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

by Kenna Kendrick

  The muskets fired their last volley, and the melee troops began to move forward. It was terrible ground, and they were hampered by the cramped spaces and fallen bodies of their comrades after the initial attack. They lumbered forward, gaining speed, Murdo at one end and James at the other raised a great shout which was taken up by the men.

  The redcoats raised their muskets. Clairmont had waited until the ineffective Scottish rifles had finished their drill; he was content to sacrifice a few of his men, he had more. Clairmont knew that the real power of the Highlanders was in the devastation of their charge, and had picked his ground and held back his volleys until the melee troops were before him. He could see them now, slogging through the smoke and the falling rain, grey shapes like the ghosts they soon would become. He smiled a twisted smile at the thought.

  “Can you see the leader?” asked Captain Nasmith at his side. Clairmont shook his head impatiently.

  “He will be there, hold fire for a little longer - I want to wait until every volley has the full effect.”

  On the hillside above, the light infantry rallied and set to against the scouts again. Hamish had fallen, wounded, and Robert stood over him with his sword swinging. The other Highlanders were gathered around him, back-to-back as they held off the attackers. Robert glanced up and saw movement. A straight-backed figure in a tattered dress with a woollen shawl about her shoulders rode a plucky grey horse past where they fought. Her red hair was unbound and flowed like a river of fire down her back. Her head was held up proudly as she urged her horse into a gallop. She rode past them, down the hill, and out in front of the English guns.

  Chapter Thirty

  “There he is,” Clairmont called with a sneer, pointing towards the end of the advancing line of Scottish soldiers. “See, Nasmith, there’s the scum, on foot with the rest of the rabble.”

  Captain Nasmith peered where the major was pointing and saw the tall and imposing figure of Murdo MacPherson striding alongside his men. As he watched, the man looked to one side, his face transformed from a look of determination to a look of horror.

  “Get ready to give the order to fire,” said Clairmont, and Nasmith raised his hand in the prearranged signal.

  “Prepare!” screamed the officers at the end of each rank, and the soldiers hefted their heavy muskets to their shoulders and took aim. The officers were watching him, awaiting the order to fire, but as he held his hand in the air awaiting Clairmont’s word, his eyes followed Murdo’s gaze. He saw a white figure on a grey horse, red hair blazing out behind her, galloping full-tilt into the rapidly-closing gap between the two forces. His eyes could not make sense of what he was seeing, but then her eyes met his and recognition hit him like a thunderclap. It was Emily. She pulled her horse up hard, right in the middle of the line of infantry and glared at her father over the heads of the soldiers. His hand trembled in the air where he held it aloft. All he had to do was bring in down in a cutting motion, and the guns of the infantry would cut his daughter to pieces. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.

  “Good God!” the sardonic voice of Clairmont rose beside him. “She is a plucky one! How on earth did she get here? Well, it’s a pity, but I’m afraid there’s no helping it. Give the order, captain.”

  Captain Nasmith did not give the order. Instead, he clenched his hand into a fist and lowered it.

  “Hold!” he shouted to the officer nearby. “Hold fire!”

  “Hold,” the response screeched, and the soldiers lifted the muzzles of their rifles, glancing around in confusion. Behind Emily, the Highlanders were gaining speed, rapidly closing the gap. Murdo left his place, sprinting across the rocky ground toward his wife, but still, Emily’s eyes were on her father.

  “Captain, I’m disappointed in you!” said Clairmont in a bland voice. “Letting your personal feelings get in the way of your duty? Really, I thought better of you. Ah well, it cannot be helped.”

  Clairmont lifted his hand in the air, his eyes on the officers. Then his head swivelled as he looked hard at Nasmith, as if challenging the captain, daring him to defy the inevitable He raised one eyebrow and his lips twisted into a cold, satisfied smile.

  Captain Nasmith launched himself from his horse. He had a moment to register Clairmont’s sardonic, self-satisfied expression turning to one of surprise and shock when he slammed into his superior officer’s midriff. Clairmont’s horse reared and danced away in anger, as the two men tumbled down and landed with a thud on the hard, muddy ground.

  Clairmont landed on his back, the full weight of the captain driving the wind from him. He gasped for air, but could not catch his breath. Stars swam before his eyes as he clutched at his attacker, but Captain Nasmith was attacking him with all the ferocity of an animal defending its young.

  * * *

  As soon as Emily saw her father leap toward Clairmont, she turned and spurred her horse toward the advancing Highlanders. It was then she saw Murdo, sprinting toward her, and she slowed a little, reaching out her hand to him. He took her meaning and grabbed her hand, leaping like a gazelle into the air and swinging up onto the back of her horse. Steady wobbled a little under the sudden extra weight, but Emily soothed her with a word. He put his arms around her waist, and the Highlanders gave a great cheer when they saw their leader and his wife come thundering back toward them.

  James ran up to them as the highland ranks parted to admit them. His face shone with delight, a fierce fire in his eyes.

