One Man's Love (26 page)

She shook her head, looked in the direction Alec had gone. She needed to pose the question she’d come to Scotland to ask before military matters intruded, before he was commanded by this…general to do something else or go somewhere else.

It was vital that David’s future was assured.

Her maid sighed heavily behind her, the sound both a hint and an impetus to action.

She turned to the other woman. “Go with the lieutenant, Florie, and rest if you wish.” She smiled a dismissal, and looked at the general once more.

An entirely irritating man, she thought.

“Have I offended you again?” he asked, his smile having a tinge of wickedness about it.

She shook her head. It would be best if she didn’t respond to his words or speak to him at all.

“If you will excuse me, sir,” she said, beckoning to David.

She began to walk toward the ruined castle with David at her side, Ralph meowing with every step.

“Where are we going, Mama?” David asked.

“To find your brother,” she said, determined.

“I like him,” he said, smiling. “Ralph likes him, too.”

She glanced toward the cat’s basket. She doubted that the ill-tempered feline liked anyone other than David, but she didn’t say that to her son.

She had rehearsed the words countless times on the journey through Scotland, Patricia thought. Why, then, were they so fleeting now? Everything she’d thought to say was gone, flown from her mind as if they were bubbles on a gusty day. That odious general’s fault, no doubt.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was still watching her with that enigmatic smile on her face. Her anger was the reason for the sudden feeling of heat on her cheeks. That was all. It had nothing to do with his crude manner or his words.

He thought her beautiful. She halted, the rocky ground biting into her slippers. What did it matter to her if a stranger found her attractive? Or was so crass as to comment upon it? She looked at him again. Another man was addressing him and he nodded from time to time, evidently immersed in thought.

It was absurd for her to feel so disappointed.

Matthew Sedgewick dismounted, handed the reins over to one of the privates assigned to stable duties,
and looked around for Armstrong. He found him directing the placement of a wooden box filled with gunpowder next to one of the cannon portals.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Armstrong said, straightening, “but the colonel has me clearing out the ordnance rooms for his mother and brother.”

The presence of the colonel’s relatives was an irritation. But their being here would not delay the outcome of his investigation, nor render his accusations inappropriate. Armstrong had furnished enough information to cast doubt on Landers’s loyalty.

“I’ve brought General Wescott with me,” he said curtly. “Before we begin to question Colonel Landers, are there any changes you wish to make in your journal? Any omissions or additions?”

“Yes,” Armstrong said, smiling faintly. “I overheard a conversation between the countess and her son. Evidently, the colonel is familiar with this place. He used to spend his summers here.”

Sedgewick frowned, trying to make sense of Armstrong’s latest revelation.

“Have you considered, sir, that Colonel Landers might be a Scot?”

The idea was intriguing. A nail in Landers’s coffin. Even if Wescott did nothing, Cumberland would be furious.

“Where is he?”

“I believe, sir, that he’s at the Scottish castle. He has an affinity for that place.”

“Or his hostage,” Sedgewick said abruptly, turning and crossing the open space between the fort and the ruins of the castle.

He was going to enjoy telling Landers he was under investigation, he thought, entering the ruins of the castle from the side.

Two people were talking, their voices echoing in
the stone chamber. One speaker he recognized instantly. The other was female. The hostage?

“What about the villagers? Is there no way to get them to the ship?”

“None that can escape detection at the moment.”

A possibility occurred to Sedgewick, one that was almost exhilarating to contemplate. What if Colonel Landers’s sin was greater than simply ignoring the Raven’s presence in his territory? What if Landers himself was the traitor?

Realizing what he was hearing, Sedgewick smiled, and pulled out the pistol he’d tucked into his waistcoat.

This strange place was a labyrinth, Patricia thought, and every single brick of it interested David. He entered the archway, stared above him at the partially intact roof.

The sunlight cast delicate shadows on the walls. “Pretty,” he said, holding Ralph’s basket close.

“Yes, dear,” she said patiently, “but we must find Alec.”

They entered one room that showed some sign of habitation, but it was empty at the moment. Another larger space was open to the elements. It seemed an oddly sad place, as if it had once known joy and now only felt sorrow. Even David did not want to enter it.

