The Rogues (24 page)

I jumped to my feet and pointed at him angrily. “I
knew
it! I
knew
that was his aim all along! Don't listen to him, Miss Josie.”

“Wheesht, Roddy,” Josie answered me softly. “It might be the only way.”

25 THE GARDEN

Rood himself came to collect Josie that night, and the maid was sent off to her bed. By then our plans were well laid, and, little as I liked them, I could see no other way forward. While it had been Josie and me plotting, there was something special between us, almost as precious as the Blessing itself. But now Dunbar had taken charge, and I felt reduced to the role of a minor helper.

He and I crouched by the window in the darkened parlor where I had told Bonnie Josie of my plan. We were careful to keep out of sight as we watched Rood escort Josie to the carriage. She nodded at him with mannered politeness as he opened the door for her.

“It's a wonder she can stand to be cooped up with yon lizard,” I muttered, twisting the lace curtain between my fingers.

Dunbar growled. “It's a short way, 'tis all.” But his body was so tense, he could have been mistaken for stone.

“Long enough,” I said.

As he watched the carriage disappear down the drive, Dunbar rubbed his rough chin. “She plays her role as if she's just stepped out onto a stage,” he said. “I hope this trinket of yers is worth half the risk we're taking over it. If anything happens to Josie because of it, I'll …”

“It's nae ordinary trinket,” I said sharply. “It was a gift from Prince Charlie.”

Dunbar raised an eyebrow. “The Bonnie Prince, eh?” He gave a short, scornful laugh. “I knew ye were keeping something close to yer chest, lad. Maybe it's worth the taking after all.”

Silently I cursed myself for letting that information slip. Even in the dark, there was enough moon out so I could see the faint trace of a smirk on his lips. He'd provoked me deliberately, and I'd fallen for it.

“It wouldna be worth much to a man like ye,” I said, “that can make his living on whisky and poaching. But my family needs it to make a new life for ourselves in America.”

“A new life?” Dunbar repeated. “Wouldn't we all like a chance at that!” Again there was a brief flash of another man beneath the Rogue's rough exterior. Then his old gruff manner returned as he pulled out his pocket watch and held it up to the fading light. “We've quite some time to pass here. We'd best keep ourselves to ourselves lest we wake that maid.”

It had already been agreed that we should wait two hours before leaving so as not to allow any hint of suspicion that Josie might be in league with us. Once the laird and his guests had dulled their wits with too much food, wine and whisky, she would come outside so that we could stage our “robbery.”

Dunbar settled himself in a chair, and it was soon too dark for me to see any expression on his face. His breathing was so soft, it was lost in the sound of the breeze whispering down the chimney.

I sat opposite him and wondered if he could see me, his eyes being more used to darkness and danger than my own. Then, weary as I was from the morning's trek, my mind began to drift and I fancied I might transform into a mere shadow, slipping off by myself to retrieve the Blessing without Dunbar's assistance. I saw myself floating down the passages of Kindarry House, sliding under doors and squeezing through keyholes to explore every nook and cranny of the great house. Searching and searching, but not finding until—

Dunbar's hand shook me by the shoulder and startled me out of the dream. I jerked my head up and swallowed a yelp.

He turned away and headed for the door. “No time for sleep now, lad,” he said with a hint of mockery. “We need to be about our work.”

“I wasna sleeping,” I said, then gave up my feeble protest and followed him out into the night, closing the door behind us with deliberate care. By now I was well practiced at keeping up with him and stuck as closely as a shadow.

If I hadn't been so tense with nerves, I would have marveled anew at the expert skill he used in seeking out every scrap of cover, every spot where the faint light of the stars and moon was swallowed in shade. I imitated him as best I could, an apprentice of the night. The moon rode high above us, but slipped in and out of the clouds, and there was little wind. No one saw us leave, and no one watched us on the road.

A mile along, we spotted the lighted windows of Kindarry House.

Moving even more carefully now, we kept our eyes open for anyone wandering the grounds. Some half-dozen carriages were parked outside, their horses asleep standing up within their shafts until their owners were ready to leave. The sound of a fiddle wafted from one of the windows, and voices raised in laughter. Occasionally a horse roused, houghed noisily, then sank back into sleep.

