The Rebel (2 page)

Elizabeth set both hands on the edge of the mattress, and sighed heavily. “It belonged to my brother.”

“Your brother…” he replied with some scepticism.

“Yes.”

“Where is he now?”

She shot him an angry look. “Where do you
think
?”

The Highlander regarded her intently, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and low. “I’m very sorry, lass.”

She scoffed. “Well! There it is at last - exactly what I was looking for. An apology from a Scotsman.”

“I did not know your brother, so I cannot apologize for anything. I was merely offering my condolences. And I don’t think an apology was what you were looking for when you tried to stick me with your bayonet.”

She looked down at his lips and could not escape a heavy sense of defeat. “No, I suppose not.”

“Vengeance comes with a price, you know.”

Elizabeth’s heart began to ache. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt if she had actually killed a man – Scottish or otherwise. “No, I
don’t
know,” she replied. “Until these past few months, I didn’t know anything about war and violence and killing, but now I’ve seen more of those things than I ever wished to see.”

He took his time before responding. “When did your brother die?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Did you witness it?”

Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Yes. I was a nurse, doing what I could for this war.

Is this some sort of interrogation?”

“Aye.”

She recognized the steady purpose in his eyes and felt all the tiny hairs on her arms and legs stand on end. “What do you want from me?”

“I need to know your connections, lass.”

Elizabeth swallowed uncomfortably. “Why?”

“Just tell me.”

“Fine. Our father was an infantryman, but he died a year ago. My brother wanted to make him proud and seek his own vengeance I suppose, so he signed up to follow in our father’s footsteps and help crush this foolish rebellion.”

“Foolish. You think the people of Scotland fight for no good reason?” The Highlander stared into her eyes for the longest time, then he tipped the bottle back and took a drink.

Elizabeth accepted it when he held it out to her.

“You should get some rest,” he said, rising to his feet. “You cannot go anywhere tonight. It’s too dangerous, especially in that uniform, and if anyone finds out what you’re hiding under it, you’ll be no better off.”

She arched a brow. “My shapely figure, you mean?”

His gaze flicked over the curve of her hip, then he turned to go. “Goodnight, lass.”

Elizabeth quickly stood. “Wait. Are we alone here, or are there others? Am I being held prisoner?”

He kept his back to her. “Aye, there are others, but for now, it’s just us. Get some sleep.”

“But I’ve been sleeping all day,” she argued, “and I’m hungry.”

He halted at the curtain, while she waited uneasily for his response, wishing she knew what he meant to do with her.

At last, he glanced over his shoulder. “Follow me, then. You may sit at the table for a while and have some supper.”

With that, he passed through the curtain and held it aloft, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to join him.

o0o

“What’s your name, Highlander?” Elizabeth asked, wincing with pain as she used her teeth to tear meat off a juicy chicken leg. She had to chew slowly and with great care, otherwise she might end up rolling in agony on the floor.

“Are you all right, lass?” he asked from the opposite side of the table. “You look uncomfortable. Here. Take some more of this.”

He handed her the bottle of whisky again, and she welcomed the opportunity to wash down her supper. A moment later, however, she had to wrestle with an unbidden wave of giddiness and laughter. It was a potent spirit indeed.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, setting the bottle down.

“Will it make you reveal your secrets?”

Elizabeth wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I assure you, I have none. I’ve already told you everything.”

“I doubt that.”

She tore off another morsel of the tender, succulent meat. “And you still haven’t told me your name.”

He eyed her warily. “Nor have you told me yours.”

A log shifted in the grate, and bright sparks of firelight flew up the chimney while they regarded each other with challenge from opposite sides of the table.

“I am Alexander MacLean,” he said at last. “I hail from the Isle of Mull.”

“Duart Castle?”

“Aye,” he replied. “Now tell me yours.”

She sat back in the chair. “I am Elizabeth Curtis, and I hail from Portsmouth.”

