by Judith James
“Well, my dear, the world descends upon us. Here we are, rebels both. You can no longer come home with me, and I can’t go home with you. What are we to do?”
She couldn’t believe it had never crossed her mind. She’d been lost inside a blissful dream, but they were back to the real world now, a world in which he was a Sassenach who’d marched with William’s army, and she was a Jacobite rebel. Her heart stuttered and a chill ran down her back.
“I want you to stay with me.” It’s not supposed to be this way. It isn’t fair!
“I’m not sure how we do that, my love. I don’t see your people welcoming me. I still bear the scars from my last visit with your family, and it leaves little room for hope. I think your uncle might have seen me at Killiecrankie. I doubt his feelings will be warmer to me now.”
“Can you go back, Jamie? Won’t they think you a traitor and deserter?”
“I am a traitor and deserter, but they were all so busy running they might just think me dead.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No. There’s nothing that interests me in London anymore. There never really was.”
“Then stay. I’ll speak with my uncle. I’ll talk to the council. I’ll make them listen. You can wait in the hills and I’ll come for you once it’s safe. It was different before. Donald was chief and he wanted me married to Cormac O’Conner. I know I can convince them now.”
He looked at her doubtfully. “Even if you could, now you’re safe I need to see what I can do for Sullivan and his people. They’re my responsibility, and the closest thing I had to family before I met you.”
“Of course you do. I understand that, but you don’t have to do it right this minute. Come with me first. Meet my family. I want to be certain you feel it’s your home.”
He touched a finger lightly to the tip of her nose. “You’re my home, mouse. If I must suffer your ill-natured, ill-mannered, ill-favored family in order to have you, then I’ll try. The question is, will they suffer me?”
Two day’s later, and just a few miles from home, Catherine set a small fire in a clearing on top of a hill. When it burned down to the coals, she smothered it in a thin layer of wet leaves, then used a breacan as a blanket to catch the rising smoke. She released two puffs, followed by a pause, and then three more. After twenty minutes, she did it again, then put the fire out. “Jerrod knows this signal. He’ll see it and come or he won’t. There’s no point making others curious.”
“And will he bring a host of raging Scotsmen with him?”
“No. He’ll recognize it as a private message from me and come alone. We’re the only ones that use it, now my father and my cousin Rory are gone.”
Jerrod burst upon them two hours later. “Lord love you, Cat! You live up to your name! I swear you were born with nine lives though you can nae have more than one or two left.” He enveloped her in a crushing hug. “I saw your signal and my heart almost stopped. I feared it was your ghost sending me a message. When you tumbled in the river, I was certain you were gone. We held a lovely service for you.” He put her down and turned to look at Jamie. “And what have we here? Who’s this fine-looking fellow? You caught yourself a braw fish in the river, it seems. Step forward, lad, don’t be shy.”
Jamie spoke in a slightly bored British drawl. “I’m with the lady, sir. If you’re looking for braw laddies you’d best look elsewhere. Perhaps you can find a pretty sheep that—
“Jamie, stop it!”
“Aha! Sinclair is it? I thought you looked familiar.”
“Good evening, Bucephalus. I’d rather hoped you’d fallen in the river and drowned.”
“So you’re her husband? You’ve a nerve showing your face here, Sassenach. You should be dead with your friends at Killiecrankie. What happened to you? Got mixed up and ran the wrong way?”
“He was there to find me, Uncle. It was he who pulled me from the river and now he’s brought me home. He saved my life. Again. It’s our name you shame by your insults.”
Jamie, standing behind her, gave Jerrod a mocking smile.
“You think it’s funny, Sassenach? I saw you there. Wondered who you were. Didn’t recognize you without a bloody back. You’re big for an Englishman, and you were bashing heads like a Highlander. How many of our lads did you kill?”
“The other day? Or since I first took up the sport?”
They’d been testing each other, both of them bristling like angry wolves, and the instant Jerrod reached for his claymore, Jamie drew his.
