One Man's Love (28 page)

W
hen the last of the villagers entered the staircase, Ian closed the entrance to the stairs and walked quickly to the laird’s chamber.

He went to the loom and slipped the pattern from it. Folding it under his waistcoat, he left again, entering the archway that led to the clan hall.

A sneeze alerted him.

“I’ve looked all over the fort, sir,” a nasally voice said, “but he isn’t there, either.”

“He’s got to be here somewhere,” Harrison said. “We need to find that staircase of his.”

Ian waited a moment in order to ascertain whether any other men were with them. When it was obvious they were alone, he stepped out of the shadows to face his adjutant and aide.

“I was trying to find a way to get word to both of you,” he said, the feeling of relief he experienced staggering. “It’s not safe you for you to be here, especially since I will soon be labeled a deserter in addition to being a mere traitor.”

“You don’t think we’d leave you, sir?” Harrison asked.

“You’ve both been loyal to me. More than any man could expect. But now you must protect yourselves.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but where are you going?” Donald asked nasally.

“Anywhere but Scotland or England,” he said. “The destination has not been chosen.”

“Don’t you want us to come with you, sir?”

“I’d be pleased to have you come with me, both of you. But it’s not a decision you can make without consideration. The army doesn’t treat deserters lightly.”

“They can’t hang us if they can’t catch us, sir,” Donald said, grinning.

Harrison looked up at the sky, the ground, then pulled himself up into a rigid stance. “Sir, I feel it necessary to confess something to you.”

“Other than turning me over to Cumberland,” Ian said dryly, “what else would account for that look on your face, Harrison?”

“She’s aboard ship, sir. Alison, that is.”

Ian glanced at his adjutant. “I take it Miss Fulton challenged her father’s dictate?” he asked, smiling.

Harrison glanced at him, grinning. The expression, while rendering his face plainer, was almost contagious. “She said that she wouldn’t let me leave without her, sir. We were married in Inverness, sir.”

“I take it you were going to resign your commission? Wouldn’t that be wiser than being a deserter?”

“At the moment, I’d much rather leave than take my chances with Sedgewick,” Harrison said.

“He would pose no problem to you,” Ian said dryly, and explained what had happened.

“Still, sir,” Harrison said, “it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to remain in Scotland once her father learns of our marriage.”

“I’ve never been away from England except for Flanders and Scotland, sir,” Donald interjected, “but I’d like to see a part of the world that’s a bit more pleasant than this. One where there’s no war.”

Ian’s glance encompassed both of them. “Then, if you’re certain, you’re welcome to come. But as of this moment I’m no longer your colonel, and you should not address me as such,” Ian said. He’d explain the change of names later.

He walked to the priory, both men following him, and pulled up the stone. Donald descended to the steps, Harrison close on his heels.

Ian once again sat on the edge, surveying the priory one last time. Shadows draped from the ancient walls like silk panels. In the distance of his memory he could almost hear a ceremony here, an imploration to God before battle. Perhaps he should make a similar plea, but he could not help but think that the outcome of this adventure had already been decided. Good fortune attended them, he was certain of it.

In an odd twist of imagination, he envisioned his grandfather standing against the west wall, nodding in approval. His parents were there, too, his father’s arm around his mother, both of them smiling at him. James and Fergus stood alongside, grown men now, attired in their kilts and daring him with their grins.

He nodded in farewell and slipped into the staircase.

Pulling the two stones over him, Ian couldn’t help but wonder if this place would ever be discovered again.

Hamish returned to the shore, his passengers having climbed the
Stalwart
’s rope ladder. He stepped from the boat and approached her, his boots crunching over the rocky shoreline.

“And when will you leave, Leitis?” he asked, frowning.

“When Ian arrives,” she said firmly.

“Stubborn to the end, my love,” Ian said from behind her.

She spun around and he was there, whole and safe, his smile gently teasing. She nearly leapt into his arms, she was so glad to see him. Ignoring the presence of the others, she pulled his head down for a kiss.