She stepped over fallen stones and walked down a hallway that led nowhere, as a wall had collapsed upon it. Each path she took led to nothing. Finally, they retraced their steps to the archway and began to follow it through the ruins.

“A tender scene, Colonel,” Sedgewick said, slipping out of the shadows.

His uniform was coated with dust, his blond hair
in disarray, and the look on his face one of fatigue. But that wasn’t what held Alec’s attention. It was the gun in his hand. The pistol boasted a walnut stock and checkered grip, and was obviously well kept, from the shine of the brass on its six-inch barrel.

“It’s a formidable offense to pull a weapon on a superior officer, Sedgewick,” Alec said, very conscious of the fact that Leitis was standing beside him. He stepped in front of her.

“Not if the officer is guilty of treason. As I suspect of you. Sir,” Sedgewick added, bowing slightly in a mockery of respect.

“Even stronger words,” Alec said dryly.

“Do you deny that you’re the man known as Raven? Do you deny that you attempted to aid and abet the Scots?”

“Most emphatically,” Alec said. There were times when bluster and bravado were helpful attributes. When a battalion was outnumbered, when the odds were enormous, and at this particular moment. “How do you come to that fanciful conclusion, Sedgewick?” he asked cuttingly.

“Armstrong has kept me informed of your movements,” the other man said, the pistol steady and pointed at him.

“Then Armstrong is an idiot,” Alec said dryly.

“General Wescott doesn’t think so,” Sedgewick said. “Else he would not have accompanied me here.”

“And you felt it necessary to escort me to him at the point of a gun?”

“I wouldn’t care, Landers, if you tried to escape and I had to shoot you.”

Alec smiled mirthlessly. “Is that your ploy?” he asked, attempting to look unaffected by the other man’s threats. “I think it would be best if you returned to Fort William now, Major. I will join you
shortly and together we’ll hear General Wescott’s judgment as to your imaginative findings.”

“I think now would be a better time,” Sedgewick said. The gun barrel wavered in the air, pointing in the direction of the archway, then back at his chest.

“Are you threatening me, Sedgewick?” Alec asked in a clipped voice.

“I believe I am, sir. Would you like to try to escape?” he asked, smiling. “When you’re dead, sir, I’ll sample your whore and see if she’s worth keeping alive.”

“I hope,” Alec said, enraged, “that you have proof beyond any doubt, Sedgewick. Because when I’m exonerated, I’m going to make every effort to see that you spend the rest of your life in the gaol. I suggest that you begin to formulate your explanation to General Wescott. I know exactly what I’ll say to him.”

Alec stepped forward, hoping that Leitis would take advantage of the diversion he was about to create and slip from view.

“The gun is ready to fire, Colonel,” he said. “I’ve taken the precaution of being prepared for your refusal. If you’re dead, it won’t matter if you’re the Raven or not,” Sedgewick said, smiling. “The general will be satisfied. I will probably be commended on my courage, and another traitor will be dead.”

He raised the pistol and aimed it at Alec’s chest.

“Let her go,” Alec said, glancing at Leitis, “and I’ll come with you. Without a struggle.”

“But you see, I don’t want you to come with me,” Sedgewick said, still smiling. “The more I think about it, the more the idea of your death pleases me.”

He sighted the gun carefully.

“Mama? Is he going to hurt my brother?” David asked fearfully.

Both men turned at the sound of the voice, startled.
Patricia and David stood in the door of the archway staring at Sedgewick.

Alec took advantage of the moment and lunged for the major, grabbing his legs with both arms and pulling him off balance. The pistol fell with a metallic thud to the stone floor.

Sedgewick kicked at him, rolled, and grabbed the gun. The major rose to his knees, then stood, all the while pointing the barrel at him. It was only then that Alec realized the major was standing directly beneath the fallen arch.

Sedgewick glanced down at his feet, a look of horror on his face as the earth began to crumble beneath him. In a moment oddly slowed in time, Alec watched as Sedgewick flew backward, his arms and legs flailing as a look of stark terror crossed his face. There was nothing but air, no firm ground, no handhold as he continued to fall. The sound of his scream gradually faded into silence.

