The Bodyguard (21 page)

“Shall we ride again next week?” he asked.

“I would like that,” she replied.

Kitt kneed her horse to join Carlisle and never looked back.

* * *

The day the soldiers left for maneuvers, Kitt sent word to her clansmen to come to her cottage after the moon rose that night. Alex felt the tension in the room as each man reviewed his assigned task. Not everyone would go on the raid. Some would stay behind to provide alibis for the others in case there was any question of their involvement later.

“Guard her well,” Duncan said as he left the cottage. “She has her father’s courage, but a woman’s foolish heart.”

“Well I know it,” Alex replied.

Kitt said nothing in front of Duncan, but she had no intention of standing by while the rescue went on without her. Nevertheless, she pretended to be content with her assigned role and even brought along a small pouch of medicinal herbs in case any of her clansmen got wounded.

“I dinna intend to be left behind, Alex,” Kitt said, breathless because she was trying to keep up with his long strides.

“I’ll slow down a bit, if you insist.”

“ ’Tis not what I mean, and you know it,” she retorted.

“You’ll be safer out of range of the soldiers’ muskets.”

“The soldiers are gone on maneuvers.”

“They’ll have left a few behind to guard the jail. ’Tis safer for you to wait in the trees and let Ian and the others do what must be done.”

Kitt huddled in the copse of trees near the jail with
Alex and seethed as she was forced to watch, rather than lead her clansmen on the raid.

She saw Fletcher and Tavis take down one of the guards in front of the jail with a knock on the head, while Evan and Angus captured, bound, and gagged the other. Then the four of them and Ian headed inside to find and free Patrick Simpson.

She and Alex waited. And waited.

“ ’Tis too long since they all went inside,” Alex said when perhaps five minutes had passed. “Something’s wrong. Wait here while I—”

“I’m no safer here alone than I would be with you,” Kitt protested.

“Stay here!” Alex snapped.

Before Kitt could protest again, he was gone. She saw him hesitate, calling out softly to Fletcher and Evan before he disappeared inside the jail.

The instant Alex was out of sight, she followed after him. She was as capable as any man of doing her part, and she intended to prove it once and for all.

Kitt hadn’t taken two steps before she heard someone coming through the undergrowth. She froze with her back to a tree until two men—soldiers!—passed by her. They were swaying drunkenly, hanging on to each other, and had apparently been in the bushes relieving themselves. If they got past her, they would likely see the men as they exited the door of the jail and raise an alarm. She realized she had no choice except to try and stop them.

Her heart was pounding with fear and excitement
as she stepped out of her hiding place. “What are two fine fellows like you doing out so late?” she said.

“What’s this? What is it you want?” one of the soldiers asked in a drunken voice.

“Only a little company,” Kitt said in a sultry voice. She planned to lead the two of them farther into the copse where the door to the jail would not be visible. The soldiers looked so drunk she was certain she could outrun them. “Why not come over here and—”

They both lunged for her at the same time. One grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her while the other clamped a hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream.

“Well, well,” one said to the other. “Shall we keep this treat for ourselves, or share it with the others?”

“I say we should help ourselves first. They can have whatever’s left when we’re done.”

Kitt’s eyes went wide with terror.
Alex, where are you? I need you. Come find me, please!

Alex had done everything in his power during the planning for the raid to ensure no one would be hurt—either clansmen or soldiers. But as he stepped inside the jail he saw everything had gone wrong. Blood pooled under the body of a soldier who lay next to Fletcher. The Scotsman still had a dirk stuck in his side.

“Fletcher?”

“I’m still here,” the big Scotsman whispered. “But that soldier’s in a bad way.”

Alex laid his fingertips on the wounded soldier’s throat and found a weak pulse. He wadded up the man’s shirt beneath him and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. With luck the man would live.

Then he knelt beside the wounded Scotsman and whispered, “Can you stand?”

