Murdo and Ewan knew how to cover ground quickly. They avoided the open areas, sticking to the cover of the trees or the heather and watching closely for any sign of an enemy scout. It was true that Inveraray was easily two full days away for a party of fifty men with gear and horses in tow, but for a fast man unburdened it was little more than a day. Both men had resolved to get as close to the town as possible, following the route the larger force would follow before turning back. They made good progress but were still further than they would have liked when they came upon a patrol.
“Ye see the redcoats?” Ewan whispered close to his companion as they lay on their bellies at the edge of the woods.
“Aye, I dae so; four o’ them and wi’ little enough skill in scouting by the looks o’ it.”
Below them, four uniformed soldiers were moving without care through the knee-high undergrowth. Rifles were in their hands and bayonets glinted in the pale sunlight. Murdo would have been willing to bet that the guns were primed and loaded. He had only his broadsword and a dirk at his side, but Ewan had brought a pair of pistols.
“Ye tak’ and prime yer pistols, Ewan. We’ll move tae yon high bank ower there an’ wait ‘til they come under it, then ye can fire on them frae one side. When they turn tae face yer fire, I’ll come at them from behind wi’ my sword, and ye can join me.”
It came off perfectly. Ewan discharged his pistols one after the other just as the soldiers reached the high bank. The first shot caught one of the soldiers, and he dropped to one knee with a grunt, but bravely raised his rifle and prepared to fire into the woods where Ewan sat sheltered behind a boulder. Ewan fired his second pistol, and the man slumped to the ground without returning fire.
The three remaining soldiers raised their rifles and looked for their target as Murdo dropped from the high bank with a yell. He landed in their midst, his dirk in one hand and his sword in the other. One soldier fell immediately. Another tackled Murdo with his bayonet while the other – by far the youngest of the soldiers – moved away, looking around with panic in his eyes, his musket shaking in his hands.
The man facing Murdo was lithe and fast and good with the bayonet. They grappled, but Murdo held him at bay with the broadsword whilst attacking with his dirk: the engagement was over very quickly after that. As Ewan charged out from the woods, the young soldier fired aimlessly before dropping his rifle and fleeing with the speed of a frightened rabbit.
Ewan grabbed the rifle of the first soldier. Taking aim at the young, soldier, he fired deliberately high into the air. They had not thought the lad could run any faster, but he did.
“Damn him,” muttered Ewan. “But English or no, I willnae shoot an unarmed laddie in the back.”
“Aye, right enough, but ye’d better go efter him. If ye can get a hold o’ him and stop him frae reporting back for a wee while We’ll drag the bodies o’ these soldiers intae the bracken then I’ll return tae the men an’ set them marching, Ye must meet us on the way wi’ any news.”
* * *
Alice and Emily avoided the Major. In the days following his arrival, it seemed that Clairmont was everywhere in the castle. If the women went walking into the tamed woodland, they found Clairmont with a group of his men surveying the land. If they sat in the kitchen garden, he would come out to sit on the little stone bench by the door and smoke his clay pipe in the sun. He was never overly forward with them, but Emily felt his eyes on her whenever their paths crossed. She hated it, and Alice saw Emily’s distaste on her expressive face.
“Ye cannae stand that man’s eyes upon ye, can ye?” Alice pinned her mistress’s hair into place for the evening.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only tae me, miss.”
“I do not know what it is Alice, truly I do not. He is a comely enough man, and his prospects are good. Many women of my age and station in life would be happy with such a match. Father always told me that I would likely take a fighting man for a husband and...”
“Comely?!” Alice burst out with a snort, somewhere between laughter and distaste. “Ye think the cauld eyes and thinning hair comely? Ah, miss, ye havenae seen a real fighting man, hae ye? Get ye a look at yon rebels in the hills, then ye’ll see real fighting men I do not doubt.”
Emily shuddered. “I’m not sure I would like that! Anyway, I am somewhat homely to look upon myself, with this hair and my big jaw. I cannot imagine any handsome warrior looking in my direction.”
Alice moved behind Emily and caught up her mass of flaming curls in both hands, framing her face with them. Leaning down, she placed her cheek near to her friend’s, and they gazed at their reflections in the mirror for a moment.
She spoke seriously to Emily. “I think mistress that ye may no’ hae such a good idea o’ what men desire in a lass. Ye hae the face o’ a Scots noblewoman and yer hair and face speak o’ strength, courage and determination. Perhaps in England, such things arnae considered desirable in a woman’s countenance. But I look at ye, and I dinnae see a homely woman. I see a queen and a fit match for the finest warrior in a’ this land.”
She straightened up suddenly, and her tone became lighter. “And to be sure, I see a woman who could make a better match than that buzzard of a Major!”
* * *
Later that night, Emily woke with a sudden gasp from a dream of fear. Sweat slicked her back, and the blankets were rucked up and tangled about her. The low light of the remains of the fire lit the little room with a ruddy glow. Emily felt stifled, and she kicked the blankets off and lay there panting, looking toward the fire. From the side room, she could hear Alice’s steady breathing.