“You took long enough,” she said when the kiss ended. Her complaint was ended on a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her. She was truly not given to tears, but she felt like weeping now. She hated the idea of leaving Gilmuir, but at the same time she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Sadness and joy were odd companions.

“I had to arrange for more baggage,” he said in a low and intimate voice.

She pulled back, looked up at him curiously. His smile was still anchored in place. Peering behind him, she saw both Harrison and Donald standing there. Both of them were smiling.

“You’re coming with us?” she asked, surprised.

Harrison nodded. Donald sneezed.

He grinned at her, looked at Ian, and sneezed again.

She frowned, suddenly realizing how he’d become
sick. “Your cold has gotten worse,” she scolded. “You should have known something like this would happen if you go driving a wagon in the midst of a storm.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Ian. His grin was confirmation enough.

Donald looked away, sneezed again.

“What about you?” she asked Harrison. “Were you one of us?”

“I wasn’t part of that, miss,” he said, smiling. “I was in Inverness.”

“Hiring a ship?”

He glanced at Ian and then nodded.

“You should be tending that cold,” she said, turning back to Donald. She felt his forehead. “You’re as foolish as my brother Fergus,” she said, slightly alarmed at the heat of his brow.

“So, you’ll be crooning to the English now, Leitis,” Hamish snapped.

She heard Ian sigh, then watched in amazement as he strode to where Hamish stood. He gripped her uncle by both arms, lifted him effortlessly until his feet dangled a few inches above the shore and their eyes were at a level.

“You’ll not speak to Leitis in that tone, Hamish,” Ian said firmly. “Not now, not aboard ship, not when we land, not ever.”

Hamish nodded, his frown suddenly replaced by a grin.

“You sound just like your grandfather, Ian,” he said, pleased. “It’s laird you’ll be, then. The clan needs a leader.”

Ian simply stared at him, before lowering Hamish to the ground. He spun around, walking toward her again.

“Tell me I was right to let him come along,” Ian said, reaching her. “Tell me I wasn’t a fool.”

“You were right,” she said, amused. “But Hamish is, too.” She squinted at him as if measuring him. “You would make a fine laird.”

A pronouncement that had him shaking his head.

Lieutenant Armstrong knocked on the door with some trepidation. The general had taken over the colonel’s quarters and for the past hour a procession of aides had entered and left, bearing bottles of wine and crates of crystal. The general evidently had a taste for the finer things in life.

Wescott opened the door himself. In his hand was a glass of wine, the mate to the one held by the Countess of Sherbourne. Beside her sat her son, and on the end of the table lay a cat curled in a ball in front of an empty basket. It was a thoroughly respectable scene, but it had the tinge of assignation, what with the flush on the countess’s face and General Wescott’s pleased countenance.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” the general asked, his affability quickly changing to irritation. “I thought I left orders that I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but Major Sedgewick is nowhere to be found.”

“I’m sure Sedgewick is capable enough not to get lost, Lieutenant,” Wescott said dryly.

“But he was last seen heading toward the castle, sir, and he has not returned.”

“I saw him not too long ago,” the countess said unexpectedly. She smiled sweetly at him. “The dear man mentioned that he had duties to perform. But, of course, I did not inquire further.”

Armstrong stared at her, their gaze locking. She set
her glass on the table, then smiled at the general.

“Shall I leave, Nigel?” she asked softly.

Wescott glanced at her, then turned and glared at Armstrong. “No, Patricia, I think not. If Sedgewick does not return by morning, Lieutenant, then I will concern myself. Until then, don’t bother me.”

Armstrong had the curious feeling that the Countess of Sherbourne had just outmaneuvered him. He nodded and stepped back quickly as General Wescott closed the door in his face.

The
Stalwart
looked low in the water, a brooding hen with touches of brown and tan about her. The journey to her side was made slower than Ian wished. He waited impatiently as Harrison and then Donald scaled the rope ladder.

Finally it was Leitis’s turn.

“I’ll not climb that thing with you staring up my skirt,” she said, annoyed.

“Why do you think I let the other two go first?” he asked. “As to what’s under your skirt…” he began, only to be silenced by her look.