Fletcher grabbed at the hand Alex offered him. “More soldiers than we thought stayed behind.”

“How many more?”

“One in back, two more expected soon,” Fletcher said.

“Wait here. I’ll be back for you. Dinna sit down. When we come out, we’ll be moving fast.” Alex edged quietly, carefully, farther into the jail, searching for Ian and the others. He heard the English soldier before he saw the four MacKinnon clansmen with their hands held high.

“It won’t be long now until my friends return, and then we’ll make sure you have a cell of your own,” the soldier said.

Alex surveyed the scene, deciding how best to hit the soldier so that his musket would not discharge. He didn’t have much time. The soldier was obviously expecting help to arrive soon.

He made eye contact with Ian to let him know what he planned, then leapt at the soldier. He caught him between the shoulder blades and forced him down. The man’s head hit the wall with enough force to knock him out. His musket clattered to the floor and Ian quickly retrieved it.

Ian started to bludgeon the soldier with the wooden stock, but Alex grabbed his wrist. “There’s been enough harm done this night. Where’s Patrick Simpson.”

“Patrick!” Ian called. “Where are you, man?”

“Here!” Patrick shouted from the last of the cells along the wall.

Alex took the keys from the waistband of the fallen
soldier and threw them to Tavis. “Hurry! There are more soldiers somewhere nearby.”

It took a matter of moments for Ian to free Patrick Simpson. The crofter had apparently caught his foot in a mantrap on the duke’s land and broken it. His ankle was still swollen to twice its normal size, and he could barely stand.

“Let’s go,” Alex said, slipping an arm around Patrick’s waist and pulling the crofter’s arm over his shoulder.

“We should free the others,” Ian said.

“ ’Tis not what we came to do,” Alex said, standing in Ian’s way as he reached out a hand for the key. “The MacKinnon waits. Patrick Simpson is free. We should leave before someone else gets hurt.”

“Alex is right, Ian,” Tavis said. “We should go. We must take Fletcher home to his wife.”

Ian grimaced but nodded his head abruptly in agreement. “Ach. So we’ll go.”

Tavis helped Angus to haul Fletcher up over his shoulder and then came to stand on the other side of Alex to help support Patrick Simpson’s weight.

Ian went first with the musket to look for the English soldiers. “ ’Tis clear,” he said. “But I dinna know for how long.”

Alex’s heart was pounding from more than the exertion of carrying Patrick Simpson. One soldier with a bad headache, Fletcher wounded, and another soldier wounded, perhaps seriously. If the soldier died, his comrades would be relentless in their pursuit of those
responsible. The sooner Patrick Simpson and his family left Scotland, the better.

By the time they reached the copse of trees where Alex had left Kitt, he was more than a little anxious. If she had been there, he might have taken out his frustration over the disastrous raid on her. But she was not.

“Where is The MacKinnon?” Ian demanded.

“She was here when I left,” Alex retorted. He looked over his shoulder toward the jail, wondering if Kitt had snuck in behind them and was in there now. “I’ll go find her. Take Patrick and Fletcher and get out of here.”

“You may need help,” Ian said.

“I can handle it.” Alex was headed back toward the jail before Ian could argue further.

They had taken the most direct route, over open land, when they left the jail, but Alex decided to go back through the trees, where he could more easily hide if more soldiers unexpectedly appeared.

He heard Kitt before he saw her. It was plain she was in trouble. He broke into a run, heading toward the sound of her cries.

Kitt kicked one man in the shin and cried out in pain as he slapped her hard across the face. A hand clutched her breast possessively. One soldier pressed his mouth against her cheek, while the other tore at her skirt from behind. A scream of terror was caught in her throat.

The man behind her suddenly went flying. The other lifted his head to find out what had happened but
barely had time to yelp before Alex’s fist smashed into his mouth. He went down without a sound.

Alex grabbed her hand and started running. “Let’s get out of here!”