  “Get awa’, the pair o’ ye!” he cried to them. “Awa’! Back tae Rowan Glen and then tae the magnificent castle at Glenoran. Now that ye are back wi’ us, Emily, I can fight here wi’ hope in my heart, for ye baith shall continue the line o’ the MacPherson clan. Awa’ wi’ ye!”

  He turned and ran back to his post at the end of the line, but Emily and Murdo did not obey his instructions. Instead, Emily rode back a little way and turned, looking over the scene of the battle.

  “I cannae leave yet,” said Murdo into her ear.

  “No,” she replied. “I know you can’t. Go on now.” She kissed him as he slipped from the back of her horse and sprinted into the battle.

  * * *

  Behind the English ranks, all was chaos. The officers, not knowing what to do, glanced around nervously. The soldiers had their rifles primed and ready, but nobody was giving the order to fire. Finally, two soldiers managed to drag Captain Nasmith, still swinging his fists, off the prostrate figure of Major Clairmont. Clairmont moaned but did not move from where he lay.

  At last, one of the officers took matters into his hands and gave the order to fire, but it was too late. The guns managed to fire one round before the highland charge crashed into them with unstoppable force. Like a dam breaking, the redcoats gave way, and the Highlanders poured through the gap, encircling them.

  The English reserves, having been held back in preparation hurried forward and joined the battle, charging straight into the melee. It was a mess and confusion reigned in the close little glen.

  On one slope of the glen, Robert and Hamish’s scouts had seen off the redcoat skirmishers, who had broken and fled back down the hill when they saw their commander falling from his horse. The uninjured scouts ran down the hill, only to be met by Murdo as they ran toward the fight.

  “Come wi’ me,” cried Murdo. “There are mair o’ the skirmishers up on the other side. We must deal wi’ them and get a message through tae the cavalry.”

  “Lead on, then!” cried Robert and the little party ran across the valley floor and up the hill on the other side. As they ran, they passed Emily standing calmly beside her grey horse, watching events unfold.

  The battle seemed to be in danger of degenerating into a slaughter, with neither side gaining the upper hand, when the Grant cavalry held in reserve, came thundering around the hilltop and crashed into the flank of the English infantry. Murdo led the scouts up the hill and made short work of the remaining light infantry who still held their positions, sniping at the Highlanders who were fig
hting on the ground. With the slope secure, he sent one of the scouts over the hill with the message for the cavalry. It was well that he did, for among the light infantry they found the body of the messenger James had sent. His message had not got through.

  It was over fairly quickly after that. The remnants of the English force broke and fled, and a large number of them threw down their weapons and surrendered when they found they were surrounded on all sides by the victorious highland enemy. The cavalry carved a path through their massed ranks like none of the redcoats had ever seen, dropping their muskets onto the ground, they fell to their knees, begging for mercy.

  The Highlanders were not cruel in victory. They rounded up the prisoners and tied their hands behind their backs, marching them back up the glen, away from the scene of the battle. A detachment of cavalry was sent to pursue those who had fled.

  It was James himself who found Clairmont, unconscious and laying in the mud and almost trampled by the battle that had swept over him. James ordered him lifted up and bound and carried over to where the Highlanders were now setting up a hasty camp. A fire was being lit, and the wounded - highlander and redcoat alike - were brought to it, wounds bandaged and broken bones set. Captain Nasmith was there too, his red coat, white wig, and black tricorne hat all gone. He stood tall, proud and defiant, in his muddy and bloody shirt sleeves, with his wrists tied behind his back.

  Emily came forward to help tend to the wounded. She was binding up a cut on a McGraw man’s arm when James approached her.

  “We hae yer faither ower yonder, Emily, by the fire, and Major Clairmont is there, too, though he’s no’ in a fit state tae stand, still less tae speak. Yer faither is asking for ye though.”

  Emily sighed.

  “Very well, I shall come. Just let me finish here.”

  She took her time over the bandage, and when done she stood, wiped her hands, and walked steadily over to the fire. Most of the English wounded were some way away, being tended and watched warily by Grants and McGraws. The unwounded English prisoners - nearly a hundred of them - were tied together and sat on the ground under heavy guard on the other side of the glen.

  “So, father,” said Emily wearily, as she stood before him. “We meet again.”

  He bowed his head and said nothing. Murdo came over and stood beside her, and Captain Nasmith raised his head, looking at him.

  “Sir,” said Nasmith, unable to retrain a small smile. “You are my daughter’s husband, I understand?”

  “Aye,” replied Murdo stiffly, “I am that. I am pleased tae meet ye, sir, though I regret that I willnae be able tae shake yer hand. I am aware that ye have rendered some service tae us in this fight.”

  Nasmith looked at his daughter.

  “Yes, I suppose I have. Emily, I am sorry. You may do what you wish with me; I have broken my duty as a soldier and betrayed my commanding officer, and my life is forfeit in the British army. I cannot go back. But I have no regrets. The man would have shot you, Emily.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I am sorry. I was a fool and blinded by my own assumptions. He would have shot you without a second thought. Ever since that night when he got drunk, I had begun to realise my error, and when I looked in his eyes and he gave me the order to have the guns fire, even though you were in their way, well… I saw the monster in his eyes. I made a grave error, Emily. You are your own person, and you have made your choice. A much better man I own.”