Grabbing her heavy shawl from its peg, she flung it around her shoulders. The door swung open silently to her touch, and she stepped into the corridor. It was blessedly cool. Moonlight penetrated the darkness and in her bare feet, she silently padded along the corridor, making for a spot which Alice had shown her. Through a door at the far end of the corridor, a little balcony stood open to the night air. It was just big enough for two people to stand side-by-side, and a trick of the architecture meant that it commanded a good view but was almost entirely hidden from the sight of anyone on the ground.
This was her destination. When she gained the balcony, the cool night breeze made her gasp and breathe deeply. The moon was bright and almost full, casting deep shadows over the town and the woods below and reflected bright on the still surface of the loch. All was quiet. She felt the tension leave her body with each breath and leaned on the balcony taking in the magnificent view.
When a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, she jumped and nearly cried out in fear. Before she could turn, a hoarse voice spoke close to her ear.
“You run a great risk out here all alone. Who knows what could happen?”
Chapter Four
Emily could not turn. The heavy hand gripped her shoulder like iron, and it was impossible to move. Luckily it only lasted for a moment, and hand released her. Turning, she saw Clairmont, easing his way out of the doorway onto the small balcony. It was a small space, and they were forced to stand close to one another – closer than she would have liked.
“A beautiful spot.”
Although he did not quite slur his words, his breath was rank with the smell of spirits. He put his hands on the balustrade and leaned over, making a show of breathing deeply.
“I am sorry if I startled you, my dear Miss Nasmith, but it’s true. You really ought to be careful. This castle may seem well-defended, but many Scots are living here too. You may not think the serving folk of a castle would pose any threat to a noblewoman like yourself, but you might be surprised at what they are capable of; a vicious people the Scots, for all their pretensions to gentility. One need only to scratch the surface to find the savage below, used to taking what he desires without thought for the consequences.”
He looked her up and down, openly admiring her figure in her flimsy night-dress.
“And what are you doing here, were you perhaps waiting for somebo
dy?”
“No, sir, I could not sleep. I desired some fresh air and knowing this spot is private with a good view... but now, I am beginning to feel the cold and will wish you goodnight, Major Clairmont.”
She moved as if to pass him, but he caught her arm, and suddenly they were very close.
“Not leaving so soon, surely? I have regretted not being able to get better acquainted with you. Your father seems so keen for us to get to know one another.”
“Please, sir, you are hurting me.”
“Oh, surely not?”
His voice was smooth and suave, but his eyes glinted with cruelty. He did not slacken his grip but drew her closer.
“Come Miss Nasmith... Emily. Let us not be coy. Your father desires a match between us and I am inclined to agree, so there should be no more to say on the matter. But I do like to know what I’m getting before I commit myself.”
His other hand was on her hip. She wanted to cry out, to flee, but her mouth was dry as parchment, and she felt paralysed. He leaned in to kiss her mouth, and there was nothing she could do. His hand moved up from her hip, touching her shamelessly before gripping the back of her head so she could not squirm away. The smell of his sweat, spirits and tobacco were so overpowering that she wanted to gag.
As soon as he let her go, she fled, though the door, down the corridor and back into the safety of her room, his callous laughter echoing down the passageway behind her.
* * *
“We hae made good time.”
Murdo sat with his father as they surveyed the country before them. It was mid-morning and the men, weary from a long night march, were putting the camp together in a sheltered hollow near a rippling stream.
“Aye,” said James. “The toon is just a day’s march away ower yon ridge. We’ll hae tae be cautious for scouts now, though the country round here is wild enough that they will have little chance o’ finding us if we’re careful.”
Murdo looked thoughtful. “I’m troubled that Ewan hasnae returned yet, but perhaps he’s taken it intae his heid tae scout a little further around the toon. I hope he caught the soldier that escaped us.”
“Ye rely too much on yon man,” James admonished. “Friend or no, he’s a MacPhail, no’ a MacPherson, and ye cannae trust a man fae ootside your ain clan the same as ye’d trust a clansman.”
“Och, no’ this again. Ewan is staunch and true. How long has he ridden and fought wi’ us? Whit mair would ye want o’ the man? He cannae help his name.”
“Aye, weel,” James grumbled, “I just hope he comes back wi’ some helpful tidings for us when he does return.”
It was decided that Murdo would walk out to the ridge, then down into the woodland which surrounded the town of Inveraray. He desired to look more closely upon the town himself and get an idea of the layout of the place and the defense they would face when they attacked. His father wanted to rest his men for at least a day and a night before acting agreed, and Murdo packed overnight supplies and prepared to leave.
He was just about to make his way when Ewan returned. Murdo was surprised to find he was leading three horses.
“Did ye catch the soldier?”
“No, I pursued him as ye telt me tae, but the troop had horses tethered tae a tree a mile or so off. When he got tae them, he grabbed one and fled. I thought it better to bring these three back here than tae try tae follow him a’ the way back tae Inveraray.”