Kitt took two steps and stumbled, falling forward onto her knees. Alex scooped her up into his arms, and she grasped him around the neck as he took off running again.

“Is Patrick safe?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, but Fletcher’s been stabbed and one of the soldiers as well.”

Kitt drew in a sharp breath. “Will Fletcher—”

“He’ll live. This whole business was folly from the start.”

“ ’Twas no such—”

“Shh,” he warned. “We’re being followed.”

Kitt searched over Alex’s shoulder for some sign of pursuit but saw nothing in the moonlit darkness. She listened but all she heard was the sound of Alex’s harsh breathing and her own and the crunch of bracken beneath his feet.

Kitt saw a flash of white in the moonlight—the lapel of a soldier’s uniform. At the same time, a drunken voice called out, “You, there! Halt, or I’ll shoot!”

“This way, Harry,” a second drunken voice shouted. “We can cut ’em off.”

“They’re catching up to us!” Kitt braced herself when she heard a musket being fired, but it was Alex who grunted with pain. “Are you hurt?” she cried.

“ ’Tis nothing.” He readjusted her weight in his arms and began running again but with a decided limp.

“You’re wounded! Put me down,” Kitt insisted.

“I think I’ll keep you where I know you’re safe.”

And where any musket balls would hit his body instead of hers, she realized. “Alex, set me down. I can run.”

“Look there. Help is on the way,” he said.

Sure enough, Kitt saw Ian leading Tavis and Evan back toward them. She breathed a sigh of relief. It would all be over soon. It was unfortunate Fletcher had been wounded. She hoped the soldier did not die, but even if he did, she would not regret the rescue she had ordered. And thanks to Alex, she had suffered no more than a dent to her pride.

The second shot came as Alex stopped to set her down. She stared up into his astonished face a moment before he crumpled to the ground. “Alex!”

She knelt beside him and felt, rather than saw, the blood streaming from the wound in his back. “No! Oh, no. Ian, help!”

Ian shoved her out of the way, hauled Alex over his shoulder, and said, “You two help Lady Katherine. I’ll take care of him.”

Tavis and Evan each grabbed one of her arms and hurried her toward safety, followed more slowly by Ian. When Kitt heard the third shot fired, she struggled to turn around.

“We canna go back, Lady Katherine,” Evan said.
“You must get away from here before the rest of the soldiers wake and begin their search.”

“Is everyone else safe?”

“They’ve all gone home,” Tavis replied. “Fletcher is—”

“I know. I’ll send Moira to make certain he’s well doctored. Who’s escorting Patrick and his family to the coast?”

“I’ll do that,” Ian said from behind them. “And put this one on the ship as well.”

“What?” Kitt stopped so abruptly her arms were nearly jerked from their sockets by the two men. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. I want Alex taken to my cottage.”

“He’s sore wounded,” Ian said. “Better he should die at sea and his body be slipped overboard than we should have to find a place to bury him.”

Kitt felt a spurt of panic. “He isna going to die.”

“His shirt and trousers are soaked with blood,” Ian said. “Likely he willna survive.”

“Take him to my cottage,” Kitt said. “Alex saved my life. I’ll not let him die alone at sea.”

“The soldiers are bound to come searching—”

“Do as I say!” she snapped. It was an order from The MacKinnon, and though Ian grumbled, he did not disobey.

Kitt thanked Tavis and Evan at her door and sent them home to their families.

“What’s amiss?” Moira cried in alarm when she saw Kitt with Ian and his burden.

“Alex is hurt. I can care for him, if you’ll go to Fletcher. He’s been cut and will need stitching.”

Moira looked from Kitt to Ian and back, and Kitt saw the question in her eyes.
Will you be safe alone with Ian?
Kitt nodded. She did not think Ian would bother her tonight—especially since the only person who had stood between him and his goal had been removed when Alex was shot.

Once Moira was on her way, Kitt lit a lantern and led Ian to her bedroom. She removed the quilt from her bed, leaving only the sheets.