Alec stood and moved to the neighboring arch, looked down. There was no hope that Sedgewick would have survived the drop to the loch below. He felt arms extend around his waist as Leitis pulled him back from the edge.

He enfolded his arms around her, resting his cheek against her hair. She was trembling or he was, but it didn’t seem to matter at the moment.

“He fell, Mama,” David said.

“Yes, dearest,” Patricia said softly, extending her arms around her frightened son.

“I don’t like this place,” he said, burying his head against her shoulder.

Patricia met Alec’s gaze across the room. “I’m not sure I do, either, dearest.”

L
eitis stood clutching Ian, filled with a quiet kind of terror, and not because a man had died in front of her. She was trembling because she knew these moments were the ones on which her happiness rested.

“I won’t leave without you,” she said fiercely. “I won’t let you be brave or daring or noble. Not now.”

“I could convince them that it was Sedgewick’s jealousy of me that was the reason for his charges, that his suspicions were entirely unfounded,” he said, stroking his hands over her back.

“And his death? They’ll think you guilty of it.”

“I am still the colonel of the 11th Regiment,” he said, smiling wryly. “My word has some weight.” He pulled back and traced his thumb over her features. Nose, lips, chin were all subject to that soft touch.

“There’s another way,” she said, desperate to convince him. “You could come with me. Remember the path around the cliff? We could both get the villagers to the ship.”

“And who will occupy the general in the meantime?” he asked with a smile.

Patricia walked over to where they stood. “I admit to not knowing what you’re discussing,” she said. “But it’s evident that you need a distraction. Someone who would keep General Wescott occupied in some way.”

She glanced toward David, then back at both of them. “The boor seems to have taken an interest in me,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “Perhaps I can have wine with the general. Or dine with him.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Patricia,” he said. “It would be too dangerous for you.”

“Why, because you’re my stepson?” She drew herself up haughtily and glared at him. “I shall simply tell them that you’re an odious disappointment to me. That you were estranged from your father for the same reason and that my only purpose for visiting you was to inform you of your succession to the earldom.” The arrogant air she assumed was ruined by her quick smile.

“Earldom?” Leitis said helplessly. “You’re an earl now?”

“My father is dead,” he said softly.

Her hands pressed against his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said, wishing that she could spare him the pain of his grief. There were some journeys, however, that each person had to make alone.

He pulled off a ring, handed it to Patricia, then unfastened the badge he wore on his waistcoat. “This is inscribed with my name and was a present from Cumberland. Tell the solicitor I was killed in Scotland,” he
said. “He’ll believe it easily enough with this as proof.”

Patricia stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t take this,” she said, staring down at the two items on her palm. “I wanted to ask you to provide for David, but this is too much. You can’t give up your birthright, Alec,” she remonstrated. She glanced over at her son. “David cannot be earl,” she said softly.

“With you at his side, Patricia, I’ve no doubt that he can be an apt one.” He smiled. “You’ll find that society will forgive a great deal if a man has power.”

She looked bemused, turning the ring and the badge over and over in her hand.

“You can’t do this, Ian….” Leitis halted, threw up her hands in frustration. “Who will you be now?” she asked. “What shall I call you? Ian or Alec?”

“Ian, I think,” he said, considering it. “Ian MacRae.”

“Then, Ian MacRae,” she said firmly, “you cannot give up your future.”

“Would you care to be an English countess, Leitis?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, so quickly that he smiled.

“I didn’t think so,” he said. “I haven’t given up my future, my love. I’ve simply changed one title for another.”

She merely shook her head at him, confused.

“That of husband, Leitis. I prefer it to earl.”

That he would give up his legacy to be with her stunned her. She tipped back her head and stared at him, suddenly realizing what he’d said.

“Are you asking me to marry you, Ian? You might be a bit more forthright.”

He began to laugh, bending down to kiss her smartly right in front of his stepmother. She pushed at him, but he released her when he was done, and not a moment before.

She pulled away finally, dazed.

“Will you marry me, Leitis?” he asked, smiling. “Is that forthright enough?”

She nodded, smiling.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, turned to Patricia. “Two hours should be enough of a delay,” he said.

