by Eliza Knight
“When my mother died…I got the news from my great-uncle and from Boyd. They put about that she’d been murdered by rebel Jacobites. That it was the rebels who did those heinous things to her. They sent her battered body to the castle in a pine box.” His voice hitched. “Mistress J was carved into the box, and a note was…a note was with her body that said Traitor. My uncle was in league with Boyd at the time, and I didna realize. Shortly after that, he sided with the rebels, and I remained with Boyd.”
She stiffened, that sense of dread in her belly growing worse.
“They set ye up, Jenny, for hate. And I confess that before her death, I was a King George loyalist.”
“And after?”
There was a long silence, and then finally he let out a slow exhale. “My loyalty never wavered. Until recently.”
“Ye mean ye sided with the Sassenachs, with Boyd and his murderous lot. The ones who killed her.”
Toran flinched. “Aye. I believed that the Jacobites had been so disloyal as to murder my mother. That they desecrated her body. Given that, how could I not seek retribution? I was told that the one responsible, the person who had my mother killed, was a female rebel. Mistress J, a leader of rebels.”
His confession was a punch to her gut. This man standing before her, whom she’d kissed, whom she’d dreamed of a future with, whom she’d harbored and protected, was her enemy. Or at least he had been.
“Ye believed I had your mother killed?”
He nodded, his face tight.
“And now?” she asked, fearing the worst. “Ye canna be both a loyalist and a Jacobite, Toran. Ye canna switch back and forth if ye hope to gain anyone’s trust. Ye canna stay here if ye think me capable of cold-blooded murder.” How will I ever trust ye again?
“I am a Jacobite, Jenny.” He got down on his knees, taking her breath away. “I swear to ye, my loyalties lie with the rebellion. Ye have inspired me to choose the side of right. My mother’s side. And I believe ye were no’ responsible for her death. I’m ashamed to have allowed those lies to have influenced me at all.”
“Why did ye not choose her side before?”
He gritted his teeth. “My da was a loyalist. My whole life I was raised to be such. When my mother defected, I didna even know. It wasn’t until just before her death that I found out, and I was in too much shock that she might have abandoned my father’s ideals. And then when her body was sent… I was told that ye threw her to the wolves, and I believed it.”
Her breath caught, and she gripped the sides of her gown to keep from striking him. Tears pricked her eyes, and she was close to screaming—both for the agony of him having thought such a thing and for all the lies he’d told her since the moment they met that she’d believed. How could he have shown her such affection if he believed her a murderer?
“I dinna believe it, lass. Not now.”
“But ye did.”
“I confess, I did.” He grimaced. “But from the day I entered your service, your keep, I’ve been true to the cause, to the prince…to ye.”
“How much of…us was real?” Jenny’s knees wobbled, and she was close to collapsing. She squeezed them together to help keep herself steady. Dinna fall down. Stay upright. Stay strong. “I let ye kiss me… I shared pieces of myself.”
She felt like she was being strangled. He wasn’t the first man to have lied to her, and she was certain he wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. That it was him at all was probably why it hurt so much.
“There is more.”
Her fingers came to her throat as she listened.
“Simon—”
“He’s in a cell. Dirk told me.”
“Did he tell ye why?”
“Because he was sotted on nearly an entire cask of ale and attacked ye again.”
“That is not the truth. Simon was sent by my uncle to keep track of my whereabouts in order to give the information to Boyd. They struck a bargain—the life of the men in the garrison for mine, Isla’s, and Camdyn’s. I didna believe it until Simon told me they were still alive.”
Jenny shook her head. “That was days ago.”
“Aye.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat was so dry, and she felt as though she was going to be sick. Her hands were cold, going numb where she clutched the skirt of her gown.
Finally, she was able to speak, her words coming out in a croak. “Ye need to leave, Fraser. Go back to the garrison for all I care.” Och, but that was a heinous lie. She didn’t want him to go back there, back to certain death, and that made all of this even worse. For she truly did care for him.
“Jenny, please—”
“Dinna call me that. I am nobody to ye. Dinna remember me. Dinna remember what ye saw here. If ye ever cared about me at all, ye’ll forget me and my people, and ye’ll never grace my presence again.”
He was shaking his head, his face crumbling into despair like she’d never seen on another person. She read it in his face, that he regretted everything, wanted forgiveness, was willing to beg for it down on his knees before her.
“My lady, please,” he pleaded, anguish on his striking features, his icy-blue eyes glistening. “I swear to ye now, on pain of death, that ye have all of my loyalty. I am with ye. I am loyal to Prince Charles.”
“Your brother and sister will be safe here should ye choose to leave them behind. Simon will be dealt with.” She took a step back from him, feeling as though she might collapse. He might have hurt her less had he thrust his blade into her heart.
“What can I do to prove to ye that I am loyal? I’m begging ye.”
What could he possibly promise her? The man had lied about his loyalties, betrayed his people. Likely more than once. Who was to say that he wouldn’t do so again? What if he got them all killed? How could she trust him when he had proven to be so adept a liar?
