Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  They both sat in thought for a long while.

  “The magazine,” said Alice eventually, her voice full of reluctance. “It lies on the floor above the escape window, in the base of a tower which isn’t part o’ the main castle. If we could start a fire there, it would draw the soldiers inside the castle tae fight it, and if it were tae explode that would bring the soldiers outside, too. It would be very dangerous, but it might be our only chance o’ making our escape.”

  Emily nodded to herself. “If we could do that it would strike a hard blow to Clairmont. If the powder reserve were blown up, he would have little chance of defending the castle against attack, nor of marching a strong force out to meet the MacPhersons. They cannot fight without powder! Yes, I think you may have hit upon it. It’s a dangerous and desperate plan, but what other choice do we have? You are right: at all costs, we must get back to Murdo and James and warn them of the danger. When shall we do it?”

  “We shouldnae wait,” said Alice grimly. “Clairmont will be hungover tomorrow with a’ the drink he took tonight – he’ll rise late, and the guard will be sloppy knowing that their commanding officer is still abed. Tonight, we should get our bags ready wi’ some supplies for flight, and tomorrow we should strike.”

  But they did not get the chance. To the great surprise of both the women, Clairmont rose at a wickedly early hour.. It must have been planned in advance, for all was ready for a great expedition. Devastated the fact he would march before they could enact their plan, Alice and Emily watched the spectacle from the top of a tower which they were permitted to ascend to, in the company of a dour soldier.

  Atop the tower, they stood side-by-side with their hands resting on the rough stone balustrade, looking out at the field below them. Passed the dark waters of the moat the entire garrison was drawn up in perfectly neat ranks of red and black figures, a force several hundred strong. Clairmont, Captain Nasmith, and a small group of their staff were the only mounted men. This small group of commanders stood in front of the massed ranks of soldiers, and Emily felt little hope for her brave Highlanders. Perhaps, given a chance to choose their own ground, Murdo and his men could have out-manoeuvred this formidable, well-trained force of soldiers, but betrayed and ambushed? She could not see it. The bayonets of the soldiers glittered like jewels, where the early rays of the sun touched them.

  As they watched, they became aware that another column of infantry was approaching from the direction of the town. Even from this distance, she could hear the rat-tat-tat of a drum as they marched in file toward Clairmont’s men. Emily and Alice watched with interest as this new group joined the first, drawing itself up to one side before a third of them peeled off from the main group and paced toward the castle.

  “They must be reinforcements tae garrison the castle wi’,” said Alice to Emily in a low voice, for their dour guard was standing too close for comfort. “We cannae wait. We hae no’ a moment tae lose. It will hae tae be soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Another hour went by before a signal was given, and Clairmont’s soldiers marched out. Alice and Emily took careful note of the direction they went, thinking of the directions provided in Ewan’s second missive. The River Coll, little more than a stream in a deep cutting, ran past the castle to the east and disappeared into the trees, and the soldiers seemed to be taking their direction from it. When the redcoats vanished into the trees, the two women turned to go back down the stairs.

  “Look,” said Alice, catching her arm and pointing. South and west of the castle, a long swathe of rugged open country swept away beside the shadowy waters of great Loch Linnhe. To the south the land was green and verdant, pockmarked with little stands of tamed woodland and the smoke of villages, disappearing off into the haze. But Alice was pointing west, and when Emily looked, she gasped to see the bright shaft of morning sunlight that smote the sides of the vast Nevis mountain range. She felt her back straighten, and her heart lift.

  “For the love of the glens,” she muttered to herself, and Alice nodded.

  There was an ugly surprise in store for them back in their room. A big, red-faced man dressed in the uniform of an officer of the army was sitting at his ease in the more comfortable of the two chairs beside the fire. Two soldiers stood at attention behind him, rigid and with their guns on their shoulders. It was an incongruous sight and an unpleasant surprise for the two women, who had come to regard the little room as a safe and private space. The man in the chair smelled of drink, sweat, and horses, and with his two soldiers, he seemed to clutter up the little room. His muddy boots were propped on their tidy hearth.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, in an accent which was redolent of the lowland Scottish gentry rather than of the English. “Here are a pair a’ beauties, eh? Hev ye e’er seen sic dour faces upon sic bonnie wee queans?”

  He seemed to be addressing the soldiers, but neither of them spoke. He looked hard at Emily.

  “My name is Cameron. Lieutenant Reginald Cameron and I am in temporary command o’ this god-forsaken outpost while Clairmont is out chasing rebels and nae doubt gaining his promotion up the ranks while doing so! Mr. Wallace has gone with them as a member of Major Clairmont’s staff. And that, my dear young lassies, means I am in charge o’ keeping you two safe and sound until he and the Major get back. There will be a guard on your door every hour of the day, and the door locked too. While I am in charge of the castle, ye shall not leave this room under any circumstance, it that clear? Clairmont will go far in his career, for he has all the energy a man requires to do so. His friends may benefit from his great regard, so I will make sure that the charge he has laid on me, to keep you two safe, will be well-carried out.”