“Stop it! This instant! Jamie! You promised to behave. You said you’d try to make things work. Jerrod… he can drop you in a heartbeat, I promise you. I didn’t come here to watch the man I love kill my favorite uncle. Put down your swords!”
Jamie was the first to lower his weapon.
Jerrod followed a moment later. “Well, you did fish her out of the river and bring her back. I’m grateful to you for that,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll see to her now, though, so you can scamper off home.”
“No, Uncle. I want to bring him home with me. That’s why I wanted to speak with you first.”
“Are you barmy, lass? He might pass as a Highlander for a stretch, but he was cutting through men and tossing them in the river at Killiecrankie, his own as well as ours. People take notice of such things. We lost over six hundred men there, Bonnie Dundee as well. As soon as someone recognizes him, the lads will kill him.”
“I’ve no intention of pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Jerrod looked him slowly up and down, noting his kilt and claymore. “No… I can see that, Sassenach. It’s clear as day. What would you do amongst us, then? Do you think to claim our lands through her?” He nodded toward Catherine. “Will you murder your own kind for a bit of land and join us in our rebellion?”
“Twelve Highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion, Uncle. I doubt you’ll be needing me.”
“Ha! He’s a funny one, your man, Cat. Lucky you. What you ask is impossible. To accept him as your husband is to give a Sassenach our lands. He’d best return to his own if they’ll still have him. He’ll find no welcome here.”
“I fear he’s right, love.”
Catherine turned to face him. “Nonsense! I’ll speak to the council as their chief. You are my husband. They’ll have no choice but to accept it.”
Jamie and Jerrod exchanged a look, but they both knew her well enough not to argue.
***
Catherine departed with her uncle early the next morning, anxious to be home again, and anxious to have Jamie safe. She left him waiting on the banks of the Spey, promising to return the next day. Things hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped between him and her uncle. Well, Jerrod tortured him. There’s bound to be tension between them. But they didn’t kill each other. Surely, that’s a promising start.
Her meeting with the council didn’t go any better, despite their joy at her miraculous return. These are dangerous times, they said. How can he be trusted? He could be William’s agent sent to spy. He’d fought with Mackay, who’d killed hundreds of their men, and among them were a dozen of their own. And never forget, Catherine was their chief, but also a young woman. Perhaps he sought ships and lands that couldn’t be had through conquest by using rogue’s tricks: pretty looks, charm, and guile. They were grateful he’d returned her and would gladly see him safely through the Highlands, but they’d give him nothing more.
“Well, what did you expect, lass?” Jerrod asked, when she came to him seeking advice. “It’s war now, and we’ve only just got started. No one will rest until the king is returned to his throne. Your man threw his lot in with William. We can’t be worried about enemies within when we’re preparing to fight enemies without.”
“What do you mean, preparing to fight enemies without? We’ve done our part. We lost several men. None can say the Drummonds didn’t defend their honor and their king. That should be the end of it.”
“But we had a glorious victory, Cat! The momentum’s ours now
. We’re going to take Dunkeld next. Alexander Cannon will lead us. We leave to join him in two day’s time. We’ll crush them as we did at Killiecrankie.”
“No, you won’t. Cannon is not Dundee, and Dunkeld is a town with a walled compound and good defenses. You’ll not be fighting raw recruits, but Camerons and Covenanters, men fanatic enough to be ferocious but not ungovernable like our own. It’s a mistake, just as Killiecrankie was, and it will only waste more men.”
“Killiecrankie a waste? It was one of the most splendid victories the Highlands have ever known! You were there. You were a part of it. Men will tell stories of it, sing songs about it, for years to come.”
“And will that feed us over the winter now our trade with England and the lowlands is gone? Will it bring back any of the fathers, sons, and husbands we lost? I’ve no doubt it’ll fuel that mad taste for glory that seems to run through our race, but it cost us a brilliant commander and a third of our men, and woke a sleeping giant as well. William can’t ignore us anymore.”
“I’d expected more from you, Cat. Your heart’s not in it. Your heart is with your man.”
