And there’s no need for you to be here. You need to leave, Catherine. This evening. Divorce me any way you wish if I don’t soon make you a widow. Forget about the money. It would only be stripped and forfeit to the crown.”

  “Do you think I’d take it at your expense? We’re friends, are we not? We may be trying to rid ourselves of one another, but I’d hardly abandon you to these curs. Perhaps I can intercede. I’m on good terms with James. He’s been courting the Highlanders along with the Irish, and I’m not without inf luence.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Never put your trust in kings, my dear. I was told that you might stay and keep your dowry and one of your properties besides. When I replied that your lands and property had remained your own, I was told I might consent to a hasty divorce or a quick execution. You’re to be married to a man of His Majesty’s choosing so you might be well taken care of. If you wish to keep your fortune for yourself, you have to leave, mouse. I’m sorry.”

  “And where do you suggest I go?”

  “Wherever you wish. Home?”

  “No, I think not. It would just be more of the same. If I must be married to someone, I prefer you. I intend to accompany you, for I’ve a feeling if I lose sight of you, I might not find you again.”

  “Please don’t argue. I know Sullivan thinks I’m the devil’s own distillery, but I really do have a megrim. I’ll be fine once it passes. The liquor and the darkness help.”

  “Oh dear! I’m sorry.” Catherine jumped up and went around the room, snuffing out the candles so only the light of the fire remained.

  “Bless you! Now could you get Sullivan for me, please?”

  “I’m right here, milord.”

  “What? Ah, yes, so you are. Why are you always creeping up on me? You can stop calling me ‘my lord.’ It appears I’m not one anymore. The way things are going, I’ll be your stable boy soon.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Catherine mused.

  Jamie cocked his head to one side, giving her a quizzical look.

  “Your pardon, milord, milady, but I feel I must point out that time is of the essence. We must pack what we can and leave. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Where will you be wanting to go?”

  “France or Spain, I expect. I still have some skill with a sword. I can alway
s find employment with Louis or Gervaise.”

  “I’ve just had a wonderful idea,” Catherine ventured, trying again.

  “What wonderful ideas are you having, love, as the world falls down about my ears?”

  “Why not go to Ireland? You and Sullivan have land there, and you could take the horses with you. You of all people should know that things turn with the tide. We’ve only to sit things out. Wouldn’t that suit? Would trouble follow you there?”

  “Trouble follows me everywhere. I’ve only to look at the two of you to be reminded, but yes… perhaps,” he said slowly, thinking it through. “I’m ordered gone from England but nothing was said of Ireland or the properties there, and they’re not ones that anyone in England covets. With luck, they might be insignificant enough that they’ve been forgotten.” His voice became more animated. “This might, in fact, prove a blessing. My sources suggest a move against the king sometime soon. This provides an excuse to quit the city and not become involved. If there’s another civil war, we’ve a better chance of staying clear, at least until I’ve a better idea how it’s all going to play out.”

  “Perhaps we might focus on more mundane issues as well as intrigue and politics,” Catherine interjected. “We can bring Charlie Turner and the grooms with us. They can accompany and care for your stallion and mares.”

  He caught her grin and couldn’t help returning it.

  “It’s a good idea, don’t you think, Jamie?”

  “It’s a wonderful idea and you’re a very clever girl!”

  She jumped up and clapped her hands. “Well, we best get to it. If we’re to be gone by morning, there’s no time to spare.”

  “Are you mad, woman? I’m about to be publicly accused of treason! We aren’t going anywhere. You’ll not be coming, Catherine. I forbid it. I release you from our bargain. Take your fortune, buy your divorce, and go home.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, my lord! You’ll find it gets you nowhere that you really want to go.”

  “Go… home.”

  “Doubtless I should, for all the appreciation I get, but you’ll find I’m not the sort to abandon a comrade in times of trouble. We’ve no time to argue. Sullivan, get the carriage. There’s not a moment to waste.”

  “Indeed, milady. Should I see if I can make arrangements for us to take ship from the city first, milord?”

  “No Sullivan. There’ll be nothing sailing before the tide, and I must be gone from London by then. I’ll take the coach to Bristol and sail to Cork or Dublin from there.”

  Catherine hurried to her room and gathered her women, informing them she was making arrangements for them to return to Scotland. Maire McKenna insisted on staying in London to assist Sullivan with all his arrangements and then to follow behind.

  “Who knows, milady. I might even find me an Irish husband, and you’ll be in need of a maid.”

  “One never knows, Maire. You might even find yourself a rebel Irish lord.”

  When she found Sullivan returning from the stables, she asked him to arrange passage for her girls. “Maire will be staying behind to help with the packing and travel north with you when you’re done. You’ll see no harm befalls her, won’t you, Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Indeed, ma’am! I assure you… that is to say… ” he blushed and stammered, turning red to the roots of his hair. “Milord has instructed me to make arrangements for you as well, milady.”

  “And have you?”

  “No, madam, in times of trouble, a man should stay close to his friends. I… would like to thank you ma’am, for encouraging and standing by him. I knew it would do the trick.”

  “Why do you stay with him, Sullivan? It’s been what, seven years now? He has no money, he seldom pays you. Why haven’t you returned to your home?”

  “Because he’s kind to his women, his servants, and his pets, ma’am.”