“I shall play the flirty female,” the older woman said. “A role that should be interesting to assume.”

He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said simply.

She pressed her palm against his face. “Be well,” she said tenderly. “Be happy. Something tells me you will be,” she added, her glance including Leitis. “She’s the match for your stubbornness.”

He looked startled. “My stubbornness?”

“He always wanted his own way as a young man, my dear,” Patricia said in an aside to Leitis. “His charm was the only reason he was not unbearable.”

“I am not stubborn,” he countered.

Patricia glanced at Leitis once again, as if to say,
See, did I not tell you?

Ian only shook his head and turned to his brother. “I have to leave now, David,” he said.

“Will I see you soon?” his brother asked.

“Perhaps,” he said, a vague answer. David, however, looked content enough with it.

Leitis led him through the priory, to the small shelf of land on the side of Gilmuir. Here a collection of gorse bushes grew in a scraggly line.

At the fourth bush, she nodded, then turned and smiled at him. “This is it,” she said, sitting beside the bush, her legs dangling over the edge.

A moment later, he stared in horror as she disappeared from sight. He threw himself flat on the ground, his heart in his throat, his arms grabbing for
her, only to have her pop her head up a moment later, smiling at him.

“At the risk of offending you, Leitis,” Ian said, his heart still pounding wildly, “were you part goat as a child?”

“It’s not so terrible once you’re used to it,” she said in an attempt to reassure him. “Although,” she admitted, “I wouldn’t attempt it at night or in a storm.”

His glance at her was accompanied by a faint smile. He had no doubt that if the provocation were enough, she’d dare that, too.

He dropped down beside her on the path, uttering a curse as he stared at the sheer drop below. “You weren’t a goat,” he said, frowning, “but an eagle.”

War was tedium mixed with horror. Hours were spent waiting for a signal to advance, but those moments just before a battle began were filled with a stomach-clenching fear. He was disconcerted to experience that same feeling now.

Slowly, Leitis began to follow the path around the cliffs. He stayed close behind her, one hand, like hers, flattened on the side of the cliff for balance.

The face of the rock was striated, bands of brown and black interspersed occasionally with a layer of pure white glittering stone. The path itself was a shelf of beige granite littered with small pebbles. He made the mistake of watching one of them fall to the loch below, his stomach squeezing even tighter. It was not the opportune moment to recall Sedgewick’s descent.

“I can’t believe you used this path,” he said incredulously.

“Did you never wonder how I escaped all of you so easily?” she asked, amused.

“I thought it was because you could outrun us,” he confessed.

“I could,” she said smugly.

“I’m not sure all of the villagers are going to be able to navigate it, Leitis,” he said, concerned. “Does it get much narrower?”

“No,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder at him. He wished, fervently, that she would pay more attention to the path. “It is bound to be frightening to some of them,” she admitted. “But we are Scots and we can do anything.”

He smiled, amused.

Halfway around the island the track abruptly rose higher for about five feet. Unless they bent over, they could be seen. Once the path dipped slightly again, Leitis stopped and motioned to Ian. Together, they peered over the edge of the cliff.

There was a sense of cacophony about Fort William now. The order and regimentation that had once marked the fortress wasn’t in evidence. Men and horses milled about, camp had been made, and fires lit in preparation for night.

Ian glanced up at the sky, wondered if they had enough time to get the villagers back to the priory and to the ship before nightfall.

“Will your stepmother be all right?” Leitis whispered.

“Against Wescott?” he said, smiling. “I have no doubt.”

“I never had a chance to visit with her,” she said regretfully.

“The better to learn my secrets? Then I should be grateful the meeting never transpired,” he said dryly.

“I know all your secrets,” she said, smiling. “Don’t I?”

“I don’t feel at all comfortable discussing my frailties when I’m perched on a ledge like a bird.”

“You’re not comfortable with heights,” she said, looking as if the discovery amazed her.

He braced his hand against the rock, the glittering stone abrasive against his palm. “Up until this moment,” he said, “I’ve had few opportunities to test my affinity for cliff-walking.”

She began to smile, obviously amused. He bent down and kissed her, captivated by the moment and the woman.

“Have you no other secrets?” she asked a moment later.