Jenny thought of Camdyn and Isla, so young, so impressionable. The two of them had begun to make lives for themselves in the clan. They were a part of it. Isla had grown so close to Jenny’s mother. If Toran decided to leave and take them with him, she would fight for them. They should not have to suffer his betrayal. Or their uncle’s.
Jenny took another step back. “Go. Please.”
Now she was close to begging, needing him desperately to get away from her so she could think. So she could come to grips. So she could mourn an imagined future that felt as if it had just been ripped out of her.
This was why she’d promised herself to stay faithful to Scotland. This was why she’d vowed that the only important man in her life would be her prince and future king. Because now she was gutted, all because she’d dared to give her heart away.
A choke rose up in her throat, and she worked to keep it down, to hide it from Toran.
She had given her heart away; she was in love with him. Hopelessly in love with a traitor.
Toran finally stood, his eyes full of sorrow. His hand floated toward her but fell back to his side when she didn’t move.
“Go. Now. Please.”
Toran nodded. “If that is what ye truly wish.”
“’Tis.”
“I’m truly sorry, Jenny,” he said, ignoring her demand for the use of her title—a reminder of how close they’d briefly become. “When I first met ye, I thought to make my mother’s death right in my mind. But when I saw how ye were willing to care for your men, how much ye were willing to risk for your country, I started to change. Ye showed me the way.”
She was shaking her head now, not wanting to hear more, but he kept on talking.
“I didna give ye away to the dragoons when I could have. I brought Camdyn and Isla to ye. Why would I risk their lives if I meant to betray ye?”
He made a valid point, but she didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t right now. “Why did ye not tell me sooner?”
> He shook his head regretfully. “There were many times I wanted to, but it always—there is nothing I can say except I’m sorry. My excuses are only that, excuses. There is no explanation for why I kept it a secret save to say I was a coward.”
“There is no room in a rebellion for a coward.”
She might as well have run him through with her sword for the emotion that cut across his face. And it was cruel of her, purposefully so. They were battling here, but words and emotions were their weapons.
The man might have lied to her, might have been confused about which side was on the side of right, which made sense given how he had been deceived. But he wasn’t a coward. A coward would not have broken his cousin out of prison. A coward would not have fought off redcoats. A coward would not have brought her to safety when he could have tossed her to the wolves. He’d risked his life for her already—more than once.
But she wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Ye dinna have to leave Mackintosh lands this night. But I do need ye to leave my sight,” she said, relenting. That was as much as she was willing to concede to him now. As much as she could live with. For if he obeyed and walked off her lands and she never saw him again, she was certain never to forgive herself.
Toran bowed low before her, and she resisted the urge to reach out and touch the wild mane of his hair as it fell forward and over his face. But the moment was over too soon. He backed away a few steps and then turned on his heel, walking slowly back to the castle.
A stone bench was hidden from the view of the path beneath an arbor to her right. She shuffled forward and collapsed onto it, finally allowing herself a moment to break as the coldness of the stone soaked through her gown and tears poured from her eyes.
Her heart ached, a lancing of pain shooting straight through her chest. How was she to know whether he could be trusted? Allowing Toran to remain was too high a risk, and to let him back into her heart could be disastrous.
Was she willing to risk her heart, her plan?
Jenny swiped angrily at her tears. Why did she have to fall for him in the first place? Why did she have to insist on one last run that fateful night? If she hadn’t, they never would have crossed paths. And then he would have likely been caught by Boyd. By the time she’d found him and Archie, the lad would not have been able to travel much further. The idea of the two of them in Boyd’s evil hands was enough to send a chill up her spine. The idea of never having met Toran at all made her grief all the worse.
Footsteps on the garden path jolted Jenny from her thoughts. The sun had already lost its battle with the moon, blanketing the garden in darkness.
Jenny’s heart skipped a beat. She used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe away any more tears and then stepped onto the gravel path with her dagger in her hand.
Annie and Fiona walked with purpose toward her, their faces covered in shadows, but she knew them well enough to make out their shapes in the dark.
“What are ye doing out here?” Annie asked.
Her friends surrounded her, their presence a warm comfort. “I wanted some air,” she lied, shoving her dagger back into her boot.
Fiona let out a sigh and leaned her head against Jenny’s shoulder. “Are ye all right? We…heard what happened.”
“Ye were spying on me?”
“Not exactly,” Annie said. “We were talking with Dirk about the upcoming ball, and we just so happened to stumble across the two of ye. We told Dirk we’d make certain ye were all right.”
“Toran betrayed me.”
Annie took Jenny’s hand in hers and squeezed. “For what it’s worth, he sounded as heartbroken as ye. And what if it had been your mama sent back in a box?”
“I canna believe it. Why would they make it look as though I’d killed her?”
“Because those bastards didn’t want the entirety of the rebels to come down on their heads. They hoped to pull rebels to their side. Boyd is clever, and he wanted ye to come out of hiding to defend yourself,” Fiona said.
