Sarah Gabriel (28 page)

T
he sedan chair rocked, its seat fastened with pinions, so that as the chair carrier went up the hill, Kate stayed level on the leather seat. She gripped the seat edge tightly, and looked behind her. All of her “female” companions rode sedan chairs as well, while Alec would make his way separately.

Ahead, the castle walls loomed dark at the top of the hill, and all four chairmen brought the group easily through the first sentry gate, for Kate explained that she and her friends had come to visit prisoners within, with three of the ladies in danger of becoming widowed. They were waved on to the front gate, where they were passed through again.

As they entered the inner walls and climbed the
slope toward the complex of buildings, Kate glanced toward Rob.

“Up there, straight on,” he whispered, keeping his head low. “The dungeons are in that keep.”

She nodded and proceeded slowly. Then she heard a voice hailing them from behind, and she turned to see Alec, dressed in red coat and kilt and officer’s sash as before—but now there were many like him in this place, soldiers and officers, and he looked anonymous and strikingly handsome. He came toward their group, and her heart flipped to see him.

“Ladies, allow me to escort you. Are you here to see prisoners? Aye, then.” He was cool and polite, hardly looking at Kate. Within minutes he had passed them through one sentry post after another and led them down a few worn stone steps to the dungeon area, and finally into a narrow, dark corridor that smelled of oil smoke from lanterns, barely covering far worse odors.

Kate shuddered, remembering her confinement in Inverlochy Castle’s dungeons. A sense rose up in her then, all doubt vanishing, that what they were doing here was right—these men could not be left in this place.

“Sergeant, Corporal—these ladies have come to visit the Highland prisoners,” Alec said, as two sentries in the corridor stood and saluted. “I suspect they are soon to be widows,” he whispered loudly. “We may want to allow them some privacy.”

“There’s four ladies,” the sergeant observed, “and three Highland Donalds in there, so how many wives do these fellows have? Three can go in,” he said. “Not four.”

“One of them is sister to a prisoner.”

“Then she can go in separate-like,” the sergeant replied. “We cannot let them all in there at once, Captain.” He stood.

“Unless they are prepared to convince us otherwise,” the corporal said, holding out a gloved hand. “You know, sir, these Donalds are kept in these lower cells because they’ve no money to pay for better quarters. They could have fine rooms above, good food, beds with linens, even a servant and postal privileges and books and such, if they had coin to pay. But Highlanders are notorious poor. We had to put all three of those rascals together, and we have to sit down here watchin’ ’em.” He wiggled his fingers, and after a moment, cleared his throat and stepped back.

“I understand,” Alec said, and turned. “Ladies?”

Rob, dressed in a long green cloak and hood, and showing a ruffled blue hem under the cloak, came forward. He held a kerchief to his face and sniffled. He was followed by Connor, then Jack, all in swishing skirts and cloaks, two with handkerchiefs to their noses, Jack with a pretty fan. He sobbed as he went past, fluttering the painted silken fan, and Alec patted him on the shoulder.

“There, madam. Go in, please. The sergeant will unlock the door for you.” As the “ladies” left with the sergeant, Alec turned to Kate. “Miss…Cameron, you’re sister to one of those lads, are you not? Would you mind staying out here and keeping these gentlemen company until the other ladies have finished their
visit? Then you can have a few moments alone with your brother.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. She pushed back her cloak, so that the lanternlight caught the ruddy golden glow of her hair, which she had loosened and taken down during the ride in the sedan chair. The corporal seemed startled, then stared.

“Greetings, Miss Cameron,” he said, stammering.

She inclined her head regally.

“I’ll take my leave now,” Alec said, bowing. “So very nice to make your acquaintance, Miss.” He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing.

Kate smiled at the corporal, who was still staring, his skin beginning to blush. She knew her role—to distract the guards as much as she could while the Highlanders went back and forth in various stages. Jack, Rob, and Connor all wore extra cloaks and skirts under their outer cloaks that they planned to share with Ian, Andrew, and Donald.

The sergeant came back, and she turned to glance at him. He blinked at her, and smiled, and offered her a chair in cordial silence. She declined, and asked after their health, asked after their families, asked about themselves.