We crept into the cover of the low wall that surrounded the garden on the western side of the house. If all went according to plan, this was where Josie would appear with the Blessing—if the laird had lent it to her. And this was where she would become an innocent victim of robbery.

“Can ye find the stable?” Dunbar asked.

“Of course,” I answered. “I'm nae bairn.”

Dunbar merely nodded. “Fine. Pick us out a good horse and keep it ready.”

Frowning, I set off, running in a crouch to keep from sight. Josie had told us that the stables were on the far eastern side of the house and that the two lads who usually worked with the horses had been made into servers for the party, so it would be unguarded. How she knew this was a puzzle. House gossip, I supposed.

As I ran, I once more considered Dunbar's plan. It seemed simple enough. Overcome with the heat of dancing, Josie would come outside in the garden to take some air. And there, in view of one of the windows, the Rogue would steal the Blessing from her. Her false screams would attract witnesses to prove that she'd been waylaid so that no guilt could be attached to her. None here knew of the connection between her and the Rogue. Meanwhile, I was to wait behind the stable with a horse saddled and ready to go.

Josie had assured us that all the Kindarry House servants would be busy dancing attendance on their master and his friends, the coachmen happily drinking in the great kitchen with the cook and her scrub maids. But if anyone did come upon me, I was to say I'd been sent to prepare a mount for one of the guests.

Yes, simple. Yet the scheme worried at me still. There was so much that could go badly. What if Josie couldn't get away? What if someone glanced out of the window at the wrong time? Worst of all, what if the trinket the laird offered Josie was
not
the Blessing? A dozen different disasters rose up to haunt me, each one worse than the last. But when I'd raised them with Josie, she'd hushed me, saying, “I trust Alan is resourceful enough to handle whatever occurs.”

Trust him
? Yes, everything depended upon our trusting the Rogue. For all that I had learned of him, for all that I owed him, I still couldn't help but fear that the Blessing might prove too great a temptation for him. The idea that I might be robbed a second time was more than I could bear.

I tried to put such thoughts aside as unworthy, but when a seed of doubt is planted, it needs no rain to make it grow.

The stables were unguarded as Josie had said. Any servants who weren't at work about the house were sitting at a long table in the manor kitchen, helping themselves to whatever fine food was left over from the laird's dinner party, or so Josie promised.

I'd never seen such a huge place for animals. Our byre had been small, cozy, crowded, stinking of horse and cow. The laird's stables were fully five times the size of our small holding, a place of shadows, the horses themselves denser shadows, snorting and rustling amongst fresh straw, each in separate stalls. But it still smelled like our byre, that musky combination of dung, feed and leather harness.

There were plenty of horses to choose from. Josie had told us that the laird loved his horses and treated them better than his servants. Every one of them put our poor old Rob Roy to shame. And he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he hadn't been good enough for the laird's stable and had been handed over to someone else, a guard or Willie Rood. I pushed that thought away and went slowly down the line of stalls.

The well-groomed, sleek horses all stared at me, snuffling and snorting and stamping their feet. I felt most unwelcome there.

At last, I picked out a shaggy walnut mare, chiefly because she didn't stamp her hooves and snort when I approached her. Fastening on her saddle and bridle, which I found in a small room full of saddles and bridles, I led her out across the grass to a stretch of pine trees. Stroking her muzzle to keep her calm, I tied her up to a sapling, on the windowless side of Kindarry House. Then, with my suspicions of the Rogue like a burr under a saddle, I headed back to the other side to keep an eye on him.

Dunbar was still crouched where I'd left him, so I took up a position among the bushes where I could spy on him without being seen. Once again, I wondered at how easily Bonnie Josie depended on him, as if she had some insight into his heart. It made no sense to me. And how quick he was to do her bidding, which made even less sense.

After a long wait, I saw him check his watch, then stuff it back into his pocket. He slid over the mossy wall and disappeared among the garden greenery, like a blackbird among shadows. I scrambled to the wall and took over his previous hiding place, but when I peered over, I couldn't see any sign of him. It was as if he'd disappeared, a part of the greenery or a part of the wall.