“I’ll not look,” he promised, and when she frowned at him, he smiled. “Very well, only a little.” When she still hesitated, he held her aloft so that she had no choice but to grab the ladder for support.

“You can be as arrogant as Hamish, you know,” she said, glancing behind her.

He only smiled in response.

It was not an easy ascent, agility with a rope ladder something that needed to be practiced. But a few moments later Leitis was aboard the
Stalwart.
He followed, Captain Braddock greeting him the moment his boots touched the deck.

“I’m very pleased to see you,” the captain said
with obvious relief. “If we hurry, we can make it around the rocks before full night.” He stared out at the cove warily. “I must confess that I’m eager to be gone from this place.”

Ian turned back to the rail, looked over the side.

Only one more boatload remained, and that carried no passengers, only the villagers’ belongings.

“We should be gone in a matter of moments,” he reassured the captain.

After the boat had been unloaded and all the packs and cases tied to ropes and hauled aboard, Ian moved to the bow. The same Italian sailor he’d met earlier stood beside him, once again marking the depth. They were entrusting their lives to this captain and his caution was a good sign.

After they passed slowly around the necklace of rocks, the captain gave the order for full sail. As they left the cove, Ian glanced behind him, grateful to discover that the villagers of Gilmuir, Leitis included, were huddled in a tight group. They would not see what he had just noticed, Sedgewick’s broken body lying on the far side of the tallest rock.

Once past the barrier, the danger lessened. Even if they were seen by the troops at Fort William, there was no likelihood that they could be overtaken. In less than an hour they would be at Coneagh Firth and quickly out to sea.

He stepped away from the bow, only to be approached by the captain.

“Sir, if you could accompany me for a moment, I think I have a solution to your destination.”

He glanced in Leitis’s direction. The group was still talking, and from the looks of it, it was an impassioned gathering. But then, anything involving Hamish was destined to be fiery.

Curious, Ian followed the captain to his quarters in
the forecastle, and watched as the man pulled a large rolled map from its case. He spread it open on a small square table, placing a prism on either side of the map to prevent it from curling.

“Here, sir,” Captain Braddock said, pointing to an area on the coast of the colonies. “It’s a place called Maryland. I’ve taken passengers there before.”

But a small spot far to the north captured Ian’s attention, instead. He traced his fingers across the shape of it. The coastline, jagged with inlets and firths, reminded him, oddly enough, of Scotland.

“No,” Ian said, beginning to smile. There it was, written right on the map. A sign, an omen, if he believed in such things. “There,” he said, pointing to the place. “That will be our home.”

“Are you certain?” Captain Braddock asked, frowning.

“I am,” he said.

A moment later he left the captain’s quarters. Hamish stood in the hatchway, both hands fixed on the bulkhead on either side of him.

“You’ve been elected laird,” Hamish said bluntly, a grin deepening the lines on his face.

“What?” Ian asked, dumbfounded.

“You’re laird now, Ian,” Hamish said, grinning and following him to the forecastle.

Leitis stepped out of the crowd and came to his side. They linked their fingers, content at the moment for only that. And the space between them was acceptable, too, as long as he could touch her in some manner, look in her eyes and see both the past and the future.

“He can’t be serious,” Ian said, glancing warily at Hamish.

“I’m afraid he is,” she said, reaching out her hands to him. “The people of Gilmuir think it fitting that the grandson of Niall MacRae should lead them.”

He wished he knew what to say at this moment. But words were puny things, incapable of holding thoughts of such importance.

“I don’t know anything about being a laird,” he said, the confession an awkward one.

“Yes, you do,” she gently chided. “Everything you’ve done, every lesson in command has led to this moment.”

“And if I fail them?” he asked, looking at the milling people.

“Did you fail your troops? Or the men you rescued from Inverness? Or me?” she asked, smiling.

“Did you vote for me, Leitis?”

“I did,” she said, smiling. “It was nearly unanimous.”

“Let me guess,” he said sardonically. “Hamish disagreed.”

She shook her head. “He was the one who suggested it,” she said. “Peter was the lone dissenting vote. He said you were too bossy.”