His green eyes narrowed. “You’re a long way from home, lassie.”

“I have no home. What remained of my family came north to fight in this rebellion, but they’re all dead now – all except for one. So here I am. Alone and… seeking vengeance I suppose.”

“Who is this
one
you speak of?”

“My uncle. He is a book merchant in Edinburgh, but I have not seen him since I was a child.”

The Highlander shifted lower in a lazy sprawl, and glanced down at the knife he had given her to use with her supper. “Have you always been so bold?” he asked. “So full of daring?”

“Yes.”

The corner of his mouth curled up in a small grin of seductive allure. “I find you very intriguing, Elizabeth Curtis. No woman has ever attacked me with such…
passion
before.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Be careful, sir. I told you I was seeking vengeance, and if I grow weary of your questions or insinuations, I may decide to attack you again.”

He spoke with a heated grin, holding his hands out to the side. ““Be my guest, but do not forget - I saved your life on that battlefield. I carried you into the woods and stole one of your King’s horses for you, then I held you across my lap for mile after mile while we plodded through rivers and glades together. If anything, you owe me a great debt.”

Elizabeth slanted a look at him. “Are you flirting with me?”

Just then, something pleasant and unfamiliar warmed the flow of blood through her veins.

Alex leaned forward. “What if I were? Would it be enough to make you promise not to use that supper knife on me? Or heaven forbid, that razor-sharp bayonet of yours?”

“I don’t have my bayonet,” she replied, looking around for it. “I have nothing.”

“Nay, lass, that’s not true. You have your wits, and you’re moderately pleasant to look at.”

“Moderately pleasant?” She laughed again. Perhaps it was the whisky. “What a charmer you are.”

The firelight reflected in the deep green of his eyes, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, wondering how she could be carrying on in such a way with a man who was her enemy and captor.

“A Highlander killed my brother,” she quickly said, her tone growing serious. “So please do not look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to carry me back to that bed and do something savage with me.”

He chuckled. “Clearly you’ve been entertaining some wayward thoughts this evening, lassie -

but I must ask you to treat me with some respect. I have no intention of becoming a slave to your lusty urges. I simply won’t have it.”

Yet again, she laughed. “You bashed me over the head today! So I quite assure you, I have no lusty urges whatsoever. Not a single one.”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

She should have been offended. She should have stood up, slapped his face, and retired to the other room, but something held her spellbound. Even dressed in the tartan uniform of her enemy

- the weapons a grim reminder of this Highlander’s potential ferocity and the death of her brother

– he aroused her senses and sent a fever into her blood. It was the sheer might of his brawn, she supposed, and the bewildering fact that he had saved her life today, even after she tried to kill him.

“Why did you help me?” she asked. “You could have just left me to die.”

For a moment he regarded her in the quiet hush of the night, while the flames danced wildly in the hearth. Then at last he spoke. “Because you were the most beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on.”

Excitement pooled in her belly, just as the door flew open and two bearded Highlanders burst into the room with muskets cocked and aimed at her head.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet. She knocked over her chair as she backed up against the far wall.

Slowly and calmly, Alex rose to his feet and turned to face them.

o0o

“Lower your weapons,” he said, holding his hands out to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“She’s not armed. She’s just hungry, that’s all.”

“She can starve, for all I care,” the taller one said.

“Aye,” the other added. “It’s worse than we thought, Alex. The battle was not a triumph.”

“What do you mean, not a triumph?” he replied. “I saw the English officers order the retreat.

We chased them all the way back to Dunblane.”

“Aye, we crushed them with our right flank, but our left flank broke. Argyll’s cavalry drove hundreds into the River Allen. Many drowned, and he is calling it a victory for King George.”

Without lowering his weapon, the taller one flicked his hair out of his face. “Mar is withdrawing to Perth, and in the morning, despite our victory, Argyll will find himself master of the field.”