They were both eager to talk, young men who were lonely and bored on sentry watch in the dungeons. She showed rapt interest in everything they said, laughing prettily at their jokes.

All the while, they stared, and the corporal’s jaw kept slacking open. She knew both men were surren
dering to the allure of her fairy gift, with every word, each glance she gave them.

“Miss,” the corporal said, “you have a sort of glow all about you like candlelight, did you know it? A very pretty glow.” His companion readily agreed, nodding.

“Like a new lantern. We needed such,” he said.

She caught her breath at that, and thanked them. Fingering the crystal at her throat, she felt its power in a new way—a confidence she had never had before and a detachment as well.

Suddenly she felt as if she could control this ability as never before. A smile, a word, a touch of the crystal seemed not nearly as powerful, now, as something that came from within. It was different than will, or any sort of awareness. It had more to do, she realized then, with her own conviction that she was loved, her own sense of holding love within her like a vessel holds water, or a lantern holds light.

This had not happened before in her experience with the fairy charm, and she knew now, indeed, that the fairy-blessed among the MacCarrans were those who could carry this love within themselves and give it to others. The thought took her breath away, and she set a hand to her chest, feeling the beautiful power of it. The Fairy Gift was meant to be shared, she knew then, shared in the kindest and most beneficial ways.

Her breath quickened, and her smile deepened, and the men with her seemed completely entranced.

And behind her, first one and then another lady came out of the cell and went back inside. One and then another walked past her weeping, or sobbing; two ran
past and down the corridor beset by grief, and one came back sniffling, apparently intent on one last embrace, one last kiss. Back and forth they went, while Kate smiled at the guards, and they smiled at her, and no one counted the cloaked ladies shuffling and sniffling between the cell and the corridor.

“Oh,” Kate said, turning at one point. “They seem to have all gone. Beset by grief,” she whispered, “my poor friends. I’ll go say my farewell, if I may. Oh, no, do stay here,” she urged, when the corporal moved ahead. “It is something I must do myself, but I thank you for your courtesy.”

She walked down the short length of the passage to the cell, with its planked wooden door and inset, barred window. Stepping into the cell, she stood for a few moments, turning around to enjoy its emptiness.

They were all gone—and all she need do now was linger long enough to give them time to get out of the castle, six ladies, when four had gone inside. With Alec’s help, they would be escorted out of the castle compound and be away down Castlehill in sedan chairs before any of the guards realized what had happened.

When she thought enough time had passed, she left the cell, closing the door behind her. Then she walked past the guards, sniffling, giving them a tremulous smile.

She paused, and reached into the small purse she had tucked in a deep pocket. Extracting two gold Spanish doubloons, as arranged with her kinsmen earlier, she handed one each to the sentries.

“Oh, no, we could not accept—” the corporal began.

“Please,” she said. “You’ve been so kind. This is for your trouble. They’re quite valuable, I’m told.”

“I’d say,” the sergeant remarked. “But they don’t shine nearly as brightly as you, Miss. It’s like a magic about you.” He grinned, looking boyishly eager to please.

She smiled, and pressed each man’s hand in farewell. “I’m in love. That’s all the magic you see.” Smiling again, she turned. “You need not accompany me, gentlemen. My friends are waiting outside.” Then she glided away.

And around the corner, picked up her skirts and ran.

Outside, as Alec ushered each “lady” into a hired chair, the grateful as well as the grumbling ones, he kept glancing back to watch for Kate. While Jack MacDonald, and Kate’s kinsmen were done with ladies’ gear and did not want to keep it longer than necessary, Ian, Andrew, and Donald were more than willing to leave the esplanade in any disguise. Finally, seeing them all safe away, Alec turned and headed back to the castle entrance.

Where the devil was Kate? She should have been outside already, he thought, frowning. As he walked forward, he looked up to see her coming out of the arched tunnel entrance and across the lowered drawbridge. She picked up her skirts and ran toward him, her cloak hood falling back to show her hair, shining Celtic gold in the afternoon sun.