“That’s so, Jerrod, but it’s never stopped me from seeing my duty. Perhaps your pride is stopping you from seeing yours. We’ve done our part. Now we should take care of our own.”
“You’re right. It is pride, the only thing an old man who’s lost his son has left, but you’ll find it shining bright in all your people, too. It’s a glorious time for the Highlands, lass, and our people want to be a part of it. They need you to lead them where they have to go.”
They’d thought her dead and Jerrod had taken over, and what they wanted was at odds with what lay in her heart. I can’t lead them down a path I know to be wrong, but they won’t follow me anywhere else. There’s nothing more I can do for them. I’m free to follow my heart. She felt a sudden rush of relief, followed by a thrill of excitement.
“No, Uncle Jerrod. For this… they need you.”
***
Catherine hopped over boulders, skipped through streams, and ran up and down hills on her way back to Jamie. The relief she’d felt when she’d made her decision had turned to elation as soon as she’d set out. Decisions that had once seemed agonizing and momentous now seemed obvious and hardly worth a fuss. It was a beautiful day! She bounded from a copse of trees into the clearing and her face fell f lat. The fire was cold, the camp abandoned, and he was gone. Her legs wobbled and she dropped to the ground by the river, her heart pinched and aching, blinking back tears. The sun was setting over her shoulder when she finally left for home.
Thirty-Nine
The thing she hoped for couldn’t be. Jamie had seen it in her uncle’s eyes and the slight shake of his head, no. He’d never really expected it. He’d made his bed. He’d known what he was doing when he’d ruined his chances with James. There was no future left for him in Ireland or Scotland, and now, by going after Catherine, he’d destroyed any future in England as well. He’d taken everything William had given him and thrown it in his face. If he showed himself in London, he’d be branded a coward and deserter, or a traitor to the crown. The best he might hope for was to be taken for dead, one of the first casualties of a Jacobite war. At least then, his lands might pass to Kieran—if the fool could mind his business and get himself a son.
That’s all that remained now. He’d make sure of the arrangements, send the O’Sullivans on to London, and after that… France? Portugal? The East Indies? Spain? There were mercenary companies who weren’t too particular about a man’s past, so long as he knew how to handle a sword.
Catherine had a home, people who cared for her, and a place where she belonged. She was safe. It broke his heart to leave her behind, but the only places left to him were dark and dangerous—the battlefields of Europe, or those places between the cracks where hunted men hide. He had no intention of taking her there with him. He’d never expected anyone to love him, never guessed he’d had so much to give. He’d always survived by taking care of himself. He’d never apologized to anyone, never said a prayer, never asked for help, and never truly cared until he’d met Catherine. He’d warmed to her attention like an eager puppy, making what lay before him that much harder to bear. It seemed ironic that her love, the very thing that gave him faith and hope, was what forced him into exile. If you do exist, you twisted bastard, I bet you’re having a hearty laugh at my expense right now.
He left before she could return. He left knowing that if he saw her he’d beg her to come. He left thinking that maybe, if he’d asked her to, she would have, but a man put what was best for those he loved ahead of what he wanted for himself.
Jamie arrived at Castle Carrick in the midst of noisy celebration. It seemed that Catherine’s girl Maire had finally made Kieran a man. He could expect to be a father soon. At least something was going well. The happy news had led to hurried nuptials, and Jamie arrived in time to kiss the bride and congratulate the groom.
Three nights later, the festivities over and guests long gone, Jamie sat by the fire with Kieran. “Dismal Jimmy’s holding court in Dublin, backed by Talbot’s army. There’s been a Jacobite victory in Scotland, and the French king stirs the pot. William can’t afford to ignore them anymore. There’s going to be fighting, Kieran. You’ve got the girl with child. I want you to stay out of trouble. I want you to take your people and go to London.”