The fiddler took up a fresh tune inside the house, and there was a clatter of some dishes being dropped. The laird's voice rose like the keen of a pipe to berate the luckless servant. I couldn't help but wonder what it must be like in there, to have all the food and drink you could wish for and obedient folk to bring them to you while you sat at your ease.

I was trying again to pick out Dunbar when the terrace door opened and lamplight spilled out, framing a pair of figures, a man and a woman. They stepped into the garden, closing the door behind them. As soon as I heard their voices, I knew it was Josie and Willie Rood.

“A spot of fresh air will settle yer dizziness,” said Rood in a voice oily with concern.

“Yes, dear Mr. Rood, I am already feeling better,” said Josie, gathering a linen shawl around her shoulders. With the light framing her, she looked like an angel. Or a queen. “Even a sip of that French wine has proved too much for my sensitive constitution. And may I say it was very gallant of you to accompany me. I had not thought such manners came natural to you.”

Rood missed the bite in her remark. “I seek to better myself,” he said, “not only in my situation, but in yer eyes too, Miss Josie.” I could hear a slurring in his speech and knew he'd taken more than a few sips of the wine.

“Well, it's too dark out here for my eyes to make much of you,” she answered as she walked slowly across the garden with Rood following like a puppy at her side. Her hand drifted to her breast, where she fingered something.

I peered hard at it, hardly daring to hope. In the dark it was hard to make out. A brooch for sure. But was it the right one?

My heart skipped a beat as she turned and walked back, closer to me, Rood trotting at her heels like a lady's dog. The shadows passed, the clouds uncovered the moon and I saw the brooch clearly. The shape was the same as mine. I knew it had to be the Blessing! And she was pointing it out to let Dunbar know she'd achieved her purpose.

“Bide here a while,” said Rood, “by the rose arbor. Ye'll find the scent very agreeable.”

“There's something here that offends my nostrils,” said Josie, too sweetly for Rood to take her true meaning. “Besides, I want to walk off that heavy meal.”

What Rood did not know was that she was making her way to the far side of the garden, where the Rogue was waiting among the bushes. As she moved off, Rood laid a hand on her arm to detain her.

Bonnie Josie stiffened at once. “I don't believe I gave you permission to make so bold with me, sir,” she said.

“Surely ye'll not deny me a wee kiss after all I've done for ye,” said Rood, the wine in his belly making him lose what sense he had.

Josie pushed his hand away. “You are too forward too quickly, Mr. Rood. Such presumption ill becomes a gentleman.”

“It's money and property as makes a gentleman,” Rood countered, “and I'll soon have plenty of both. That should make ye friendly enough, if nothing else will.”

He made a clumsy move to block her path, and even from where I crouched, concealed, I could feel the steeliness of the look she gave him. At any other time she would have hurried back into the house, but tonight that would ruin our plan.

“You mistake me,” Josie said, every word as cold and pointed as an icicle off the roof of a house. “I'm not one of your tavern wenches who will sell a kiss for a shot of gin. I am a laird's daughter.”

Rood moved closer so that his drunken breath must surely have been gusting in her face. “A
dead
laird's daughter, with none but me to protect ye from yer uncle. Do ye no understand how fast he'll rid himself of ye for good as soon as the chance presents itself?”

My muscles tensed. I wanted to rush at Rood and punch his piggy face. But that would be the end of all our hopes. Besides, if Rood even guessed she was helping me, it would put her in terrible danger.

“I can protect myself,” Josie said calmly. “Don't ever think me defenseless.”

“I'll test yer defenses right now,” said Rood in a joking manner, as if he were a young lover. Then with an impulsive lunge, he grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to press his lips to hers.

Josie twisted free and gave him a slap across the cheek as loud as the crack of a whip.

I gasped but Rood never heard it, for his ears must have been ringing with the sound of the blow. There was no sign of Dunbar, and I wondered if he'd fled, fearing to be exposed. In that case, I was Josie's only protection. I clambered over the wall and scrambled across the garden.