He hastened toward her, and she smiled up at him, but he kept back. “No embraces, love, as beautiful as
you are to me,” he said, “more lovely than even the queen of the fairies. But unless you can vanish into the mist, or fly, we’d best find you a sedan chair and get you gone from here.”

Kate nodded, for he knew she well understood the need for caution. He turned with her and walked sedately to escort her to the outer gate. When he glanced down at her, she suddenly gasped and set a hand upon his arm to stop him.

Looking in the direction of the gate, he saw Francis Grant coming toward him from Castlehill like a thundercloud, his brow lowered and dark, fists clenched.

“Fraser!” he yelled, his hand on the sword at his side. “Damn you to hell, Fraser, and the lady with you! What have you been up to in this place?”

“Nothing much, a little sport,” Alec murmured.

“Aye, I’d wager one or more Highlanders are gone. You and this one have been about some sort of work, I’m sure of it. And I’ll give you sport, sir, if that is what you want,” Grant snapped, and whipped his sword from its sheath.

Alec pushed Kate back and drew his own sword, advancing on Grant with such ease and sureness that the colonel stumbled back immediately at first. Then Grant recovered, and threw away his cocked hat and took his stance, a hanging guard.

Countering quickly, knocking back the blade as it came down, Alec began a fast series of lunges and parries. Grant proved to be a skilled opponent, and Alec had to watch every step, every move. He could not spare a glance for the guards who gathered
around, hands on swords, two with their fingers set on pistols.

Nor could he watch the lady who stood with them, beautiful and luminous in the midst of the soldiers. Most especially, he could not look her way.

Dance back, quarter guard, parry, and thrust—Alec spun out his moves, scarcely thinking about them. He circled, his balance affected slightly by his injured arm in its sling, so he tore away the confining cloth in one motion, pulling it over his head and flinging it away. Then he extended his left arm for necessary balance, and though pain protested all along his forearm, he hardly noticed it somehow.

Rounding so that his back was to the setting sun over the castle walls, he saw Grant blink furiously. Keeping the man facing in that direction required that Alec step forward and backward, rather than side to side, and he did his best to maintain that position.

Blocking blows, he retreated, lunging, he thrusted forward, keeping his back to the brilliance of the lowering sun. Grant tried again and again to shift away, the sun slanting strong gold over his face now, illuminating his eyes, so that Alec saw the deep fire in them and knew he would be killed for certain if the man got so much as an opening.

Hang guard, step forward, thrust—and this time Alec found flesh and whipped open a wound in Grant’s cheek. Slapping a hand to his face, Grant shifted, and Alec shifted back again, so that the setting sun was ever there behind him, like a luminous ally at his back.

Grant stepped backward, and Alec followed with a
volley of strikes. The other man stumbled suddenly and turned, whirling so fast that Alec had no choice but to dance to the side—and the movement brought both of them perilously close to the outer wall that flanked the esplanade, with the castle looming to one side and the city sloping away to the other, and not an arm’s reach away, a straight drop down a sheer cliff to sloping ground hundreds of feet below.

Beyond Grant’s shoulder, Alec saw Kate move with the soldiers who watched them, all of them helpless to stop the lethal sword fight in progress. He shifted and sidestepped, his shoe heels scraping the base of the wall, the wind brisking fresh and cold over the side, whipping his hair across his eyes as it sifted loose of the ribbon that held it back. The wall’s sloping base threw him off balance and off guard, and in its curving course along the top of the hill, it was scarcely waist high in this area. As he tried to put a little distance between him and the stone wall and the expanse of air and distance beyond it, Grant advanced again.

This time the tip of his blade caught Alec’s injured arm, ripping through bandages, slicing along the wound. Agony seared through him, and for a moment Alec saw the world go gray, but he kept to his feet, ignored the drip of blood along his sleeve, and whirled.

And she was there, like a sunbeam beside him, her back to the wall, her back to the setting sun. When she had stepped forward into the path of danger, Alec had no idea, but he could not look her way—could not, though he felt the lure of it.

“Step back,” he hissed over his shoulder. “Get away!”

But she did not. Nor did she need to—for Grant suddenly slowed, and gaped at her, and a look came over his face of such wonderment, such bewilderment, that he faltered for a moment.