“Abandon my family’s lands? Turn my back on my king? You’re right, milord. Dick Talbot has raised an army and King James sits atop the Irish throne, and any man who loves Ireland knows it’s time to stand tall. For the first time in years, we’ve the chance to reclaim what’s been stolen and make our ancestors and our children proud. There is going to be a war, for Irish independence, and the O’Sullivans won’t be hiding behind an Englishman’s fancy coat. Join us, Jamie. You may be English but you’ve an Irish soul. The king will forgive your betrayal if you return when he needs you. He’s a better man than you think. He’s passed an act that grants religious freedom to all Catholics and Protestants in Ireland. Isn’t that the kind of toleration you’ve always advocated?”
“I won’t join you in the killing of my fellow countrymen, Kieran. The idea doesn’t sit well. As for James, he has his moments. I don’t deny it. But I know him and you don’t. He’s politically inept and he’ll botch the job. He’s cruel when he should be forgiving, weak when he should be resolute, and he puts his pride before his people. I can’t forgive him that. William will crush this rebellion. He’ll land an army the likes of which you haven’t seen since Cromwell, and sweep away anything that stands in his path.”
“He crushes us now! The English turn us into slaves, take our lands, and strip and sell our forests and our fields.”
“It needn’t happen to you. I’ve made arrangements. Go to London and keep clear of this mess. You can keep your bloody lands, Kieran. Christ! You’re executer of my estate, You can have mine as well, if they take me for dead! Think of your mother, think of the girl and your unborn child.”
“I am thinking of them! I want to give them a past and a future that makes them proud. One that belongs to them and hasn’t been lent them by somebody else. How can I do that? How can I face them with pride and honor if I don’t fight for my freedom, if I don’t protect my religion and my king?”
“Maybe you should be more concerned with protecting your family.”
Sullivan jumped to his feet. “And what do you know about family? You don’t even have one. Your own father disowned you! What do you know about having your rights and your dignity abused? You’re one of them. An English occupier! A conqueror! How can you understand honor when you betray your king and country and sell your loyalty for a price? My honor means everything to me, milord, even if yours means nothing to you.”
Jamie felt it like a blow. He’s right. They’re not my family. They never were. That’s just something I made up to keep me warm when I was cold. It took him a moment, but when he stood, his movements were steady, and when he replied
his voice was cool. “Aye, Kieran, you may be right. Perhaps I know nothing of loyalty or honor, but you can’t deny I’ve shown both to you and yours. I’m sick of honorable men with their honorable intentions, honorably killing as they lead their innocent families to grief and ruin. May your precious honor comfort you when your village burns and soldiers lay waste to your fields.” He bowed, and left without a backward glance.
Kieran ran after him. “Wait! Milord! Jamie! I didn’t mean it as it sounded!” But Jamie was deaf to him. He kept on walking, and in a moment he was swallowed by the dark.
***
Two nights later he sat perched on a rock, high in the Galty Mountains. He’d finished his supply of whiskey, and the heavens were dull and sullen, shrouded in cloud. No stars, no moon, no family, no friends, no country, no mouse… nowhere to go. Shit! He hurled the empty f lask over the side, leaning over curiously to watch its fall. It bounced and slid, breaking branches and dislodging pebbles before sliding to a halt. He knew he indulged in self-pity, but he felt entitled, and there was no one to see or know. The years stretched in front of him, bleak and lonely, though probably not too long. Men who lived by their swords didn’t tend to die from old age. Where do I go now?
A fat drop of rain spattered against his cheek, followed by another and another, and then several more. He wagged a finger at the sky. “You really don’t like me much, do you?” The wind picked up suddenly, as if in answer, and he had to slide off his perch or risk being dashed against the rocks below. It battered and pushed in powerful gusts, as if trying to propel him forward, but he squared his shoulders, jammed his hands in his pockets, and refused to be cowed.
By the time he reached the valley f loor, his hair was plastered against his face and neck and water streamed down his back. The wind shivered through the trees with enough force to break branches and set his sodden coat f lapping. It was almost September, and the rain fell hard and cold. He missed his f lask with its honey-sweet whiskey, but he knew where there was more.