  “Ah well, I may be his wife, but I assure you I’m not one of his women.”

  “No indeed, ma’am. You are one of his pets.”

  Twenty-Four

  The coach shuddered and swayed over rutted roads. Catherine gritted her teeth and clung to the strap, sometimes bouncing so high she was airborne. She’d yet to decide what was worse, the sickening sideways slide as they wrenched clear of the sucking mud, or the bone-jarring jolt when she landed. She decided the worst was the sight of Jamie Sinclair’s lanky frame, stretched across the opposite seat, his booted feet braced against the window as he slept.

  A winter chill was in the air and snow was falling when they stopped to change the horses, and though it was full dark, they ate and were on their way again within the hour. They were traveling fast, they were traveling straight through, and they were traveling light. Mr. Sullivan and three grooms had gone to collect the horses before His Majesty’s bailiffs might think to intervene. Jamie had taken several fine bottles of brandy, a case of wine, and a spare change of clothes. Catherine was dressed in boots and breeches.

  “Is that your idea of the proper garb for a country wife, mouse?” he asked, collecting a bottle of brandy as they climbed back in the carriage.”

  “No, Sinclair. It’s my idea of the appropriate garb for a traitorous fugitive wife.”

  “Ah, but loyal to her husband, at least. You look quite fetching, my dear. I’m almost grateful for our hasty departure. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your magnificent derrière so cunningly displayed. The way your breeches hug your bottom, snug and rounded—”

  “Jamie!” He was an incorrigible letch, as always. At least he was over his black mood and back to being himself. They started down the road again, and she twisted and turned, trying to get comfortable. “Damn it, Sinclair! Couldn’t you have sprung for a decent coach?”

  “No, my love. You’ve been miserly and have yet to give me an allowance. In any case, you’re here of your own free will. I don’t recall forcing you. I didn’t ask you to come, in fact I warned you not to. Imagine my surprise when I leapt into my coach intent on my escape and poof! There you were.”

  “Do you know, Sinclair, your penchant for saying I told you so is, in my opinion, one of your least attractive qualities. And it discourages conversation.”

  “Really, my love? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Hmph!” Giving up any attempt at further conversation, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

  “One should never denigrate a man’s carriage. It’s representative of who he is.”

  “Then you are dilapidated, dangerous, unsteady, and unreliable.”

  “Hush, child!” he said with a chuckle. “If I’m all of those things, then you’re being a very reckless girl.”

  She ignored him.

  “It’s not too late to change you mind, you know. It’s damp and wild and cold in Ireland. Life is harsh and her people are poor.”

  “As opposed to the Highlands? I think I can manage.”

  “You don’t think you’ll miss London or your place at court?”

  “I’m rather less attached to it than you are. It’s a crowded, noisy, dirty town, and I grew weary of it months ago. I’ve made my choice.”

  “The more fool you,” he said, tilting his head back and taking a swallow of brandy.

  “Yes… quite.” Catherine was annoyed with him. He could be a little more appreciative, after all, his past actions were affecting her now, too. She wondered why she hadn’t done as he’d wished and abandoned him to his king, his creditors, and his fate. He could support himself as a mercenary. She could have her divorce and control of her money, and if the king sought to curb her, she’d be in Paris in a trice. A divorce was what she’d first come for, after all.

  Jamie nudged her foot with his boot, and she accepted the bottle he proffered, raising it to him in a silent toast and managing a healthy swallow before handing it back. The last time she’d drunk brandy in a coach with him she’d been desperately hoping he’d kiss her. Her lips curved in a smile as she remembered. She leaned back, bracing her shoulders against the carriage w
all, resting one ankle against her knee. When she closed her eyes, she could still taste the one he’d given her that first night in his tent, whiskey-soaked, firm, and heated. She could still feel how the bristle on his jaw and chin had rubbed her tender cheek. And then, a year later he’d come, luxuriant and predatory, dangerous and seductive, to her room, and she’d turned him away. Fool, idiot, stupid girl!

  She’d been keenly aware of him ever since. Her skin pricked and she sensed his heat whenever he was near. Her nostrils f lared, catching his scent before she saw him, and when he was close, like now, she could hear his heartbeat and the soothing rhythm of his breath. She was fascinated by the steady rise and fall of his chest, mesmerized by the strong lines of his collarbone and the shape of his throat with its—

  “What are you thinking about, mouse?”

  “Nothing that would interest you.” Reaching for the bottle, she took it from him and managed another swallow, giving it back without spilling a drop. The pummeling she’d taken earlier in the evening had left her stiff and sore, but things were improving. Either the way was smoother now, or she’d learned to adjust her position to accommodate the rattling from the road. “Now if you don’t mind, Jamie, I’d like to try and get some sleep.” Folding her arms and tilting her head back, she closed her eyes.

  “Mmmm.” She squirmed and wiggled, smiling as she made herself more comfortable, imaging what it would be like if they made love. No doubt he’d be very good at it. She’d only to remember his kisses, the way he held and caressed her, and the effect he had on the ladies of the court. Her toes curled in her boots, and she stretched and sighed. When he’d taken her in the cave, she’d felt on the edge of a great discovery, but becoming a woman had been rather disappointing in the end. She didn’t fault him, he’d been delirious and she ill-prepared, but instead of making her feel womanly and satisfied, it had left her feeling curious and aching for more.