  Emily was about to speak when another voice broke in. On the ground a few feet away from where Nasmith stood, Major Clairmont had hauled himself into a sitting position and was glaring at them from puffy eyes. His voice croaked as he spoke.

  “Traitor!” he shouted, glaring at Nasmith. “Traitor! Damn you, you weak-minded fool! All is lost, and you are the architect of our demise! May the devil take you!”

  “What would you have us do with them?” Murdo asked Emily. Emily looked down at the broken figure of her nemesis, and then at her father, pronouncing the only judgement she could.

  * * *

  They hanged Clairmont, and for all his cruel nature and evil character, he went to his death well. Emily watched with Murdo on one side and her father on the other, and when it was done, Captain Edward Nasmith was brought before James MacPherson and the other clan chiefs, who sat on a slam dais which had been hastily erected for the judgement. Neil McGraw and Iain Grant sat on either side of James, and all three looked sternly down upon the Englishman.

  “Edward Nasmith,” said James. “Yer daughter has pleaded wi’ me on yer behalf, and my son, who is now yer son-in-law, has seconded her word. Ye hae been our enemy and fought on the side o’ the army which has despoiled our lands an’ subjugated our people, but for a’ that, ye hae been only fighting under orders o’ the country o’ yer birth. We canna fault ye for daeing yer duty, and when the pinch came, ye fought yer ain tae save the wife o’ my son and heir, Emily MacPherson. Ye hae saved her frae certain death by yer actions, and for that alone I am minded tae let ye go free; the service ye hae rendered tae me an’ tae my clan by that one action is beyond price.”

  The other two men on the dais looked unsure and frowned at each other, but the authority of James could not be denied. The old man was the chief of Clan MacPherson and was on his own ground here. James ploughed on.

  “Also, ye are the faither o’ my son’s husband, and so, whate’er else we may disagree on, ye are bound tae me and tae my family by kin. It’s a grievous thing for a man tae kill one whae he is kin-bonded wi’, and whether we like it or not we are bonded so. Wi’ this in mind, I will see fit tae forgive ye, and tae free ye, if ye will submit tae certain conditions.”

  He leaned back in his chair and looked hard at Edward Nasmith.

  “So, whit will ye say?” Will ye renounce yer oaths tae the English king, and go forward frae this place and time as a common man, nae mair a captain in King George’s army? If ye will dae so, I will repeal a’ penalty which I could lay upon ye for coming intae my lands here in arms. An, if ye will dae this, I will tak’ ye as kinsman tae my folk and me, an’ ye may come along wi’ me an’ my people as one o’ us, now and forever. Whit say ye?”

  There was a murmured gasp of astonishment from around the gathered people. Murdo’s hand found Emily’s and gave it a squeeze.

  “Fear not, love,” he whispered. “Yer faither will see sense, I’m sure.”

  “I will renounce my oaths to the English king!” said Edward Nasmith decisively, and the murmur rose approvingly around him. “You have shown your mercy, James MacPherson I have done little more than to fight in the army of the King of the land in which I was born. Since I have come to Scotland, I have seen little but brutality and scorn committed by my countrymen against the noble people of this land. I joined the army to defend my King and country, but not to subjugate others. I had been a fool, bewitched by Major Clairmont’s words and his influential character, and yet he was a man of cruelty, without mercy or love. In you, James MacPherson, I see a man who I would be proud to call kinsman! I renounce my oaths to the English King, and I will come with you when you go, where you will, to give what help I may!”

  The crowd cheered, and Emily rushed forward and embraced her father. He hugged her, bent his knee to James, who touched his head and spoke quiet words to him. Then James drew him up and cried, “see here! Here is Edward Nasmith, and he is now one o’ our ain!”

  Edward seemed slightly shaken, and when Murdo put out a hand to steady him, Edward looked up at the big highlander and smiled.

  “Well, my friend,” he said a little shakily. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Dae ye see how they two hae made such good friends already?” Murdo nudged Emily as they rode side-by-side together amid the Highland company. Emily looked and saw her father walking in company with Ben Carmichael, the Englishman who had deserted to the Scottish side at the Battle of Glenallan, early on in the rebellion, and had never looked back.

&nb
sp; “For all his newfound loyalty,” she said quietly, “I do not doubt that he is glad to have another Englishman to talk to. He is dealing with a great deal of shame, I believe. He knows he has made a good choice, but for all that, he can barely look me in the eye most of the time.”

  Murdo laughed, and they rode on together.

  It took them two days to get back to the house at Rowan Glen. In the course of the journey, she told him the story of her captivity, of the sham marriage and of her escape. He shook his head and sighed with great sadness when she told him of Alice’s pain at Ewan’s betrayal, and her subsequent death in the explosion, which allowed Emily to escape.