  He did not wait for comment, but stood, looking around the room.

  “For now,” he gestured toward the younger of the two soldiers, “Corporal Tomkins here will take first watch on the door. I shall see that ample drinking water and food are brought up, so you needn’t worry about that. Corporal Tomkins?”

  “Sir,” said the soldier.

  “To your watch upon the door, please. Ladies, do ye hev anything to say?”

  Both Emily and Alice shook their heads mutely. The big man gave a sneering laugh.

  “Very well, then,” and strode from the room, followed by his escort. The women caught a glimpse of Corporal Tomkins, taking up his post to the left of the doorway before Lieutenant Cameron slammed the door and turned the key in the lock.

  It took them a little while to recover from the shock. For some time, neither of them could see how they could possibly carry out their plan with a guard permanently at the door.

  “And what good will it do now, anyway” Emily looked into the fire gloomily, “since we are surely too late to catch up with the soldiers even if we do escape?”

  “We hae tae try!” said Alice firmly. “I hae an idea...”

  * * *

  Corporal Tomkins was good at this kind of duty. He could stand guard all day long and never become bored or stiff. He had a technique of continually flexing different groups of muscles in his legs that allowed him to stand for long periods without developing cramp. At nineteen, he was proud of his role in the army and proud that his uncomplaining and patient nature caused him to often be picked for guard duty.

  He particularly enjoyed these long, empty periods, because they gave a man time to think. Tomkins greatly enjoyed thinking, and since guard duty rarely – if ever – involved any actual action, he was able to indulge himself in long sessions of internal invention and contemplation, the likes of which the other men in his company – who were forever talking or playing dice or drinking, and all hated long periods of guard duty – seemed incapable of appreciating.

  At nineteen, it was not particularly surprising that one of his favourite reveries was the subject of women.

  The two women on the other side of the door were a rich vein for his imagination. Alone in the corridor, he shifted his weight softly from foot to foot as he thought of the pretty
dark eyes and dark hair of one, and the fiery red locks and defiant snap in the eyes of the other. Tomkins considered them both very fair in their own way. As a soldier, he had had little contact with women, still less with attractive women of his own age, and it struck him as a particularly fine thing to be a strong young man in charge of guarding the door of this pair.

  What was going on behind the door? Were they talking? Eating? Perhaps they would feel the need to wash... yes, women were always washing, weren’t they? And since they were not to leave the room... He imagined how they would heat water in the kettle and fill a tub, and perhaps the redhead would not be able to reach that spot on her back and the other, the dark-haired one, would have to help her. He imagined that while engaged in this pleasant activity, they might find they needed the help of someone stronger than themselves to move the full tub a little way across the room. He was under orders not to leave the door under any circumstances, but there was no prohibition against him helping the women if they needed it. Yes, the tub would need to be moved away from the fire a little, and while he was there, perhaps the dark-haired one would decide that she wished him to help wash her back, too...

  Tomkins shifted surreptitiously, adjusting the tight trousers that he wore to give himself a little more room. He smiled to himself. There was nobody about. He would slip into the room, and there would be puffs of steam, and both of them in a state of undress, embarrassed perhaps, but also a little thrilled by the presence of a strong man in the room with them. Had they ever seen a real fighting man? He thought not. Perhaps they would not be able to control themselves in his presence. Women loved strong fighting men, didn’t they? Of course, they did, and the uniform of the redcoats was likely to turn any woman’s head, even these ignorant Scotch girls. He could show them a thing or two; that he could...

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a soft knocking at the door to his side. His heart, already beating quickly, raced. He jumped with fright at being disturbed from his thoughts, and now he glanced quickly up and down the long corridor to make sure no-one was in sight. He was utterly alone, of course. The knocking was repeated, and a melodious voice reached his ears from the other side of it. The voice was calling him by name.

  “Corporal Tomkins? Can ye hear me, Corporal?”

  Confronted with his dream, he found himself suddenly a very different man to the confident Lothario of his fantasy. His heart raced, and his mouth was dry. Good God, what if they really were in a state of undress and needed something heavy moved?

  Pull yourself together, corporal. Resting his rifle against the wall, he leaned toward the keyhole of the low wooden door and spoke to the voice.

  “I can hear you, miss. Are you alright? Is there something you need?”

  “Oh, corporal,” said the voice from behind the door in an urgent tone, “there is a...”, but the words that followed were muffled, and he could not make them out.

  “A what?” he said.

  “Will ye help us? There’s a...” again, that muffled word which he could not quite make out. But the voice sounded concerned and even frightened. What could it be, a fire?

  It did not take him long to make his decision. He would open the door and see what they needed help with. They were only two women, after all. There was nothing they could do against him. And perhaps, he thought with a smile, they really did want him for something else! It must be dreadfully dull on the other side of the door.