Alex bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All this killing, all these weeks of marching through bogs and icy pellets of rain… What was it for? We are still without a king, without a parliament. Without freedom.”

Elizabeth dared not speak - not while the other two Scots were fuming with ire and still held loaded muskets aimed at her face.

“Did she tell you anything?” the tall one asked, eyeing her dangerously down the long barrel of his weapon.

Alex looked at her. “She told me enough, and I’ve determined she’s not a threat to us.”

“I don’t believe that. Did you ask her about the dispatch?”

Hot flames of panic burst in Elizabeth’s core. “Explain yourself, sir,” she demanded. “What dispatch? I know nothing of what you speak.”

Alex regarded her with a look of regret. “I was going to ask you about it, lass, as soon as your belly was full. Come here.”

He waved a hand for her to approach the table, then signaled for the other Scotsman to hand over a small parchment.

“We found this in a secret compartment in the pocket of your coat,” he explained in a low voice. “Do you know of it?”

She took it from him and read the contents. “This is a note to Argyll, explaining that a detachment of rebels are on their way to Dumferline. It recommends that he send his cavalry to trounce it.”

Alex nodded. “Did your brother deliver this information?”

She glanced up. “How should I know?”

“So you are telling me that you knew nothing of it.” He slid her a look, encouraging her to nod in agreement.

“Of course I knew nothing. I stole this uniform off his back after he was killed.”

“But why did you do that, lass?” the tall one asked. “Did you mean to do some spying on your own?”

“Of course not,” she retorted. “I only wanted to fight.”

He scowled at her. “That’s a strange hankerin’ for a woman. How can we be sure you’re telling the truth?”

“She is,” Alex insisted. “I told you I interrogated her already, and I am willing to stake my life on it. She’s not a spy.”

Elizabeth’s eyes locked on his, and though she did not understand why he was defending her, she was grateful for it.

He turned his attention back to the other clansmen. “Lower your guns now lads, and fill your bellies. Tomorrow you’ll ride to Perth and find out what Mar intends to do next.”

Reluctantly, they released the hammers on their weapons and moved closer to the fire.

“What about the woman?” the short one quietly asked. “What will you do with her tonight?”

Alex’s green eyes roamed over her figure, and her heart hammered wildly against her ribcage.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he replied.

o0o

The flickering light from a single candle infused the room with a warm, golden glow while Elizabeth pulled the covers up to her chin.

“Sleep well, lass,” Alex said, as he came to stand over the bed. “I’ll not let any harm come to you on this night.”

She could hear the others on the opposite side of the curtain, speaking in low tones while they ate their supper.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” she whispered. “After what happened between us this morning…”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “We met on a battlefield, on opposite sides of a war. I cannot fault you for fighting against me. I fought hard against you in return.”

She laid her hand on her bruised cheek. “You certainly did.”

He regarded her for a long, quiet moment while her thoughts grew heavy in her mind. “I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he said. “I would take it back if I could.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Among other things.”

“Such as?”

The candlelight reflected in his eyes like tiny sparks of fire. “I believe you have suffered enough, lass.”

She thought of her brother suddenly, and how she had tried to talk him out of signing up to fight in this war, but she had not been able to persuade him. So she had followed him instead.

“You are remembering your brother,” Alex whispered.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

A strange, beguiling comfort settled over her, thanks to this Highlander’s reassuring presence.

Perhaps it was his intuition and his clear insight into her grief. Or perhaps it was his strength as a warrior, for she believed, with every breath in her body, that he would protect her tonight.

“Sometimes I feel as if the world has come to an end.” She studied the strong contours of his face and the line of his shoulders beneath the tartan. “Do you understand? Have you ever lost someone?”

“Aye, I have. A brother, like yours. He was too young to fight, but he was stubborn and insisted on following me, so I let him. I thought I could protect him, but since then, I have come to realize that God has his own plans. All we can do is keep living the life we are meant to live, and push through the pain.”