“But we never even heard about how she returned… Oh God, I canna believe how much she was made to suffer.” Jenny dropped her face into her hands as she sobbed. Her two best friends held her close as she cried, whispering soft words to calm her, but the tears kept coming. To be sure they’d been waiting to be shed for a long time.
She cried for the loss of her friend, for the loss of Toran and her broken heart, for the loss of their fathers and all their men and the ruin of the country.
When Jenny’s tears subsided, Annie said, “I know just want this calls for.”
“What?” Jenny wiped at the tears streaking her face.
“Sweets. I’ll go raid Cook’s kitchen and see if I canna find us something delicious.”
“And wine,” Fiona added. “Grab a jug of that too.”
“What would I do without ye two? I’m so glad ye’re here.” Jenny hugged them both once more, and then they made their way back to the keep. “We’ve been through so much together. I pray one day, the three of us will be old ladies, sitting about the drawing room and sipping tea, reminiscing about our escapades.”
“We made a pact,” Fiona said.
“A blood pact,” Annie added.
Jenny smiled. “Friends forever, rebels always.”
Dirk waited by the back door of the castle, just far enough away not to hear what they’d said but close enough to be of assistance in the garden if he was needed.
“I’m going to go help Annie,” Fiona said. “We’ll meet ye upstairs.”
Alone with Dirk, she didn’t know quite what to say. Luckily, he filled the silence. “I thought we could talk about the upcoming journey.”
“Aye, let’s.”
She shooed him back toward the castle, setting a brisk pace for them both and glad to be talking about something other than Toran. “It will take us at least four days to get to Glenfinnan with our wagons. And the nineteenth is in two weeks.”
“The men are ready, as are our stores.”
“Good. And we’ve plenty of supplies to present to the guest of honor.”
“Aye.” He stopped walking a moment, touched her arm, stilling her. “Are ye all right?”
Jenny swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I’m fine. Why?”
Dirk cocked his head to the side, and she wished like hell in the dark she could read his thoughts. “Ye forget we’ve known each other since we were both bairns.”
She laughed a little at that. “Ye’re like a brother to me, Dirk. Perhaps the only true brother I’ve got.”
“Ye can tell me whatever is bothering ye.”
“I know.” Her eyes still burned from her tears.
“Did Toran finally tell ye?”
“Finally? Ye mean to say ye’ve known all along?”
“I had suspicions. They were only just confirmed recently. He’s a good man, Cousin. Despite his past, I trust him.”
“And ye said nothing to me?” She was still baffled by this fact, ignoring Dirk’s conclusions completely.
“He asked to tell ye himself. I warned him if he didna do it soon that I would.”
“And what about Simon? Why did ye lie about the reason for putting him in the cell?”
Dirk sighed heavily. “I didna want ye to worry over it. We were in the middle of a raid by dragoons.”
She wanted to be angry, but the ultimatum that Dirk had given Toran had been a fair one. She found her anger deflating, marginally.
“Thank ye for looking out for me.” She decided not to tell him that she hadn’t forgiven Toran yet, that she’d told him to leave Mackintosh lands and then relented, fearing Dirk would make certain he actually did leave before she woke.
“I always do.”
Jenny dragged her thoughts back to the cause, back to their fight to put Prince Charlie on the throne. Planning would distract her f
rom her pain. “With the dragoons watching us, we’ll have to be careful. Taking the entire load at once will be dangerous.”
“I agree.”
“’Haps we should hide some in the tunnels and pack the rest in wool or in the false bottoms of wagons.”
“Aye.”
“That way if we’re stopped on the road, they will not see it.”
“I can have our men start the work on the false bottoms tomorrow.”
She nodded. “There’s been no word from my brother either. Nor his men.” Not even a thank-you. She’d half expected the three traitors to return with rebukes from her brother about the missing materials from his list.
“He’s a selfish bastard,” Dirk said.
“’Tis a shame, for he’s fierce on the battlefield.” They’d both been trained by their father and grandda. Both of them knew how to fight like a rebel, infinitely superior to the dragoons. Hamish, damn him, had taken that skill to the other side.
“Aye, but ye can best him.”
“Do ye think it will come to that?” Jenny dreaded the day she came face-to-face with her brother.
“I canna say for certain, but the both of ye are fighting on opposite sides.”
“The men here have no loyalty to Hamish anymore.” Thank the saints, or she would have been dealing with more than those treacherous three.
“Aye, they’ve seen the way their families were treated by the dragoons, and they feel just as betrayed as the rest at Hamish’s switch in loyalty.”
“My da has to be rolling in his grave, bless his soul.” Jenny crossed herself.
“He has ye to keep his legacy alive and keep the clan safe.”
Jenny nodded, considering that. If she were the one to keep them safe, to keep them thriving, and her brother was now an enemy of their clan, then perhaps it was time she laid claim to his title formally. She was his heir apparent, and she could become Mackintosh laird, ousting Hamish and his traitorous claims on her people and their resources forever.
She chewed her lip, the thought rolling around in her mind like dice on a table.
“I had planned to make a trip tonight,” she said, “but I think it would be safest for us all to remain behind the walls for the next few days.”