  Tomkins lifted the heavy key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock. It turned with a satisfying click, and the door swung open silently on its oiled hinges. The room was warm and cosy, and the shutters were closed, the only light coming from the dancing flames in the hearth and a rack of candles on the table opposite. He took a step or two into the room and glanced around. The dark-haired woman was in front of him, smiling pleasantly, but far from being in a state of undress as he had imagined, she seemed to be dressed as if for a journey. The red-haired woman was nowhere to be seen.

  “Do you need something, miss?”

  “Yes,” said the dark-haired woman, smiling and crouching down, pointing at the floor. “Just here.”

  Corporal Tomkins took two steps toward her and looked down. Emily, who had been waiting behind the door, stepped forward. She shouldered the door closed and brought the heavy glass water carafe down upon the back of his head with all the force she could muster. It was full – she had made sure of that – and it was very heavy. The thickly whorled glass did not shatter, but Tomkins went to his knees like a felled tree under the force of the unexpected blow. He swayed a moment, and she hit him again. He fell flat, the blood pooling on the ground around his head.

  “Quickly!”Emily cried, putting down the water-carafe and gathering the young man’s arms behind him as Alice rushed forward with coiled strips of fabric they had ripped from the bedsheets. They bound his wrists ruthlessly behind his back. For a moment, Emily wondered if she had killed him, but he began to revive a little as they pulled off his boots to tie his ankles.

  Tomkins groaned and tried to raise his head, and Alice yanked his head up and stuffed a wad of sheet into his mouth, before binding it around with another strip. With their guard trussed effectively, they dragged him by the shoulders over to one of the beds and dumped him face-down behind it.

  “No’ a moment tae lose,” said Alice, but Emily stooped and rifled the man’s belt and pockets before she left. She took a long dagger from his belt, a pouch of cartridges and shot, and his copy of the key to their room. He struggled feebly and made a muffled groan through the gag as she stood up to leave. They left, locking the door behind them.

  “Maist o’ the men will hae been posted tae guard the outside o’ the castle,” said Alice. “We must trust tae guile tae get us past the guard at the door o’ the magazine.”

  “Will we?” Why don’t we trust to this instead?” Emily lifted Corporal Tomkins’ rifle from beside the door. Alice raised her eyebrows.

  “Indeed!Dae ye ken how tae use it?”

  “I do,” Emily smiled at the thought “Murdo showed me how it worked one day on the journey, and I’ve seen them fired often enough. Do you?”

  “Aye,” said Alice. “I dae. Is it primed and loaded?”

  Emily checked and nodded.

  The two women were bundled in all the extra travelling clothes they could fit, making full use of the supplies old McCrimmon had brought them before being taken off the duty of looking after them. They had food in their packs and warm clothes on their backs, and full waterskins too. If they could only get out of the castle, they would be well-set.

  They met with no resistance as they made their way along the corridors and down the stair. When they came to the window looking over the moat, they stopped and looked out. Sure enough, beyond the slow-moving brown water, they could see red-coated figures moving back and forth in regular patrol.

  The magazine – a great square room in the lowest floor of the castle’s high western drum tower – was along the corridor and down another flight of stairs. The two women moved cautiously in that direction. Nearing the end of the hallway, they peeked around the corner. Only one man guarded the door.

  Alice motioned for Emily to hold her position, before slipping around the corner and out of sight. Emily heard her voice as she addressed the guard.

  “Oh, sir, I am one o’ the serving maids o’ the castle. Lieutenant Cameron sent me down tae ye, tae ask if ye will tak’ yer dinner wi’ him this night? He wishes tae honor ye, I think.”

  “What?” the soldier was incredulous. “Is this some kind of joke? Good God, woman, everyone knows that the Lieutenant never eats of drinks with the enlisted men. Who are you? What is...”

  He gave a strangled gasp as Emily took her cue and darted around the corner. Alice looked pale but determined. The soldier was on his knees before her, clutching at his chest. A long knife was in Alice’s hand. Even as the soldier fell forward onto his face, Alice was rummaging at his belt.

  “The key!”
she whispered triumphantly. “Efter a’, it seems a bit too easy, does it no’?”

  She slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open, revealing a long, low room, stacked to the ceiling with barrels of powder. Alice gave a low whistle.

  “This will go up wi’ a bang if we can get it going. Help me start the fire.”

  They had planned for this. Emily took from a pouch at her side a long strip of cloth they had prepared earlier by soaking it in candle wax. Together, they yanked the lid off one of the powder barrels and laid one end of the long taper across the grainy powder inside. They put the other end on the floor, as far away as possible.

  Emily struck a light. It took a moment, but soon the end of the taper smouldered and smoked, and then took flame. It burned quicker than they had expected.

  “Come quick,” said Alice. “We will hide were planned until the explosion, then we will mak’ our escape.”