He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t like the taste of mutton,” he said, “although you’ll need sheep for your wool. And I have no ability to sing.”

She smiled at him before turning and following the path. It didn’t get easier, he noted, but as long as he concentrated on the cliff face and not the sheer drop to his right, it was bearable enough.

They reached the land bridge, finally, the path rising steeply upward.

“We have to cross the glen,” she said, gesturing to a narrow neck of land.

He glanced from it back to the fort, measuring the distance. The soldiers didn’t appear particularly vigilant, but it was never good to underestimate an adversary. With a start of surprise, he realized that’s exactly what the English were now.

Slowly, he slipped off his coat, folded it inside out, and tossed it over the side of the cliff.

“It would be seen too easily,” he said at her questioning glance.

She stretched out her hand. “It’s a race,” she said, smiling. “I’ve always been better at running than you,” she boasted.

“I caught you in the courtyard,” he reminded her as he took her hand.

She grabbed her skirt in her fist and together they
ran across the strip of grass, Leitis muting her laughter with effort.

“I won,” she announced on the other side, a bit of sophistry he allowed her. Her laughing face was flushed, her hair lit by a fading sun until it was tinted red-gold. In her lovely eyes was joy, so pure and unalloyed that his heart seemed to swell in gratitude for it.

“Don’t do this now, Ian,” she said, glancing up at him, her lovely eyes clear and deep. “Not at this moment.”

“Do what?” he asked, confused.

“Look at me in that way. It makes me want to kiss you.”

She sighed as he caught her up in his arms and kissed her anyway.

“We should get to the village,” he said moments later.

She nodded, clutching at his waistcoat with possessive fingers.

“It doesn’t seem quite right,” she said, gazing up at him. “We are fleeing for our lives, responsible for getting almost fifty people to safety, and any moment we might be pursued by hundreds of English troops. I shouldn’t be so happy, should I?”

“Happiness is fleeting enough. Hold it tight when it comes and don’t let it go.” To mark that thought, he pulled her to him again, spiraling down into their kiss with a jubilant delight.

Slowly they parted, each looking at the other. A moment of discovery and acknowledgment, he thought, that what was between them was greater than nationality or country.

They turned, finally, walking toward the village hand in hand. But when she would have veered onto the well-worn path through the glen, he pulled her into the cover of the forest.

“It’s shorter this way,” she protested.

“But we don’t know whether or not Wescott has posted troops there,” he said. She looked startled by the possibility.

But when they emerged from the forest a few minutes later, there was no sign of the general’s troops.

The village was unearthly quiet, as if the inhabitants had already left. There was no smoke from the chimneys, no sign of life.

Leitis knocked on the first door and an old man answered. “It’s time,” she said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t give you any warning,” she added.

“We’re ready,” he said.

Ian strode to a cottage banded with flowers. An older woman answered, her gnarled hands clutching the doorframe tightly. “It’s time to leave,” he said gently.

Her only response was a tight-lipped nod.

One by one the cottage doors opened and people emerged, gathering in the middle of the village.

“We have to leave Gilmuir quickly,” he said, addressing them. He didn’t wish to alarm them, but neither did he want them kept in ignorance. It was better if they understood the need for haste. “The English might well be searching for us soon.” Their faces each wore varying degrees of fear.

“You’ll not be able to take more than you can carry, and even that should be limited. We’ll be taking the path around the cliffs.”

“I know of no path around the cliffs,” a voice said. Ian turned to see Hamish standing a short distance away, his feet braced apart. One hand gripped his pipes, while the other was bunched in a fist and braced on his hip. For all the world, Ian thought, like a banty rooster defending his barnyard.

They stared at each other, Ian knowing the exact moment when Hamish recognized him.

“So, it’s the Butcher himself,” Hamish said, “come to lead those foolish enough to go. Where does an English colonel hope to take the MacRaes? To hell? Or just to prison?”

Ian heard the collective gasp of the people surrounding him.

Leitis came to his side, placed her hand on his arm in wordless support. “The reason the English will be searching,” she told the clan, “is because he’s Ian MacRae.”

Hamish looked startled, then his eyes narrowed as he stared at them both. “He’s the Butcher of Inverness.”