“That’s good sense, they are good horses to be sure, and horses are one thing we lack.”
His friend went back to the camp, and Murdo went on his way. The horses were a fine haul. They were hung with saddlebags full of shot, powder, brandy, cheese and hard bread, and a number of gold coins.
“Weel done, Ewan,” said James, when he heard of Ewan’s haul. “A MacPhail ye may be, but ye’re an asset tae our cause right enough.”
* * *
“Oh, it was horrible!” Alice held her mistresses hands and tried her best to sooth the girl. She was concerned about her mistress. When Emily had crashed into the room the night before, she had been barely coherent. Alice was relieved when Emily had managed to find out what had happened and was relieved that it had only been a forced kiss.
Now they sat by the open window in the morning sunshine, the fire crackling in the hearth despite the promised heat of the day. Emily was crying.
“I cannot believe that my father would wish me to marry such a man as that. When he kissed me, I thought... Oh, I thought he would want more. And he could have done, you know. There would have been nothing I could have done. He let me go. Such cruel eyes! Oh, Alice, if my father married me to that man, I should die!”
“Oh, come now, mistress Emily, dinnae say such things! A’ is weel for now. They surely cannae expect ye tae marry here in this fortress, and him on a mission. They’d hae to get a special dispensation frae the Duke of Argyll since this is his castle. Its no’ as easy as a’ that. Ye are safe for the moment mistress.”
Emily took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at her friend.
“I’m not going out into the castle today, I’m staying here. You must bring food to the room and lock the door when you are not here.”
“Aye, miss, very weel. If that’s whit ye desire, so it shall be.”
Emily nodded and became a little calmer. She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
They did as she wished that day, hiding in the little suite of rooms which were their own. When Captain Nasmith sent a messenger to inquire after his daughter, Alice sent a message back saying that her mistress had a terrible headache and was not able to go out.
Early the next day, whilst the women were dressing, another message came. Alice and Emily had spent the previous day deep in talk, and Alice had managed to give Emily the boost in confidence she so obviously needed.
“Ye cannae stay cooped up in this wee room forever, miss. Ye must stand up tae them.”
She had given Alice a knife; a little jeweled dagger with a wicked blade and a dull sheath which would sit at her hip. Emily resolved that she would follow her friend’s advice and would show strength and courage, even if she did not feel it. It was true; they could not force her to marry, at least not here.
But when the message came, it was surprising to them both. Captain Nasmith desired to hunt for deer in the forest above Inveraray Castle. He invited his daughter to join him and suggested that the fresh air would be good for her present ill health. Emily was inclined to refuse the invitation, but Alice advised her against it.
“After a’, whit harm can it dae tae go riding for the efternoon? Ye have said yersel’ how bored ye hae been recently. It will dae ye good, Miss.”
Emily acceded and found herself riding out alongside her father and a group of Scots servants from the castle. She was dressed in a simple riding costume, a dress of rich forest green fabric which allowed her much more flexibility than the elaborate dresses she was usually expected to wear. It felt good to be in the saddle again, and despite her anxiety and preoccupation, she found herself breathing deep and opening up to the day.
Her father rode close beside her. “Well, my dear, all is safe in the woods as far as the top of the ridge, though we had some troubling news yesterday. Major Clairmont sent a scouting party north. They were attacked, and only one man made it back. He arrived at the castle yesterday. From his report, it seems that the rebels must be camped some days away from here. Doubtless, they wish to harry the travellers on the road and raid the cattle near the town and the surrounding villages. Major Clairmont will soon organise a strong force to scour the hills and make short work of them. But we have nothing to fear from within sight of the castle. But stay close.”
Emily nodded but did not say anything in return. She thought about the rebels. Her father and Clairmont spoke of them with an airy disdain, as little better than savages and highwaymen, but Alice painted a much nobler picture; indeed, her own brother had gone with the rebels. Emily did not recognise the portrait of the Scots Clairmont had painted.
All the Scots Emily had ever met were kind, thoughtful, intelligent and courteous. They were perhaps a little rough around the edges, but she had never seen cruelty, definitely not the near-animal savagery that Clairmont and Captain Nasmith assumed lurked below the surface of every Scottish man.
“Emily,” her father added rather awkwardly, “you do realise that Major Clairmont would be an excellent match for you, my dear?”
She stiffened in her saddle, knowing this was coming. Indeed, it seemed her father’s main purpose for the expedition. She had already noted that Clairmont was nowhere to be seen in the hunting party.
“I recognise that he would be a satisfactory match in terms of property, but father dear, the man is really not to my liking.”
“Not to your liking? He has a promising career, military contacts, a wealthy family and a rich inheritance in due course? There are twelve thousand acres of land in Shropshire, and Charlington Hall of course; one of the best old manor houses in that part of the country. Goodness, my dear, but you must have developed a curious taste in men! What’s not to like?”
Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1) Page 3